Subject: CODY: HELL-LO, DOLLY!
From: mithryl@walrus.com (Mithryl)
Date: 1997/03/01
Message-Id: <5f9snm$t92@alice.walrus.com>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.bondage,alt.sex.stories,rec.arts.prose,alt.politics.sex
HELL-lo, DOLLY!
BY CODY ANN MICHAELS
(c.) All rights reserved.
"The people who would do this are evil incarnate. The most
materialistic people. The ones afraid of the flesh withering. Movie
people. Narcissists..." -- R. F., a divorce lawyer, on what the NY Times
said was "widespread agreement that only the most venal would opt for
duplication" (cloning of themselves). 2/27/97
"Did He who made the Lamb make thee?"
No. Dr. Wilmut made the lamb. I'm a product of Mr. Bartholemew's
ninth grade science class. Some guys thought it would be neat to mix up a
second Kelly Ann Morgan, the school punchboard. You know, like, double
your pleasure, double your fun.
They make the monkeys in a lab under the gym. And the elephants
at a place out in west Dade. But most of the exotic stuff comes from
southeast Asia.
Think of it. No more endangered species! We can make anything.
White rhinos. California condors. Snail darters. Gorgeous dumb
showgirls. Loggers will now be able to cut down the last of the old
growth timber, knowing that the genes of the spotted owl are forever safe
in a test tube in Brussels. And after we have restored the balance of
nature, we can get into designer stuff, like griffins and unicorns. And
maybe even bring back the sabre tooth tygers.
Am I the only one in America honest enough to admit I'd love to
see a dozen of me running all over the place? Each one in a different
color. God, people are so stuffy. Of course, I can see why a lot of
people might not want to meet themselves face to face. Warts and all.
Clinton. Gingrich. Well, they're enough alike already to make anyone
sick.
But Kelly is beautiful. She is just totally the most beautiful
person I've ever met. It's like looking into a mirror. Sometimes I
almost forget which one of us is supposed to be the clone.
Well, that would be another problem. For instance, would clones
have civil rights? And would they be the same as ... what would you call
them? Human? I mean us. We are, after all, the humans. Aren't we? But
is a clone human? I mean, is Dolly a re al sheep? Gets tricky, doesn't
it?
And then there's the question of mixed marriage. Like, if you
can't marry your girl friend in Georgia, could you marry your clone? Or
someone else's. And then there is the question of the progeny -- if any.
For instance, clones might turn out like mu les. Hybrids. Unable to
produce. Or have children, except, of course, by cloning. But leave that
aside, suppose they could. What would the children be? Clones or ...
whatever you call us. People. Would a clone be a person? I can imagine
myself th ree or four generations on, and someone asks me, was one of your
ancestors a clone, Miss Michaels? Like, what does that mean? In Germany,
it could mean a lot. Like an invitation to Dachau.
And then, suppose, there were unforeseen side effects. Like, the
sheep can talk. He didn't mention that. It seemed best to hold that in
reserve for awhile. After all, this was Scotland. Look what they did to
Priestly. What was that novel? The Nigh t of the Pag-Beast. They
impaled the girl on the spike fence in the front yard. The fact that
Dolly can talk and do calculus, and can recite the U.N. Charter, does that
give her rights?
Remember Tobermorry. T.Morry was a cat, who one day let everyone
know he could talk. It was one of those chi chi little house parties in
the Hamptons. At first, everyone was excited and thought it was, well,
the cat's meow. Until they remembered the things they had said in front
of him when they thought he was just a dumb cat. That was it. Tober went
through all nine lives in a single evening. So memo to Dolly: keep your
head down and your mouth shut.
This is a joke: I knew a guy once who had himself cloned, but the
clone turned out to have a foul mouth. He was always cursing and telling
dirty jokes. So the man took him up to a cliff above the city and pushed
him off. He figured since he and the clone were the same person, he had
a right to kill him. But he was arrested anyway. Why? Because it's
illegal to make an obscene clone fall.
What I'm waiting for is for it to sink in that the clone doesn't
have to come from someone who's still alive. Sooner or later, it's going
to click that you can bring back little Billy who was unfortunately
squished by a steam roller or fell into the gear box at the Coney Island
Merry Go Round. Remember, this is the millenium we are headed for, the
turning point in Christian history, when the dead are supposed to rise
from their graves. Hello, Dolly. It's so nice to see ewe back in town.
What did you think? That it was going to happen by accident? An act of
God. Bet you're sorry now you had yourself cremated. Too bad, o ye of
little faith. You should have listened to Nostradamus.
Think of all the famous dead who can now be restored. Elvis. The
Smith Brothers. Nicole and Ron. The Menendez parents. Vince Foster.
Bob Dole. Just with a few bits and pieces of skin or a hank of hair.
They took me off Kelly's nipples. That woul d be another thing? Would it
matter where the dead flesh came from? Maybe that's why my skin's so
peachy creamy. I'm like butter. And sensitive. You just have to touch
me and I go off like a bomb. I think even Kelly is jealous. After all,
she's the older one. Where I came from. The question is not about
rights, but who has them. She's like my mother, even though technically
we're both fifteen. Both exciting redheads. Both well endowed with grey
green eyes and pretty anime faces.
