Part 1

By Nickolai

As much as she tried to focus on her mundane task of entering data into the database, Eva Lindstrom could not keep her eyes off the boy in the waiting room. Time and again she found herself drawn away from the screen to peer over the ledge and sneak another peek at him. Why this special fascination? Certainly he was a handsome young man with a well-built physique, and altogether a very fine example of his type—the quintessential teenaged jock. But he was not really all that much better looking than any other lad dragged in by his father for modifications. By design, all of the boys brought to Dr. Stone’s clinic for treatment were physically flawless—except, perhaps, for those optional bits of equipment their daddies sought to have adjusted.

This boy was some years older than the usual patient. Was that the attraction? Eva estimated he could be the equivalent of 17 or thereabouts, in human years. Companion clones were genetically engineered to progress rapidly through early childhood and then to age very slowly after puberty, so correlation with originals was difficult. Whatever his chronology, boys at this stage of development were a rare sight at the clinic, and that was enough to make Eva feel rather more tingly than usual. She preferred the older ones, whose ripening sexuality made their impending loss more poignant for them and more gratifying for her.

Besides his maturity, this one’s mannerisms were also peculiar.

Eva was accustomed to seeing patients sit there sullenly and withdrawn, if not cowering in fear. Should there happen to be another patient receiving treatment at the time, and loudly vocalizing his experience through the examination room door, the boy queued up next was apt to become quite hysterical—crying and screaming and carrying on until he had to be restrained. With the push of a button on her desk, Eva could lock the front exit and summon the orderlies from Rehab. The chairs were bolted to the floor for a reason.

But the brawny youth in the sleeveless t-shirt and jeans who lounged on the chair in front of her nonchalantly flipped through the old “Sports Illustrated” magazines as if he had not a care in the world. He stretched out his muscular limbs, yawned, and unselfconsciously shifted the package in his jeans. Eva noted signs of a big, man-sized bulge between his legs. She felt a warm moistness spreading between her own slim thighs. He doesn’t have a clue, she thought excitedly. And there was something else...

Chad was bored out of his mind. He didn’t understand why his step dad had to drive them eighty miles out of the way to see this particular doctor for his annual physical, and what the hell were they talking about in there for so long, anyway? If only he had his phone with him. He mislaid it somehow and Albert insisted they had to leave before he could find it. He was horny as shit, as usual, and he wanted to touch base with Mandy, his latest conquest, before she made other plans for the evening. But this appointment was so-o-o fucking urgent they couldn’t be a minute late.

He looked up idly at the ceiling and then around the room. Whoa! He managed to catch the eye of the blond receptionist in the nurse uniform. She was a smokin’ older babe, probably like 30, with a great set of tits showing off in her tight white blouse that he couldn’t help staring at when they checked in. No way—was she looking him over? He straightened up and smiled. She smiled back!

“Are you a football player?” she asked.

Chad grinned. As the star running back of the reigning conference champions, it seemed like he had fans wherever he went. A real player in every sense, he took advantage of the opening to stand up, stroll over, and enjoy another close-up of that rack.

“You probably saw me in the newspapers or on TV or something. I was All-Conference last year,” he said modestly.

Eva shook her head. “Sorry, I don’t recall.” She pointed a bright red fingernail at his broad teenaged chest. “Your shirt—it says ‘Central High Cavaliers’ with a football in the middle.”

Chad looked down at the white lettering on his dark green shirt and struck his head comically with the heel of his hand. “Duh.” A slight flush gave him a rosy glow. Undaunted, he held out his hand and introduced himself. “Chad Johnson, running back. I’m here for a physical...uh, I guess you know that.” He leaned over the ledge and moved in close to read the tag pinned over that luscious left breast. “And you’re Nurse...”

Eva graciously took his hand. “Lindstrom, Eva Lindstrom.”

With the touch of his fingers, a light bulb flashed on, and Eva suddenly realized what so intrigued her about this boy: she had never seen him before. Not at age equivalencies of 6, 12, 15, or any age at all, in any variation of eye, hair or skin color. In her nine years with the Stone Happy Family Clinic, she was sure she had encountered at least one example of every clone model in the production catalog, and many at just about every phase of development. But this one, with the crew cut, brown bedroom eyes, cute dimpled smile, and flirtatious demeanor, was a complete novelty.

