Description You can get lots of strange stuff on eBay—even a Twinner 3000. And if you’re obsessed with twins, you might just buy it even if there’s no chance in hell it could possibly work.
|Updated||01 Mar 2004|
Sometimes my obsession with twinning leads me to do silly things. I must spend the whole night dreaming about it—hot guys who somehow find themselves with two bodies, and then spend all their time kissing each other, sharing the experience of groping and fondling and fucking—because I’ve been waking up boned and flushed with arousal every morning for years now, and that’s some pretty stubborn morning wood. (Thank goodness I didn’t have a roommate anymore—that had been so embarrassing, when I did have one, knowing he knew about my morning boner and found it amusing.) A stroke-off in bed and another in the shower will only take care of it some of the time; other days I end up hurrying across campus self-consciously, my slab of hard cock obvious in my jeans to anyone who cares to look.
But I was talking about the silly things I do, like Internet searches for hot hunk twins. I even entered “twins” into eBay, just to see what I would get. Most of the time it was just posters of the Hall twins (who visited my dreams occasionally) or Sugar Twin collectables or stuff about the Twins baseball team. Once, though, I found a remarkable thing: The “Twinner 3000,” which touted itself as a device that allowed you enjoy the illusion of having an identical twin by “projecting” your image onto someone else. It was being sold, very slightly used, by a seller with the profile name of “soccertwins.” I clicked on the profile; the seller’s personal page had a picture, which made me almost instantly hard—they were twins, about my age but very hot and built, almost too hot, like Abercrombie models. The pic showed them in tee shirts from the waist up, arms around each other and smiling slyly. On the basis of that picture, which would have induced me to put Saskatchewan on my Amex, I bid on and won the Twinner 3000. But it never came, and at some point I forgot about it.
Another silly thing I did was casually asking friends to see who knew any twins (using a fictional research project as a cover). By this means I heard about a friend of a friend whose graduate thesis really was about multiple births, which had involved research on the student body. He had managed to identify forty sets of twins at our college of 1100 students, which is above the national average; and amazingly 6 sets of identical twins, including four sets of males.
I took the graduate student out for drinks (this was early September before classes started—we were both stating in town between semesters) and pumped him for information, and learned a great deal about the real-world aspect of my favorite fantasy. Especially intriguing was the hint that if one identical twin was gay it was more than likely the other was too—and this seems to be the case in one of the sets he’d interviewed. In fact, he’d sensed that they were subtly coming on to him, tag team style (my new graduate student friend, Adam, was unexpectedly handsome), and I gathered he was more than a little tempted. He’d always had, he said, a strong interest in twins.
I watched him surreptitiously adjust himself as he spoke of it and realized with a little thrill that I might have found a kindred spirit. We were still tucked away in a U-shaped booth at the off-campus watering hole (just “hole” was more accurate), struggling through a second plate of beef nachos and a third round of margaritas. I had to find out more.
I noticed his leg was touching mine under the table. I reciprocated. “So Adam, you’re a hot gay man,” I said, slurring my words very slightly. He giggled. “Tell me, do you turn yourself on?”
“Sure,” he said unguardedly. “Why, aren’t you attracted to yourself? You’re pretty hot too.”
“So, are you?” he asked.
“Yeah, I guess I am.” In spades. I was, for better or worse, exactly my type. I decided a while ago that my thing about twinning has a lot to do with being unable to kiss the one guy I thought was pretty hot that I saw all the time. A part of my thought it was pretty pathetic, but I guess you can’t help who you were attracted to.
But I wasn’t obsessed to the point of narcissism. Actually I was beginning to find friend Adam, with his bright eyes, square shoulders and wisp of a goatee, very appealing. Especially since we had something in common.
As I paid the check I caught him eyeing me thoughtfully (or as thoughtfully as his current state would allow). As we walked back toward campus, talking about hunk twins and attraction and so on, we passed through the empty football field and Adam stopped and looked at me. “I want to try something,” he said, and suddenly he kissed me. His kiss was warm and strong and sweet from the margaritas. He pulled back with his eyes closed and a smile. Our arms were around each other—I didn’t remember doing that.