The guys went nuts. We did it. Slap hands. Hi five. Now, what
are we going to do with them?
I don't want to tell, because it hurts too much. I want to stop
thinking about this altogether. Each clone had a file on it, and each
wore a tracking collar that would make it possible to monitor. Like the
internet, it was impossible to regulate clone manufacture, but we did try
to impose limits on obscene activities, especially where children were
involved. A clone that let itself be used by children was automatically
held responsible. The collar was choking her. She was crawling around
the traile r park. Finally, it was decided she had learned her lesson,
and the current went off. Consider this a warning, bitch.
Cops could activate the collar with a baton, but they had to have
a reason. It would start all over again. Your papers, where are your
papers? Your papers are in order. Or not. Each having a different
consequence. Paris, before the war. Everyone l aughed and said they
wouldn't want that. Not me. No clone of me. But each secretly saved up
their fingernails and the strands of hair that caught on their combs when
they combed their hair in the morning. You could cut off pieces of your
flesh so that when you died, you could be brought back as your clone.
Your clones could live forever. Perpetuating your deepest memory. Which
is genes. DNA in the genes. Who you really are. All in code. You
wouldn't want to hurt your clone, would you? And you might do anything to
keep it from being hurt. So Kelly would defend me, and they would like
take her apart.
It was interesting to watch. Because we looked so much alike.
Kelly fought like a demon. But she was no match for them. She only
weighed a 122 pounds. And each of her tits must have weighed fifteen
pounds each. So you see there wasn't much left for those long legs and
belly. I realize I'm describing myself. But the same applies to Kelly.
Butch punched her in the face.
The interesting thing is, I felt it.
My head spun. For a second I thought I actually was Kelly. Then
I saw the fist coming again, and I ducked. It passed over her. She tried
to knee him in the crotch. But someone hit her across the back of the
head with a iron pipe. Kelly dropped down on her knees, holding her hands
up to her chest. Her eyes closed. I saw him drive his knee up under her
chin. The gorgeous little chorus girl spat blood.
They could make as many of her as they wanted. Carving chunks out
of her tits. Selling them to guys who wanted to do this. Legally. She
has no rights. Scary.
I don't think I can handle it. Having another me around the
place. Or him. Get out. What would I want with him? They all knew.
Smiles all around. Repressed giggles. Imagine me coming back as a girl.
What would that be like? What would I do over ? Or not do? No. I
wouldn't want to do it. Wouldn't want to see Kel hurt that way again. In
the end, they got me anyway. It was even worse. But you know what really
hurt? Was knowing Kelly could feel it too. What was happening to me.
And I was f eeling her pain. On top of mine. It was like a double load.
I was carrying her, too. She was dragging at me. Get off me, bitch, I
screamed. Let me go. But it was like she was crawling up my backbone,
paralysing me. I felt her hands on my chest. D angling from my tits.
She was inside me. I couldn't get free. Coming for my soul. I shrieked
and shrieked.
When I woke up, I was sitting in a hospital corridor. Just
sitting there. With a paper gown around myself. I might have been
crying. I know I did. But not when. Except for the gown and a pair of
green hospital slippers, I was naked. My hair was sh ort, too. I didn't
know how I looked. People went by but no one seemed to pay any attention
to me. A little boy stopped and stared. Mummy, is that lady real? What
gets cloned? Does a clone have a soul? After all, you just get one.
From whoever iss ues them. If you clone yourself, will your soul be
divided? And what now that the sheep has been divided? Is a sheep
souled? And if so, what are the consequences of dividing the sheep?
A new kind of hole has been created in the soul stream. Are souls
elastic, and can they be shared? As for instance, when one donates a
kidney. If I can donate my soul to my clone, what is there left for me?
Have I not made the supreme sacrifice, and I am I not then worthy to enter
into the kingdom of heaven. Or have I created a blasphemy and must be
cast down into hell? To be the whore of demons. Fucked continuously in
the fiery pit. Yes. But then, what is getting fucked? Since I gave my
soul a way. Who or what is burning? My body? My soft luscious senuous
scumbag body. Wow. Right on. Die, honey. Suffer. Cody in Hell. The
Fifth Reich. I had this match box with His testacle in it I'd been saving
up. Adolph, mein Adolph. Ya wohl. Sig Hi! The entire Wehrmacht made up
of Cody Clones. All goosestepping in little black mini skirts and pink
panties. Adolph and me. I don't think so. I would never sell out my
birthright. You cannot be born again if you have lost your soul.
Still, we are undeniablely at the edge of the abyss. Skirting the
high edge of the millenium as it gathers speed exponentally. What does
the sheep say?> The sheep says "baaaaa". Baal. The horned god. The
dancer in the cave. The animals are startin g to come out. Are you
washed in the blood of the lamb?