And, at the same instant, she knew why. It should have been obvious. The boasting about his high school football prowess was the clincher. Companion clones might play sports, and many surely had the speed and agility to become quite proficient, but they certainly don’t attend public high schools under any circumstances. And to be featured in newspapers or on TV? Unthinkable! The Institute went to great lengths to ensure that no clone ever drew attention from the public at large. Outside the client base of wealthy patrons, the average person had only the vaguest notions about clone production, distribution, and their short, humanoid lives.

Eva was forced to conclude that this cheeky young stud hitting on her so brazenly would not be found among the offerings of any Clone Companions, Ltd. catalog or brochure, for one simple reason: he was, in fact, an original human boy!

She felt a bit flushed herself as the dawning realization tantalized her pussy. Oh, this one would be very interesting indeed.

Chad casually flexed his arms, and lowered his voice to ask, provocatively, “So, you like football?”

* * *

Dr. Stone tried to mask his astonishment. “So, Mr. Johnson, if I understand you correctly, you are saying that you have been unable to engage the boy in any form of sexual intimacy whatsoever?”

The distraught middle-aged man sitting across the mahogany desk bowed his head, revealing a bald spot, and shook it slowly from side to side. “Well there was that one time...I tried….” He looked up with a pained expression, and sighed. “I’ll tell you how bad it’s been, doctor. It’s been years and years since I’ve even seen him naked!

“I know what you’re thinking. I’m a pathetic loser. But I love my son!” He said the words fiercely, though with a tone more of desperation than defiance.

“Now, now, don’t be so hard on yourself Mr. Johnson,” the doctor said soothingly. “We deal with these issues every day, and let me assure you that even the most devoted, loving fathers can have trouble bonding with their boys. We’re not here to judge you. Our job is to fix problem boys. Whatever needs to be done, we can fix it.”

“Thanks, Doctor. That’s what I needed to hear. I feel like such a failure.”

Dr. Stone stroked his chin thoughtfully. This sounded like one of the more extreme cases of orientation disharmony he had encountered in recent months. Why so many men chose clone models plainly labeled “heterosexual” in the catalog was a mystery. He supposed some took the designation as a challenge. Perhaps they envisioned a more innately masculine type, and blithely assumed that with enough fatherly love and gentle guidance they could turn their little clone into the butch sex toy of their fantasies. Often, everything would seem to be going along just fine, while the boy was still young and compliant. It was during adolescence, when the boy’s hormones kicked in and his natural inclinations came to the forefront that the problems usually emerged.

To avoid this kind of unpleasantness, an especially anxious daddy would haul his little one in for a simple castration before the tyke could even comprehend the meaning of those tiny marbles in his tight hairless sack. In the absence of such precautions, however, if a boy fell into a pattern of persistent hard-core heterosexuality, more extreme measures became necessary. The Institute’s brochures proclaimed, “satisfaction guaranteed,” no matter how ill chosen the model. And God bless the men who love a challenge. Without them, Dr. Stone would be out of business.

Usually, though, the client took some considerable effort to introduce his boy to the joys of mansex before completely losing control and resorting to Dr. Stone’s assistance.

“Tell me a little more about your history with the boy. It might help if we can pinpoint the crack in the bonding process.”

Albert Johnson hardly knew where to begin. When he first met Marie and her young son it had all seemed so promising. She was a single mother, desperate for the kind of security a well-to-do businessman like Albert could provide. For his part, it was love at first sight. Not for Marie, but for the little boy. At six years old, Chad had the sweetest smile and the cutest, roundest, little butt he could imagine.

During their brief courtship Marie had seemed charmed by the attention and presents he lavished on the boy. After they were married, though, a paranoid, jealous streak emerged.

She watched him like a hawk. He still relished the memory of his first, and only bath time with young Chad. How he slowly peeled down the Pokemon underpants and saw that surprisingly long little boy penis and that soft, impossibly smooth round hinie. Not that he dared to try anything. It was all completely innocent, but Marie clearly suspected the worst. Afterwards, she declared that Chad was a big boy and was perfectly capable of taking baths on his own. So it went, for six long years. Whenever they became close, even sitting together on the couch, watching TV, Marie would find a reason to send Chad to his room, or insert herself between them.

