Too many

by BRK   

Zack can avoid generating a new, super-sexy clone as long as he doesn’t fall asleep in daylight. Unfortunately, that’s not always as easy as it sounds.

“Fuck a duck!” someone cursed somewhere in the dark, rousing me unexpectedly. A small chorus of soft shushing immediately followed.

Shit, I'd fallen asleep halfway through the new Jake Gyllenhaal action movie. And there was someone sitting on my lap.

It took me a second to become lucid enough to connect the dots. “Fuck a duck,” I whispered.

“Yeah, I said that already.” My latest clone eased off my lap into the providentially free seat to my left. A girl two seats over was giving me a shocked look. You know, like she'd never seen identical twins sitting in each other's laps at the movies before. I was tempted to tell her to get out more.

I ignored her. It was dark, She didn't know what she saw. I turned to my clone, who was glaring at me. “I guess the movie didn't hold your interest, huh?” he said snidely, just barely keeping to a whisper.

I frowned guiltily. The movie shifted to a bright outdoor scene and suddenly he was more visible in the reflected light, the glimmer twinkling in his blue-green eyes. Was I getting hotter? I couldn't tell if this clone was more handsome than the others. I'd gotten used to the look of my face lately, and I was looking good.

Anger makes some hot guys uglier, but evidently with me it achieved the opposite effect. Interesting to know. “We agreed!” he growled.

“I know!” I hissed, becoming a little miffed myself.

“No more falling asleep in daylight! You promised!” he said, in close to a normal voice now. I shushed him anxiously, simultaneously with an annoyed straight couple in the row behind us.

“Watch the movie!” I whispered, barely audible. He turned angrily away from me, toward the screen, and I turned away too. But we were already holding hands. We couldn't really keep from touching each other, my clones and I. No matter what our mood, the attraction was too powerful. What made it even stranger was that it was an emotional attraction, a nurturing bond. My clones were born in love with me, and each other, and me with them.

Our knees brushed and I felt a rush of familiar lust/love/comfort/excitement. I watched the movie for a while without processing any of it—just Jake running around in a torn tee shirt for some reason, and some explosions.

After a while my clone leaned over to whisper in my ear. His hot breath caused a shudder to run through my torso. “I am so fucking hard right now,” he mouthed. I was too. If we'd been in a restaurant I would have blurted out “Check please!”

Instead we just stood up and clambered along the row, earning more dirty looks, and a few amazed ones—we were still holding hands, and obviously identical twins, dressed alike and everything. Boy, I knew that look.

We walked through the lobby, holding hands, and fairly obviously boned (I have a really thick cock, so it always shows a lump in my jeans pointing up to my hip when I'm hard). So—more looks. I'd stopped caring. I actually kind of enjoyed the attention.

My clone did too. Halfway through the cinema lobby he suddenly grabbed me in a clinch and planted a long deep I-need-to-fuck-you kiss on me. I kissed back in spades. We both nearly came in our pants.

Ten minutes later we were in the car, laughing. “Did you see that ticket girl's face?” I howled.

“She'll be replaying that tonight in her head.”

I pulled out of the parking garage and onto the highway, headed for my house. Our house. I sighed. “Sorry.”

“Eh.”

“Naw, man, you're right. I promised. There's too many of us already.”

“It's fine,” my clone said after a while. “Just—no more boring movies, okay?” He turned and tossed me a crooked grin that would have made me kiss him, if it hadn't meant we'd smash into oncoming traffic.

“Did you get a wallet?” I asked, as we merged onto the expressway.

He pulled it out. “Yep,” he said. “Apparently I'm Simon.”

“Simon, that's right.” Once he said it, I knew I could recognize him. It was the same for all of them.

I watched him in my peripheral vision as he flipped through his IDs and credit cards. “Oh look, an employee ID for Paramount Studios.” Huh, that was new.

Whatever curse, or whatever—I was still fruitlessly researching exactly what had happened to me—suddenly had me sprouting clones whenever I fell asleep while the sun was up, also considerately created new identities and jobs for my clones. What a thoughtful curse, I snarked in my own head.