“I imagined it was me I was kissing,” he said simply, grinning as if he’d gotten away with something. “Now you try.”
I looked at him for a moment. I wasn’t sure I wanted to go down that road. “C’mon,” he said. “I know you want to. I won’t mind—I’ll be kissing me again.”
So I tried it—what the heck? I concentrated, and let my mind kind of impose my own face on Adam’s, grinning wickedly like he was. The illusion was far from perfect, but being a little drunk it didn’t take much for me to willingly delude myself that it was me I was kissing. It helped that we were more or less the same build—Adam was a little more muscular, but I just pretended as my hands roamed over his back and arms and shoulders that my body had been improved when it was twinned, and that was even hotter.
We stood there in the deserted football field for hours making out like we were starved for each other. It was unbelievable. Even without sex—we were afraid, I think, of ruining the illusion, though we did end up sleeping (or rather, passing out) together, clothes on, in my dorm room bed—it was without question one of the hottest nights of my life.
The next morning I was very groggy and a little hung over. I would have stayed in bed all day, class or no class (partly because Adam was a very good snuggler), but around 10 someone banged on my door. I got gingerly out of my bed, trying not to wake the sleeping Adam, and opened the door. It was a pretty hot UPS guy. He looked down and smiled, and I realized a full inch of my morning boner was sticking out of my rumpled jeans. I smiled sheepishly and took the package and signed for it, and off he went, bubble butt twitching in the brown polyester. Then I sat down at my desk and opened it.
I laughed. It was the Twinner 3000.
“This should be good for a chuckle,” I thought. It was about the size and shape of a Discman, with a pair of mini-headphones. On the side were a series of buttons, marked with labels like “Acquire Subject,” “Choose Target,” and so on. On one end there was an infrared pointer, which I figured was used for choosing and acquiring. There were no instructions.
Still chuckling, I put the headphones on, pointed the device at myself and pressed Acquire Subject. As I did so I noticed a button that said, “Augment.” I pressed it five times, half expecting to feel something happen to my body, but of course nothing did.
I then pointed the thing at the still slumbering Adam and pressed Choose Target. Then I pressed Start.
Immediately I felt as though I’d been plugged into an electrical socket. A teeth-jarring charge pushed through my body, and as it did so my clothes became incredibly tight across my chest and shoulders and around my thighs and calves. My socks too. I could barely pay attention to these feelings—I thought I was dying. My heart was flogging itself to death in my chest. After an endless minute it stopped, and I collapsed to my knees, my jeans ripping open up my butt-crack as I did so.
My heart started to slow down and my ears stopped buzzing. I heard someone say, “Steve, are you O.K.?”
I raised my head slowly. I stared. In my bed, wearing Adam’s clothes, was a five-times augmented version of me.
I stood up slowly. Adam-me was staring back at me. “Damn, Steve,” he whispered.
I kept standing up. I realized I was taller. Adam-me was staring frankly at my waist. I looked down to see a half a foot of cock sticking out of my jeans instead of an inch. A half a foot of cock, and that was what was sticking out. And it was as thick as a wrist.
“What—” Adam-me said. He was starting to realize he felt strange himself.
I had a small mirror in my toiletry kit, left over from Boy Scout camping days. I dug it out and give it to him. He started into it and said nothing. When he looked up I showed him the device.
“I got a Twinner 3000,” I said lamely.
Adam-me’s eyes lit up. God, was I really that hot?
We spent the whole day together, trading off, making out passionately, having animal sex, dozing, starting over. We were both me for a while, and then Adam wanted to try. All you had to do was press “End,” and we went back to normal (although I think it wasn’t quite back to normal—I think there was a slight residual size increase for my muscles and cock each time I returned from an augmented body to normal). Then we started over with the device.