And then, one day, without warning, she was gone.

Evidently she had planned it for months. Her disappearance coincided with that of the gardener, Pedro, and $753,000 from their bank account. Albert was ecstatic. He gladly would have paid twice that amount to get rid of her. Where they ended up was anyone’s guess—Mexico, South America, he didn’t care. He never even filed a missing person report. The only thing that mattered was that he now had Chad, the love of his life, all to himself. At last he would have the chance to develop the close, caring relationship of his dreams. What followed were years of disappointment, frustration, and heartbreak. Somehow, the opportunity was squandered.

“Well Doctor, the trouble probably started about a month or so after my wife Marie left us for good...”

Dr. Stone wrinkled his nose at the mention of a woman. He frowned on the introduction of boy companion clones into mixed marriage situations. A female presence could only be confusing for the boy, and distract him from his true purpose of serving his daddy’s needs.

“Chad took it pretty hard,” Albert continued. “I strung him along for a while, saying she was traveling, and would probably be home any day now, but one night, after I tucked him into bed, he looked up to me with those big brown eyes and said, ‘Mommy’s not ever coming back, is she?’ And I had to say, ‘No, son, it looks like it’s just you and me now.’ He cried himself to sleep in my arms. I never felt closer to him than I did holding him that night.”

“But then something happened?”

“I blame myself. I pushed it too fast. He felt so warm and cuddly, and then, when I laid him down to sleep, with that innocent angel face…I couldn’t help myself. I know this is going to sound terrible, but I felt...stimulated.”

“Under the circumstances, I would say that arousal is a perfectly natural response,” the doctor assured him.

“Well yes, that’s it exactly. I was aroused, but I never meant to force anything on him. I pulled up his pajama top a bit, to rub his smooth tummy, and then a little further, to play with his little titties. And then I started to get curious, because he was getting to that age, you know, where changes would be happening. So I stuck my hand down inside his underpants to see if he had any hair. He was still smooth, as far as I could tell, and then I felt his cock…”

“Was he becoming aroused?”

“He sprang up into a full hard on, and I was amazed at how big it felt in my hand. Maybe if I had stopped then, things would have turned out differently. But I got carried away in the moment. I decided I would treat my boy to his first blow job.”

“He didn’t enjoy it?”

“I never got that far. I had my hands gripped around the elastic of his pajama bottoms and underpants, and when I had them pulled halfway down, I heard him say, ‘Daddy?’ I froze. He said, ‘I think I’ll be all right by myself now.’ He pulled up the covers, turned onto his belly, and said, ‘Would you leave the light on for me tonight?’ And that was it. The next night, he went to bed on his own. The bedroom door was locked, and it stayed that way every night after.

“I thought, well OK, he just needs some space. He’ll come around eventually. But not ten months later, he comes home one day and says, ‘Congratulate me, Albert—I did it! I’m a real man now.’ I didn’t know what he meant. Did he have his first ejaculation? I thought, great, he’s confiding in me, it’s an opening. I started to give him the sex talk about puberty and all that. He laughed at me. He said, ‘I’ve been jacking off for months. I fucked my first girl today!’

“Well, what can I say, I was devastated. Since then, it’s been one thing after another. It’s almost like he enjoys humiliating me...I hope I’m not boring you with this. It feels so good to get it off my chest.”

“No, not at all. Please go on.” Dr. Stone was already planning Chad’s adjustment. The boy sounded like a prime candidate for the standard procedure, his favorite. Why he derived so much happiness from chopping off a boy’s penis, he didn’t care to speculate, but he freely admitted, to himself anyway, that he was a sexual sadist. He loved the thought that the seat of pleasure could be the source of so much pain. He enjoyed describing in graphic detail what he would do to the wild-eyed patient, and the boy’s screams were the purest aphrodisiac. He often spontaneously ejaculated when the cutting instrument bit into the tender boy flesh. It became his custom to perform surgeries in the nude, with only a lab coat over him to soak up the blood. In another time and place, he probably would be locked away permanently as some kind of depraved monster. Happily, he lived in a more enlightened era, where he could utilize his particular interests and skill set to bring peace and harmony to daddies and their maladjusted clone sons, and be rewarded handsomely for the effort.