The names advanced one letter of the alphabet each time. Like hurricanes. The first time I'd woken up with a clone, after I'd dozed off watching some football game on the couch, he had an ID that said he was Adam Keating. Man, what a freak-out that day was. And wild, wild, amazing sex. And then another freak-out. And more blindingly awesome sex. The whole day went like that.

I'm Zack Keating, by the way. Do you get the feeling I'm due for exactly six more clonings? (Sigh.)

The jobs were random, mostly office graphics and other stuff that played to my skills. None of the jobs had been in movies so far though. “Does it say what?”

“Nope. Maybe I'm a movie star.” He grinned dazzlingly at me.

I glanced over and sucked in my breath. “You could be.” Man, he was hot. I'd been suspecting for a while that it was the cloning, not my afternoon workouts at Oscar's Gym, that was buffing me up big time. And today I was wearing a short-sleeved rugby shirt that really showed off my pecs and shoulders. And so was my clone. My hot, hot, god I have to fuck him clone. My boner was writhing in my jeans.

“Any idea what the you-know-what is?” I said, trying to sound casual. That was the other thing about my clones: they all had some enhancement or extra or something unusual somewhere on their bodies. Always something inconspicuous in public, and usually pretty minor. I didn't notice at first, because Adam had an extra toe on his left foot, and Brandon had an extra toe on his right foot. Whoever was doing this to me was not only thorough, but possibly OCD.

Simon smiled wickedly. “You'll have to wait,” he said, wriggling his eyebrows. “I want to show everyone.”

I leadfooted it the whole way home.

I parked in the driveway, behind two other cars—three more were parked on the street. Only a few of us had cars—there was a good bus-stop two blocks away, at the edge of the development—but it was becoming a few too many. Then again, I was a few too many.

We walked in the side door by the garage, which opened into the kitchen. “Welcome home boys!” called out a voice. I glanced over to where a shirtless me in gym trunks and flip flops was standing in front of the open fridge door. Pete. I'd know even without the psychic-twin name-knowing thing—Pete's enhancement was an extra ab. Just one, on one side. He had a seven-pack. It was so hot. And he was always shirtless at home.

“You don't seem surprised,” Simon said, beating me to it. He glanced at me. “I was!”

Pete jerked a thumb toward the back of the house. “Bedroom.”

“Oh yeah.” After Charlie'd shown up, and I was realizing this was going to keep happening (it took be an embarrassingly long time to figure out the daylight trigger, and a long time after that before I'd considered trying to curtail my clonemaking!), I'd started having visions of the house I'd bought with my long-gone ex filling up with me—s. But my Considerate Curse gave me a new bedroom (furnished with everything, including a king-sized bed) when Drew showed up, and every third one after that, another bedroom. Apparently the curse assumes a threesome is the best sleeping arrangement. Simon was number 19, so—new bedroom. Funny thing about the bedrooms. They're huge, but the exterior of the house doesn't get any bigger, only the inside.

I live in the fucking Tardis.

It's hard to miss when it happens—the contortion of spacetime makes a loud bang. So everyone knew I'd gone back on my promise, if only accidentally. Great.

I was feeling bad about that, and then suddenly I was making out with Simon and I didn't care.

He slipped his tongue in my mouth and I moaned. And then he slipped the other tongue in, and started wrapping them around my tongue, and I fucking exploded in my pants.

I broke free of the kiss, an awestruck look on my face. “You didn't do that at the theater!”

He grinned evilly. “I didn't want you to blow your wad in front of all those poor straight people!”

Pete was suddenly standing very close to us. “What what what?” he breathed excitedly. I tilted my head toward Pete, meaning, “Show him.” Simon dutifully went in for a long hot kiss, and suddenly Pete's eyes flew open even as he shuddered, cumming spastically in his gym shorts.

“Awesome!” he shouted, going in for another kiss, but I stopped him.

“Where are the others?” I said, and Pete responded with a slow, wide smile.

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