It was a very strange feeling, to suddenly find yourself in someone else’s body, but I found to my delight that twinning is just as much fun when it’s the other guy’s bod—especially if that bod is as hot as Adam’s. (We only did two augmentations on him at first, because he already had a monster tool and I wasn’t sure I could take it if it were much bigger.)
I found I really liked being in Adam’s body while making love to another Adam, the original Adam—that was even better than the orgasmic sensation realizing my fantasy of kissing my own lips.
That night we were curled up in my bed as two quadruple-augmented Adams watching TV when we realized we were famished.
“Hey, I have an idea,” I said. “Let’s go out!”
“Like this?” Adam said doubtfully, but I could tell he was intrigued.
“Sure,” I said. “Somewhere they don’t know you. Dinner, dancing, maybe pick up a guy—”
“And twin him?” Adam said eagerly.
“If he wants.”
We managed to find some thick college jerseys big enough to fit us. Pants were a problem; we ended up wearing workout sweats, which would have done very little to hide our fantastic cocks had we been able to get them down. As it was, we had to stuff our monster erections into socks and then use a couple of Ace bandages (I had several from when I twisted my knee at last year’s gymnastics regionals) to bind the monsters to our abdomens. We both thought this was hysterical, and we kept rubbing the other’s cock as we unrolled the Ace bandage. Then, fully dressed, we hugged and kissed for a while, enjoying the feel of our huge muscles and cocks pressing together. We looked into the full mirror behind the door as we did so, immensely turned on to see the two identical gorgeous muscle hunk twins making out.
“Damn,” I said.
“Look at us,” finished Adam.
Finally we were able to make it out the door, laughing at the pure joy of the sensations we’d experienced. We drove into the city, pleasantly surprised to find it was a little harder to fit into a car (Adam had an old, reliable Toyota). We had dinner at a Mexican place in the city, laughing the whole time, periodically slapping the other one’s abs to see if he was still hard (in fact we both stayed hard the whole night). The wait staff was fascinated by us; in fact the waiter, Kenny, a cute enough guy who turned out to be an incoming freshman at the college who had just moved into town and was on his first day on the job, sat down with us as we ate and asked all kinds of questions about twins, whether we were psychic, working out together, and soon. He was sweet, smart, interesting, and very cute. We got his schedule from him and said we’d come back again soon, and then we headed out to go dancing, feeling him staring at us as we left.
That night at the bars we got hit on a lot, by a lot of hot guys, especially after the sweat we worked up (Adam’s body sweated more than mine did—as we’d found out earlier in the day) revealed some of what we were packing under our warm shirts. It was so much fun teasing them that we ended up not picking anyone up, though we did let them buy us drinks. Doubles, we said laughingly. Anyway we were having too much fun watching each other dance and laugh.
In the end we drank enough that we decided to take a cab home. One of our more ardent swains, a really hot swimmer-type, tried to get into the cab with us. Instead we kissed him, together, and while he was recovering from that three-way twin kiss we piled into the cab and told the driver to head out.
On the way home, our inner legs intertwined, our thoughts went back to the kid at the restaurant. We told the driver to take us to the restaurant instead. He was just leaving. I rolled down the window. “Hey Kenny,” I called.
He turned and grinned at us. “Hey,” he said.
“You want a ride?”
He pointed to his car, a little dejected, then he brightened up. “I have a better idea,” he said. “I’ll give you a ride.”
We grinned, and after a few minutes we had paid off the cabbie and were cruising back to campus in his convertible.
We talked about twins, boyfriends, his hometown out West. Then before we’d even realized it we were in the parking lot and the engine was off.
We got out and stood next to the car, each of us wondering how far to go. Then Adam bit the bullet.
“Kenny, did you ever want to be a twin? Like us?”
Kenny looked from one “Adam” to the other. “Are you kidding? I dream about it every night. I’d kill to be like you guys.”
I chuckled. “It may not come to that.”