Of course, his methods, while effective, met with some resistance. After years of sex play, many daddies became quite fond of their boys’ cocks. He supposed that was understandable, since a man likely to order a boy companion clone expected one fully equipped with a set of boy genitals to fondle and suck and enjoy. Even after Dr. Stone patiently explained the numerous benefits of penectomies on problem boys, how they helped to rebalance the father-son power dynamic and refocus the boy’s energies on his daddy’s needs rather than his own selfish desires, some clients still balked. Dr. Stone usually prevailed. He was not above threatening to void the warranty if the client failed to go along with the prescribed treatment plan, particularly if the clone sported a pristine member that he could use to fill out his trophy collection.

At the other end of the spectrum were the sadistic clients who relished the prospect of their boys’ unmanning. Though a sadist himself, Dr. Stone often found these procedures dissatisfying. Such clients tended to choose clone models with extra large equipment, which they proceeded to torture and mutilate for years before coming to the clinic for what amounted to a final cleanup procedure. He seldom got a specimen worth preserving off of one of those boys. Dr. Stone strongly disapproved of any kind of “do it yourself” cuttings, piercings, scarification, or castration. If the abuse was particularly egregious, to the point where it became health threatening, the clone could be confiscated and the client barred for life from further adoptions. The Institute initiated the clinic system partly to mitigate the kind of home pruning emergencies that might garner ugly publicity. If there was to be mutilation, why not have it done safely and hygienically, under the auspices of a trained, licensed professional?

“...I know he was doing it to impress the girls. The weightlifting, this sports stuff. He’s turned himself into some kind of irresistible chick magnet. I swear, he gets calls night and day. And he just keeps getting more buffed, and more beautiful and arrogant. It’s gotten to the point where I’m about at the end of my rope. He runs around the house in nothing but his underwear, just to taunt me, while I feel him slipping farther and farther away. It’s driving me insane!

“I really thought it was hopeless, until I started talking with my friend Joe Williams. His boy was just as bad, carrying on with the girls and such, but Joe said it was like a miracle, the way you were able to bring him around.”

Ah yes, the Williams boy, Dr. Stone smiled at the memory. Quite a screamer, that one. Dr. Stone had recommended the standard procedure, but the boy’s father insisted on a total reconfiguration with a penile inversion. He remarked, rather spitefully, “If he likes pussy so much, he can damned well have one!” That complicated procedure was not covered in the contract, but if a client was willing to pay extra for a full surgical team, who was he to argue?

“Joe said that after your reorientation treatments, his boy was sweet as pie. So I thought, maybe there’s a chance after all. Maybe it’s not completely hopeless. He gave me your card, so here I am.”

“Well, Mr. Johnson, you’ve certainly come to the right place.” The doctor pulled his laptop in front of him, raised the cover, and tapped a few keys. “We’ll just need a few details to get started. If you could give me the boy’s delivery date and model number...”

The newly hopeful daddy seemed confused. “You mean his birthday and Social Security number?”

The doctor closed the computer cover and peered over his glasses. “I’m sorry, Mr. Johnson. I’m afraid there has been a grave misunderstanding somewhere along the line.”

Albert became more confused. “What? Was it something I said?”

“Your son Chad is a natural human boy?”

“Why yes, of course. What else would he be?”

“I regret to say that our reorientation services are available only to clients.”

“Well, what does it take to become a client then? Seriously, if you can do for me what you did for Joe Williams I would pay just about anything!”

“It’s not a matter of money. In fact, our basic services are generally free of charge for qualified clients, as part of the Clone Companion contract. Evidently, your friend Mr. Williams neglected to mention that his son is a clone.”

Albert’s confusion only grew deeper. “A clone! But I’ve met the kid. He was no different than any other boy!”

Dr. Stone shook his head. He knew Williams was trying to pass his boy off as a natural human. That’s how he got so far out of control. When you let clones run around loose to interact with other young people you can expect problems. The father was warned, but you can’t raise other people’s kids for them.

Dr. Stone didn’t care to explain to Mr. Johnson that, at bottom, aside from the circumstances of their gestation, a few genetic tweaks, and a tracking chip implant, clones really were no different than any other boys. It was much safer for the public to believe that clones were more akin to androids than human beings. The vacant stare and robotic affect they tended to acquire after some years in service aided that impression.

