Date: Sat, 8 Dec 2007 23:10:08 EST
From: Tommyhawk1@aol.com
Subject: The Brief, Pleasant Life of Bill-23

		    THE BRIEF, PLEASANT LIFE OF BILL-23
			   By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
		      WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM
			WWW.TOMMYHAWKSROGUEMOON.COM

I woke up as water fell all about me, splashing. I was coughing, choking,
water rushed from my nose, from my ears, from my throat, I gagged and
vomited up fluid from my lungs, my stomach, water rushed from my anus, but
I was beyond any thought of dignity as my breath filled my exhausted lungs,
they inflated, a peculiar feeling, like they were expanding for the first
time.

I blew both my nostrils clear without covering them with my fingers, for I
was as nude as on my birthday and about as sticky. I got up onto all fours,
and my eyes focused, saw that I was on a file floor, blue squares grouted
together, and I saw the water flowing around me.

"Let's get you washed off." a disembodied voice said and I felt water
spraying me, real water, not like the stuff I'd been floating in...floating
in?

My strength returned under the warm wash of cleansing water and I got to my
feet. The feeling of the tiles under them were strange. Almost painful. I
took a few steps, and realized that my feet had no callouses on them, the
ones you build from earliest childhood, the ones that spare your skin from
the abuse of walking upon it. Every movement was like my first movement,
and I lifted my head into the stream of water and let it wash my eyes
clear.

The water turned off. "You feeling better now?" came the voice again. Only
this time, it came from the doorway which had just opened.

I turned around to see...myself. My eyes goggled out, and I
stuttered. "You...you're me?"

"In a way." came the answer.

"But...what happened?" I asked.

"Come on, Bill." he said to me (I said to me). "You know the answer to
that.

I did and I spent some time struggling to get my brain around it. What I'd
been working on for months now, for years, decades if you count my years
developing the theory. "I'm a clone?"

"Yes, number 23." came the answer.

"The one at the end of the row." I said numbly. "The one with the best
chance of stability if decanted."

"Yes."

"And you've decanted me." I said.

"Yes."

"And...am I stable?" I managed to get out.

And the dreaded answer came. "No. The tests were negative. I'll have to
recalibrate for the next attempt."

"Then I'm...." I guttered out. "I'm going to die. Soon." The tests coming
back negative meant that my cellular structure hadn't stabilized enough for
viability. I was alive for now, but I was basically running on what was
left over of the stabilizing fluid I had been grown in. Without it
sustaining me, running my body for me...I was good for maybe an
hour. Probably less.

"I'm afraid so, Bill." My original was at least sympathetic. "I wish the
ionization formula had worked. I knew that the first results had a low
probability of success. It always takes several field tests before we
can...."

"Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up!" I screamed, holding my hands over my
ears.

"I know how you feel...."

"How can you know how I feel?" I demanded. "God, I am you. Everything you
are, I am! You strapped on that damned helmet and fed everything you are
into my brain and thanks to that, I AM you!"

"Which is why I know how you feel." my other self said to me soothingly.

"Hey, fuck you!" I said.

"I want to make this as easy for you as I can." my other self went
on. "Anything I can. You want to eat something special, maybe? I have
everything I could think of I might want for a last meal here."

Last meal! "My God!" I moaned.

"If there's someone you want to talk to, we'll call them." my original went
on.

"Why bother?" I said. "After all, it isn't like I'm actually dying, am I?
What kind of last words could I have to give them?"

"I only thought...." My original stopped, tried again. "Then tell me what
you want to do. You have...some time, anyhow."

"Some time, yeah." I thought about it, as best as anyone can think about a
single hour of life. I couldn't hate my original, I was him, in a way, the
cells he had taken from himself to make me had been a part of him, a part
of me. You might say I'd agreed to be born, knowing the odds. So the odds
had turned out against me. Not his fault. So anger was out. So were a lot
of things.

There's a lot you can do if you are going to only live for another
year. You can travel, see famous places, do outrageous things like
skydiving or underwater exploring. But those things, all the things they
can offer a person who would die in a year, or in a few months, those were
impossible. I'd die on the plane trip to Greece or China.

Even a last meal was a waste of time. More than half that period of time
would be spent in cooking and preparing the meal. Besides, I knew what
everything tasted like. I didn't need to taste them one last time. One
first time.

What can you do with a single hour of life? What's even worth doing with
such a short span of life?

I had crouched over while I'd been thinking, trying subconsciously to get
back into the fetal position I had been in inside the tank, maybe. I
straightened up.

"I see you've made up your mind." my original said. "Have you figured out
how you want to spend your single hour of life."

"Only one real answer." I said in turn. "Anything else is just a waste of
time."

"Okay." my original said. "Anything you want, you got it. Just name it and
I'll get it for you."

"Then let's step outside of here." I said. I didn't bother drying off,
practically all the water had either run off my body or been absorbed by my
skin, I was damp but not dry right now. And it didn't matter enough to
waste the three minutes drying off would have taken.