Adam took the Twinner 3000 out of his pocket and pressed “End.” Suddenly we were both standing in front of him, in our regular bodies. Kenny gasped. Adam handed it to me, and a moment later two quadruple-augmented Steves were standing in front of him. We hadn’t both been me in a while and we couldn’t resist coming together and making out for like five minutes before turning back to Kenny somewhat sheepishly. The poor guy had a big wet spot to one side of his crotch—he’s clearly come in his pants watching the two hunked-up Steves making out.
“Now,” I said, returning us back to normal, “which of us would you like to be?”
Kenny just beamed at us.
In the end Kenny spent most of the night as double-augmented Adam (big but not too big—well, too big but not impossible). We were at Adam’s place off campus this time, since he had more room (and a queen-sized bed). I had fun with them and then, while I was playing with the device, I discovered that if you acquired yourself as a subject and pressed Start without choosing a target, something amazing happened. As soon as I did this, and the transformation of my own body was complete, I realized that there was a fourth hunk in the room with us.
Adam and Adam-Kenny (they’d worked back up to quadruple augmentation and looked unbelievably awesome, Adam’s huge, beautiful body intertwined with Adam’s huge, beautiful body) were staring to my left, jaws dropped, eyes bulging.
Standing to my left was another me—a brand new me, built from scratch. I stared into my own eyes with wonder. I don’t know how many time’s I’d hit Augment—six? seven? ten?—but both of my bodies were bursting with muscle and were perfectly proportioned. We had to be close to seven feet tall. My face, our face, was devastatingly cute, the augmentation having worked even more than before on our attractiveness. And that’s not all. There must have been a limit on how much the cock could be augmented, a practicality circuit perhaps, because instead of one ankle-length cock each of my bodies had two knee-length cocks—which very quickly became impossibly huge and mind-blowing erections topping out just at my collarbone, both forearm thick and widest, like my original boner, just above the middle, like a cobra. Just to be erect was a nearly orgasmic pleasure with these monsters, and they were already drooling precum steadily onto my bowling-ball-sized pecs.
I couldn’t stop staring. Then we grinned together and fell into each other’s powerful arms, while the two beautiful Adams laughed in delight.
Eventually, after we’d had too much fun, we fell asleep and slept like the dead well into the next afternoon—fortunately it was Saturday.
I woke up with a clear head at the bottom of a pile of wonderful bodies. Carefully I edged out of bed and went to piss, watching in fascination as two streams of yellow splashed into the bowl.
I came back to the bed and looked stupidly at the bodies in the bed. There were three Steves in the bed—not just one! And they weren’t Adam and Kenny—there were two Adams in bed too!
With some difficulty I searched my memory and came up with a late decision to try duplicating me again, to see if the first dupe went away; only that time I pressed Start twice by accident. By that time we were so exhausted that we didn’t have much of a chance to break in my new twins.
I shook my head fondly and reluctantly picked up the Twinner. I had to return to normal for my gymnastics team practice that night. I sighed and pointed it at my sleeping twins and pressed End.
Heart pounding, I tried again. Nothing. The other mes twitched comfortably, and found new positions among the two Adams.
Turning the Twinner over, looking to see if it might be out of batteries, I noticed the tiny warning label on the bottom:
“Warning: Changes maintained for more than eight hours become permanent.”
My heart stopped. I stared down at my transformed body and my three identical twins and my mind just went blank for a while. Then I shrugged. Whatever happened, it was so worth it.
I woke up Adam. He couldn’t End Kenny’s transformation into a quadruple-augmented Adam either. The five of us stood around him, worried on his behalf, but surprisingly he didn’t care. He’d just moved here, didn’t know anyone; he’d just get a new job in his new bod. His dream had come true, and he was thrilled.
We hugged in a circle—two superhunk Adams (one the grad student original and one of them a freshman named Kenny), and four superhunk Steves (the gymnast prototype and three duplicates from scratch)—and as we enjoyed the press of our bulging arms and shoulders Adam-Kenny said, “Guys, think about it. Maybe this is just the beginning!”