Home Alone

Where do I begin?

Okay, first of all, I’m not some kind of freak. I’m just a normal guy like you. Sort of.

I first discovered my ability when I was nine. I was mad at my brother, and ran to my room, slamming the door behind me. I turned and flopped on the bed, face buried in my pillow. Behind me, I heard someone kick the door. I turned around, and saw…me. It was actually me, a second me, staring at the door, back of my neck red with anger. I—I mean, he—turned around and saw me. Both our eyes went wide.

Somehow, in my rush of emotion, I’d split myself into two people. The same person, only twice. As I grew up, I learned how to control it—to split myself at will, and my split selves could split themselves again. If I wanted, I could be a hundred versions of me. When I was done, I could collapse back down into a single version, and I would remember being all the versions of me while apart. Needless to say, this comes in extremely handy when I need to move furniture.

But I never told anyone. Even at the age of nine, I knew this wasn’t normal. I’d only do it behind close doors, when no one else was around.

You’d think I could somehow find a way to use this power to make myself rich or popular. Hardly. My multiple selves didn’t have any special abilities—there was just more of me. So I’m 26, boring job, no girlfriend. If I want to stay home from work, I can just send another version, but that version still has to go, and when we combine again, I remember the whole day at work anyway, so what’s the point?

Did I mention I’ve got no girlfriend? Yes, I see I did. It makes a guy horny. Last Saturday, I was hanging out at home, watching porn. One girl wore a strap-on, and fucked another girl in the ass. Nice. I was stroking my hard cock, getting really wrapped up in the scene, when I accidentally split in two, which hadn’t happened for a long time.

I looked over at the split-off me, sitting next to me on the couch, his own pants around his knees and his own hard cock in his hand.

“I challenge you to a game of strip poker,” I said out of nowhere. “Winner take all.”

“I accept,” the other me said.

We both knew, of course, what “winner take all” meant—the loser would be the absolute fuck-slave of the winner. I—we—had long had a fantasy about doing just this with another girl, but never with myself.

We went to the kitchen and threw back a couple vodka shots to screw up our courage. We found a deck of cards and returned to the living room, where the girl was still getting her ass reemed out on the TV.

We weren’t wearing too much to begin with, so the game didn’t take long to get us down to our (matching) boxer shorts each. One hand left. I drew almost nothing, kept my two face cards, hoping for a pair. I pulled a second jack, so at least had a decent pair to play with. The other me took two cards, and laid his hand down—three kings. I threw my hand in the pile in the disgust, and stood up and dropped my drawers. My cock was still rock hard, but now I thought it wasn’t just from the porn.

“On your knees,” the other me commanded.

I dropped to my knees on the carpet. He walked off to the other room. I heard him open a drawer, and knew what he was getting—the toy handcuffs we’d acquired hopefully when we had our last girlfriend several months earlier. We’d never used them with her, but they we’re going to get some action tonight.

The other me returned. “Hands behind your back.” I complied, and he locked the cuffs in place, binding my arms behind me. He looked down at me and sneered, slowly sliding down his own boxers to reveal his hard cock. I never thought I had anything but an average dick, but seeing it up close, right in front of me, made me reconsider.

“Look at the little faggoty slut,” he said. “Open your mouth, slut.”

I did, and he slid in his cock. I wrapped my lips around it and sucked, surprised at how much I liked it.

“You suck like you’ve been waiting for it, bitch.”

I kept sucking his dick, and he kept pumping it deeper into my mouth, until I almost gagged.

“Lick my balls,” he said, and lifted one foot up onto the couch. I licked on his tight little nutsack, which we’d just shaved that morning. It was cool and smooth on my tongue. He groaned a little.

“Suck my cock,” he said. I put it back in my mouth, and really started working it. I could tell that I was doing exactly what he liked, which I knew all too well.

“You know what you need to be a perfect little faggot?” he asked me. I looked up at him. “You need to get your ass fucked.” As he said it, he split off into a third me, also naked and rock-hard. The third me went to the bedroom, and came back with our bottle of lube. He went around behind me and started greasing up my asshole. After I minute, I felt him start to ease in his cock. If I thought it was big in my mouth, that was nothing next to the cock that was now up my ass.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” the me behind me said, obviously loving the feeling of my tight asshole around his prick. “You’ve got such a tight little virgin ass!”

I kept working the cock in my mouth as the third me kept working my asshole. In front of me, I could tell that the me I was blowing was close.

“You want to swallow my cum?” he mocked. “Tell me you want to swallow my cum, you little slut.” He pulled his cock out of my mouth. “Tell me.”

“I want to swallow your cum.”

He stroked his wet cock in front of me. “Tell me you want me to come in your mouth, and that you want to swallow it.”

“I want you to come in my mouth so I can swallow it.”

“Fuck yeah,” he said, and stuck it back in my mouth. He laughed just a little, and split off into yet another me.

“Fuck yeah,” the new me repeated, standing next to him, his own dick in his hand. “Come in his faggoty little mouth.”

At that, the me I was blowing groaned and shot his wad into my mouth, grabbing the sides of my head and pumping his cock in and out. The me next to him looked at me and said, “Swallow it, you little bitch.” I did, and he took the place of the spent me, sticking a new cock into my mouth. The me who had just come went back to the bedroom, where I could hear him flop down onto the bed.

This went on for another hour. The me who was screwing my ass finally filled my butthole with come and limped back to the bedroom. I took three more loads of cum up my ass, five in my mouth (all of which I was forced to swallow), and one pulled out of my ass just before coming and shot his wad all over my face, where it dripped down my cheeks and onto my chest. The last me got me up off my knees and took me into the bathroom, where he jerked off on the lid of the toilet seat and made me lick it up.

That last one went to the bedroom and flopped down with the rest, all of which had combined back into a single alternate version of me. That me came into the bathroom, where I was covered with cum and had it dripping out my asshole and down between my legs. He undid my cuffs and turned on the shower for me.

When I finally went to bed and combined back with him, it was eerie—I could remember every version of what I’d just done, and could see the look on my own face as I took my cum shots every which way. Even after all that, my cock stirred a little, and I managed one more jerk-off. I knew that we—I—would be doing this again soon.