Outside this room, I knew, was the main laboratory workspace. The latest
sample was being formed, a nearly formed person. The replacement it
contained would go into my own container now that I had been decanted, of
course. To wait there until the formula could be developed to make my body
cells self-sustaining. Or the next test.

My body cells, I'd thought to myself, but that wasn't true. Not mine
anymore. His.

"Wait." I stopped myself. I'd planned to take us both back to my sleeping
quarters, but that would have taken nearly five minutes, it was outside the
main compound. Too much time.

"What is it?" My other self asked me.

"This will do fine." I said to myself. "What I want to do for the one hour
I have to live."

"What is it?"

"Like you don't really know." I said, advancing on myself. He drew back
slightly, but then I was upon him, and my hand landed on his shoulder, my
hands feeling the odd tenderness of my feet. I guess we carry more
thickening of our used skin than we think we do. "Get down and suck my
dick." And I shoved down on him, hard, and he buckled at the knees and
landed with a thud.

And my original looked up in astonishment. "You want me to suck you off?"

"Why not?" I said. "I got time to go find someone else, maybe?" I said and
reached down. My cock was hard, eight inches of solid steel, and I slapped
his face with it. "Now chow down, damn it! You owe this to me!"

"I owe you?"

"You created me." I pointed out. "You failed to make the cells of my body
stable. You stuck me with a one-hour life span. Am I supposed to wait
forty-five minutes while you call and summon a hooker here to take care of
me? You said you'd do anything, so get to sucking it!"

And I slapped his face again, and my original looked up at me, then at my
cock, and then he took it in his mouth.

Oh, God, the feeling of that. The same sensitivity of my skin was there,
but in this case, it was a case of more was better! I could feel every
wrinkle in his lips as they closed upon my shaft, every motion of his mouth
as he slid it down was an oval of aliveness upon my skin. His mouth watered
upon my glans as he took it deeper, and that warm wetness was like the
touch of sheer silk from the thighs of a lover. I groaned and I reached
down not to restrain my other self, but to hang on, to hold myself upright,
so that I could have more of this, more, please, more!

My original wasn't talented in this (I knew!) but he was trying his
best. He knew what to do, not how, but he gave me every iota of his limited
skill. His throat took my length down until he was on the point of vomiting
from the gag reflex, then he released it, not quickly, but slowly so that I
felt the heat of his churning esophagus as I was so slowly exhumed from its
depths. The sheer rhapsody of the motions was playing itself upon my
man-flute, I was the sounding horn the music flowed out of, and I was
sounding it from my very soul.

"Oh, God, oh, God, oh, oh, oh!" I moaned in golden, liquid tones of
ecstasy. My only real experience with sex was here, was this, was now. I
had memories, but those had been implanted in my brain, I had my emotions,
but those were also recordings imposed upon me from outside. Everything I
was, it was a lie, except for this, for here, for now. This time, from that
first sensation of flowing out of rushing water until now, this was the
totality of my life.

I wanted it, I wanted all of it. Here, now, all of it, now! My need, my
desire, rushed through my virgin-tender body and I found myself, after only
a few moments of sex, at the moment when climax would assault me. Not fair,
not fair! I couldn't do it, not so soon, not now!

I fought off my passion like the claws of a panther but the beast had its
teeth in me and it was mauling my brain though I fought back desperately,
it tore out the throat of my intellect and reason and my body's ecstasy
exploded like the blood from my jugular into its warm, dark throat.

My original was surprised, perhaps, but he held on gamely. Though my hot
jizz burst into him in an amount I felt like a train roaring through my
dong, he kept his mouth on, drinking down my load in huge gulps, though
some slipped out around his lips just the same, and the huge wads nearly
caused me to pass out, there was so much and my body expended such a lot of
my very-limited energy to produce it. Or maybe that's just the real orgasm,
as opposed to my false memories of it, shaking my untouched body.

Yet though I wondered if I had shorted out my already-too-short lifespan, I
found myself returning to consciousness, I had a lot of my weight in my
hands upon my original's shoulders and my knees were bent into nearly
sitting position, but I was still upright and I staggered back to full
height.

My original self let go and wiped his lips, looked up at me. "That didn't
take so long, Bill." he said. "You still have more than a half hour
left. Anything else?"

"Yeah." I panted. This sensation I'd had, this one, real, raw-pleasure
sensation. I wanted it again. I felt drained, far beyond any ability to
come again in the time I had left. But I had another hope. "Now you can
fuck me."

"You want me to fuck you?"

"Yeah, fuck me, hard, raw, fuck me!" I demanded. "I only got a half hour
left, that's enough time for me to come again if you'll fuck me, stimulate
my prostate with your cock, work it, maybe I can come one more time before
I die!"

"I...I guess I can." my original said hesitantly. "But so quickly, it'll
hurt you."

"That doesn't matter." I said sternly. "However much you hurt me, it won't
matter for very long, now will it?"

"I guess not."

"So get it out and get it hard." I ordered me.