“Mr. Johnson, believe me, I could show you twenty different examples from our files of boys that are exact duplicates of the Williams model, but that’s neither here nor there. The bottom line is that your son Chad is a natural human being, and we are not authorized to work on human patients.”

Albert sunk back into his chair, defeated. He saw his last hopes fading away. “So you can’t help me then.”

“I’m afraid it’s the policy.”

Dr. Stone truly did feel sorry for the man. Something about his air of desperation touched him deeply. And the idea of adjusting an older teen, with a fully-grown set of genitals excited him.

There was one possibility. The chances were slim, but you never knew.

He looked over to the despondent man, who seemed close to tears. “Mr. Johnson, I’m hesitant to bring this up, because it’s such a long shot, but there might be a way we could help you.”

“Seriously? A long shot is better than no shot at all!”

“Well, I don’t want to get your hopes up too far, but if the boy is as attractive and irresistible as you say, we might be able to enroll him in the program as an original template. Do you have any idea what that is?”

Albert shook his head no.

“At present we list about three dozen basic models in the Clone Companions catalog. Now, if they gave it any thought, most people probably would assume that the clones are cooked up from scratch at our laboratories in China. But in reality, each of the models is based on the genetics of a real human boy, who we call the template. The Institute is always on the lookout for potential new models, but the requirements are very stringent. Probably not one boy in 10,000 would qualify. So as I said, it’s a long shot, but just maybe your Chad could become the basis for a new line of clones.”

“That does sound pretty far-fetched. You’re saying that Chad would have kids, who are copies of himself?”

“We tend to think of them more as brothers, actually. But before we get too far ahead of ourselves, let me take down some background information, and if Chad’s not disqualified outright, I’ll have a look at him and run some more tests.”

Having spent so many years of his life focusing his desires on the unique and unobtainable Chad, Albert found the prospect of multiple new copies of the boy at large in the world almost too dizzying to contemplate. Yet the only chance to remold his son’s sexuality now rested on Chad’s suitability for replication. He was agog at the surreal possibilities, and a bit frightened, but if this is what it would take...

“OK. What do you need to know?”

“Well, for starters, it is imperative to establish that you have sole legal custody of the boy, with no other interested parties who could muddy the waters.”

“Yes, I do, that’s all taken care of. My lawyers saw to that. Marie is completely out of the picture.”

“Good. Are there any other living relatives? Grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, siblings?”

“Nope. Not to my knowledge. It’s just me and Chad at this point.”

“Excellent. Would you say that he has always maintained good overall health?”

“Hardly been sick a day in his life. As I mentioned, he’s an athlete and weightlifter. He’s strong as on ox.”

“Very good. What about his mental capacities? Does he get good grades in school?”

“I was afraid you would ask that. To be honest, even though he was held back a year after seventh grade, he’s barely scraping by. All he thinks about are girls and sports. If he weren’t so good at football, his teachers would probably flunk him again. He hardly gets D’s as it is.”

“That’s great! When it comes to companion clones, especially for the type I foresee, intelligence is not an asset. In fact, for most purposes, up to the point of disability, the stupider, the better.”

“Then he should be perfect. As much as I love the kid, they probably don’t get much dumber than Chad.”

“Wonderful! And how old is he now?”

“He’ll turn 18 next month. You can see why I was so anxious to have something done right away, while he’s still a minor.”

“I understand completely. It appears that we don’t have a minute to waste. Let’s check him out right now then, shall we?”

* * *

Stepping out into the hallway and looking over toward the reception desk, Dr. Stone saw that Mr. Johnson had not exaggerated his son’s beauty and raw animal attraction, and he immediately sympathized with the tortured man’s predicament. The boy laughing and chatting amiably with Nurse Lindstrom was quite the stunning hunk of young beefcake. Moreover, the doctor noted a sizeable piece of meat snaking down the boy’s pant leg.

Clone or not, it was apparent that this boy urgently required an adjustment.

The tenderhearted doctor decided he would try his best to help promote Chad’s selection as an original template, and unite the callous youth and his frustrated daddy in peaceful loving harmony.