The Cloning Phenom...

My name is Earl Dickins (bald headed black guy, 6'1, 295 pounds) and to be honest, I don't even know how to begin this little tale of mine. Hell, you probably wouldn't even believe me if I did tell you.

I'm the eighteen year old son of Dr. Clyve B Dickins, world renowned scientist on the subject of human cloning. While the vast majority of the medical community either shuns the idea, or at the very least- keeps quiet, my father is gun ho on the notion that he already has...and will continue to clone human beings.

In an effort to placate the public, the government basically leaked a story that he is simply a black scientist gone mad. Nothing more. Nothing less.

For the longest time, even I bought into that story. I mean, I love pops and everything... but shit, he ain't cloning nobody. Or so I thought.

About a year ago, I took a trip to a little farm that we own in Upstate New York. We mainly use it as a weekend getaway spot. But according to some of the early trade journals, Pops did some of his early experiments up there. So me being the curious cat that I am, I decided to do a little research on my own time.

At first, nothing seemed awry. Same furniture as always. Same stillness in the air. Everything seemed like normal. Until a loud, baritone moan seemed to literally shake the ground.

"Oooaaughhhh...fuuucccckkkkkkk!!"

I guess I forgot to mention something. I'm gay. So as the loud moans penetrated deep inside of my eardrums, my TEN INCH pipe of black steel INSTANTLY rose to attention. Anybody who could moan like that had to be having the time of their lives.

"But who?" I tried to rationalize. "This doesn't make any sense."

I know for a fact that the alarm hadn't been disabled, because I set it myself. And the cameras-...oh yeah, the camera's. If I wanted an answer, all I had to do was enter the master bedroom and watch the cameras that monitored EVERY inch of the property. That would tell the story.

So with a raging hard on, and ever the willing voyeur, I ran upstairs so I could enter my father's bedroom and view the security cameras. I didn't know what I expected to find...but it sure wasn't what I did find.

There on the wall sized TV screen was a carbon copy of... ME. All two hundred and ninety five pounds of me. Except for one thing. I was dressed, and this poor thing was naked as the day he was born.

Aside from the fact of looking at a carbon copy of myself, I was trying to figure what the hell my father had him hooked up to. It was some kind of machine, and even though I'm sure that it could offer pain, I could tell by the lust filled moans (damn near screams) that they were providing one thing: ECSTASY.

My clone was tilted upside down, so that his monstrous dick was aimed directly at his face, as all sort of wires, brushes and suction cups worked wonders on his beautiful, muscle bound body.

"What...the...fuck?" I slowly licked my lips, as my dick began to literally dribble with pre cum. For one, how was any of this even possible? Two, and even if it was possible, why clone me?

A while back, after having been teased one time too many at school, I did make a sick joke to my Pops.

"Hell," I had said. "If you can make clones, clone me. They say that nobody can do you as good as you can do yourself. So guess what Pops? I want to do myself."

"I can make that possible," he nodded.

Now you have to remember a few things. I never believed that he would actually be able to do it. I had said what I said from the standpoint of "Boy, you so crazy." It wasn't actually a genuine request. I just wanted to shame him for always harping on the same subject. Clones... clones...clones.

And now, here I was, staring at an upside down clone of myself as a machine tortured him with endless pleasure. I couldn't see everything, but from the front, I could see that both of his nipples had suction tubes on them, not to mention grated clothespins. A long, ribbed dildo seemed to be pumping in and out of his tight asshole. Several wires were taped at the base of his dick, most likely providing electric jolts. And kinkiest of all, each one of his twitching toes were encased in suction cups.

"Oh gooawwwddd," my clone moaned, as two metal probes dropped down on either side of his vein lined shaft. They reminded you of the wild, metal guages that monitor lie detector tests. Except these ones wildly scratched into his ultra sensitive cock shaft.

"C'mon, baby," a familiar voice entered the scene. It was my Pops, dressed in white scrubs. He knelt and lifted my clone up by the head in one hand (aiming his face at his pre-cum dripping dick) while trailing a finger up and down his spine.

I didn't know whether to be revolted or impressed. I mean, it was cool to see a replica of myself in total ecstasy. But shocking to see it being done at the hands of my very own father. What my father said next was even more shocking.

"My baby wants you. So I'm going to make sure that he gets you. And I am going to make sure that you're wired to do every fucking thing that he tells you."

"Oh fuck," I felt my dick harden an extra inch. If I wasn't touching my dick before, I certainly was now. Because I was staring at a replica of myself, with the full knowledge that he was being trained to serve me.

"Open your mouth and stick out your tongue," my Pops commanded.

He then locked his lips over the very tip and slow, slow, slowly slurped until their lips became locked in the most sensuous of kisses.

"Fuck," I had now pulled out my own dick and began the process of slowly jacking off.

"He told you to cum motherfucker. So fuckin cum," I angrily screamed at the top of my lungs. "Do it, boy."

"Unn," my clone moaned, forcing Pops to tear away his lips. "Oh my sweet fucking ahhhh- hnnnnnhh... ahh...ahhhhh...ahhhhhhhh," my clone moaned endlessly, as his entire eyeball sockets turned white and he nutted so fucking hard that the machine threatened to tear itself from the wall.

The first few jets of cum painted his face, all before my Pops wildly grabbed his chin and squeezed until his mouth opened wide in an O shape.

"Drink that fucking cum, nigga. Don't you waste another fucking drop," my Pops held the clone in one place.

The clone nutted...and nutted...and nutted until his dick began to fizzle out. Even then Pops held him still, shaking his dick for good measure, ensuring that his nuts were bone dry.

"You know what?" my Pops tore the dildo from his ass and replaced it with his face. "I think you got sum more from me."

"Uggh, fuck," my clone wiggled around and shook his ass as much as his restraints would allow. "God that tongue feels so muthafuckin good. Fuck, my nig. Slurp me fucking dry...unnn."

My Pops had all ten nails ripping the clones ass wide apart. If I didn't know any better, I'd swear that my Pops was trying to implant his head up the niggas ass.

Shit, I ain't tryna insinuate anything, but what I will say is that Pop really knew what he was doing with dat ass. For a split second, I almost wished it were me (both giving and receiving.)

But that's right. That's why this clone is here.

For my pleasure.

But that's another story for another day...