My original self stood up and fumbled at his pants. He pulled out his cock,
which should have looked like a duplicate of mine and did...considering
mine was now a limp piece of used spaghetti.

"Can't you get it hard?" I demanded.

"I don't know." my original stuttered. "I mean, this is getting more than a
little weird, I mean, you're me."

"I would be you." I pointed out. "If you had only a half hour left to
live."

My original swallowed hard. "I understand. Okay, I'll try."

"Do more than that." I ordered. I reached out and caught that flimsy flap
of flesh he called his pud. It was like working a chunk of leftover chicken
fat in my fingers, too soft and kind of greasy.

I snarled in frustration. This was taking time, and time was my only, and
most precious, commodity. I needed my other self hard and hard right now. I
knelt down and took that mush into my mouth and started breathing life into
it. It felt like the very life was seeping out of me as I worked him, but
it inflated, slowly as a balloon until I had it at full pressure. I kept
working it, spreading my mouth's moisture lavishly on it. The very fluids
of my life, when it was gone, I was gone, but he needed it to make those
last minutes worthwhile.

"Now." I said. "You keep Mr. Winky at full attention while I turn around
and bend over." I said. "Then you ram him on in. It doesn't matter how much
I yell, you just keep on shoving it in, you got me?"

"I got you." my original promised and I turned around.

There was the touch of moisture, his glans, as it sought out my
sphincter. My intestines were pure as the driven snow, never had any food
ever traveled through its length. And my senses as elsewhere were in full
drive.

There was less pain than I had expected when he found my opening and pushed
into it. Maybe my drive for sexual pleasure dulled a lot of it, I was ready
to sacrifice my body's integrity to gain more of the only true reason for
living (at least when you live such a short time), and my asshole dilated
to accommodate him, as did my bowels in their turn. Yes, there were places
where my skin caught on him, places where it tore rather than give way, but
that was minuscule compared to the delight racing through my body as he
drove deeper and deeper into me.

"Oh, yeah, fuck me, now, fuck me, fuck me hard, hard, damn it!" I growled
at my original. "Give me the fucking of a lifetime, give me the fuck that
will send me to my grave contented, give it to me, hard, God damn it,
damned hard!"

My original began to fuck me, but not hard, and I grunted, enraged, and I
began to thrust myself back against him as he moved. "I said harder!" I
snarled. "You aren't going to hurt me enough to matter, so start ramming
me. Good and hard!"

Maybe it was my urgings and my lustful grinding against him, and maybe some
of it was my original's own building pleasures, but he began to hump me
harder. Oh, God, it was great, this joining of my body, my returning in
this way to my origins, I had come from this body and now I was with it
once more. It was something better than sex, like I was joining with my
very soul. This brief life was nothing, I was immortal in spirit, I could
go and stand at the gates of Heaven which I now felt so very near to me,
the songs of angels pounding in my temples in the hosannas of my body's
lust, my butt was being pounded and hard, my original had stopped being the
least bit gentle, which suited this time, this place, perfectly. Hard, raw
raunch was all I needed, all I wanted, all I had time for. Loving caresses
are for those who have eternity to spend on it, I needed to get off again,
and it was there inside me, swimming slowly toward the crest of my
passion's peak.

"Come on, harder, damn it, I need to get off again, come on, get me off,
you bastard, you sorry excuse for a scientist, you built me, you satisfy
me, God damn it, I need to come again, and you better fucking deliver the
fucking!" I grumbled.

His hands caught my hips and now he hunched at me with the rapid intensity
of a rabbit atop its mate. As rabbits were short-lived, they knew how to
screw! My kinship with my long-eared mammalian cousins rose into my
forebrain and took over, I was building immortality the only way anyone
truly can, I was expressing my sexuality and spreading my seed, and the
fact it was unlikely to fall on anything like fertile grounds (or eggs)
didn't matter to my animal brain at all, it was the fact that meant
divinity, not the result.

And I climbed to my delight's apex, and I skied down the other side with
the groans that were the very basic song of life itself. "Ah-gah,
ah-gah-hah-ah-ah-hah-GAHHH!" I moaned.

"Oh, God, I'm coming, I'm coming! Uh-uh-huh-GUUHH-GUHH-HNNNNNN!" my
original crooned, and then I felt the hot splash of his jism pouring into
my ravaged bowels.

He had done it, then, I felt an upswell of gratitude for my original
self. He had created me, he had hoped I would endure, his failure was no
fault, he had tried his best, he had wanted me to succeed. And my
ass-muscles milked at him as he finished squirting into me and fell upon
me, panting heavily.

"That's good, damn it, real good." I sighed.

"We'd better get you to a chair, at least." my original said. "We're at the
hour I anticipated from my tests already."

"Living on borrowed time." I said, managed a smile. "Maybe your tests were
wrong, huh?"

"I hope so." my original said. "You rest. Would you like a drink of water?"

"Yes, please." I said. A drink of water, a toast to life itself. Even in
this short measure, it was sweet, so sweet. I'd have time for that toast,
maybe. And even after that, maybe I could ****.

				  THE END
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