*
I don't have any memory of what happened next. Just waking up in
the dark and not being able to breath. I got panicky and cried out. No
one heard me. I was like burning up. Like I was on fire. An electic
voltage was running through me. I knew the building had fallen in. And I
was trapped. What had happened? I tried to think. Be calm. Just take
it easy. They'll get me out. They have dogs that find you. Like the
ones in the airport. Oh God. I thought he'd smell it all the way up my
crotch hole, but he just looked away. They stuff the stuff into you just
before you get on the plane. Right there in public, like we're kissing
and he has his hand up under my dress, planting the package. Maybe the
plane crashed. How'd I get here? They were jerking her insides out.
With a machete and some other implements. Sutcher. On 3. Two. One.
Not yet. The precise pressure. Now. at the precise spot. She jumped.
At the precise time. Of course, she doesn't know anything. But if she
did, she'd be babbling by now. Wouldn't you sweetie? He held her face in
one hand and squeezed her cheeks together. And shook her head. Then
slapped it. Kelly's brains fell out. That's what it felt like. Cody
couldn't remember. Was she here? Kel? Oh my go d, Kel, what happened?
She could see Kelly's leg sticking out from under a chair. The rest of
her was on the sofa. Don't worry. DNA will fix all that. By
regenerating lost limbs from old tissue. She could walk again. But with
a limp. Because the n ew leg is longer than the old one. And throws her
off balance. Slap. Kelly. Get up, Kel. The pretty redhead stumbled
around the bar, soliciting favors. Cigarette. Match. Phone number.
Anyone could have her. She was everybody's girl friend. I'm getting
tired of this, Kel. I want to go home. But where is a clone's home?
Think well of that before you say yes. Or agree to go somewhere. A phone
clone might leave many messages you don't wish to send. And you would
edit them out, until it was th e way you wanted it to read. And the clone
would be pissed. And take it out on ... who? Not you. You're in
complete control. But a clone isn't. Suppose you needed a new
transplant, I don't know what, a kidney or something. Your clone could
donate i t to you. Or anything else you might happen to need. A new
knee. Anything. Tits. Hair. New skin. A walking donor for every man
woman and children on the earth. Your clone could give you everything.
Well, give is not exactly the word. A clone is required to be available
for -- oh, shall we say it --his or her master's needs. Of course, after
awhile, they would get to look a bit exotic. Living body sculptures.
Carving clones could be fun. The rich might have more than one. But the
poor would have only one, and sometimes might have to share. A lively
clone trade would spring up, as people sold their clones on the black
market like children to make a little extra money, and the rich traded
them back and forth. What would you trade Cody for? Hmmmm, that
passionate brunette you use for rides round the park. Alexandra? Alec
cost me two Garbos and a young Kate Hepburn. She'll trample your Cody in
the dust. The fight was on. She was missing her left arm, several teeth
and wore an eyepatch.
If you build it, they will come.
Clone fights were very popular. Bets were placed on the two
girls. Alec used a chain to whip the innocent teenager, marking the soft
white skin. If a clone has a soul, whence does it come? Does the
heavenly father hand out souls to anyone and anythin g that comes along?
Where in the book does it say that? Watch what she does now. The girl
had the whip around her opponent's neck and was dragging her out into the
middle of the arena. Cody fought and kicked. It didn't do any good.
Looks like your g irl can't take it. She left the cow there in the dirt
and walked a little way away. The crowd roared for Cody's blood. Taking a
long steel rod, she drove it down the girl's gullet and out her belly.
Cody jerked and twitched. Alec let her writhe there in the hot sun,
making a spectacle of her luscious body. And then she slit her open.
That was good. Let's make another one.
This time they clipped a chunk off Kelly's clit to make the new
Cody. You could hear the redheaded tramp screaming all over the gym.
Maybe that's why I'm always so horny. They barbequed the old Cody. Which
brings up another moral question: is it a si n to eat your clone? Will
clone meat have to be specially labeled? Will it cause cancer? So much
to be resolved. Years from now, it will all seem so normal. One will
pass a field of sheep and no one will pay attention to which ones are
clones or not. Of course, you might not want to put them in together,
because the cloned sheep will rip the real sheeps' throats out. I mean,
just because someone is genetically identical, does that mean they have to
behave the same way? Or even be exactly alike? L ike, for instance, I
suppose those clowns thought it would be inconceivably funny if Kelly were
to have a dick. Jesus. What am I going to do with this thing? I mean
all of it. The balls, too. Jesus. It's like having two cantaloupes
between my legs. Don't I have enough stuff hanging off me already? Also,
it keeps jerking out of my panties when I'm walking down the street,
especially when I see someone who turns me on, or when someone stares at
my breasts. All ten inches of it. God, no wonder guys go nuts. I always
fantasized about having one of these. It doesn't feel at all like a
dildo. But there's nothing up inside me either. Really weird. I mean,
does a clone have the same memories as the clonee? Like, I know it was
Kelly who wanted a di ck, and what she would do with it. But I'm the one
who has to figure it out.
What kind of clone am I? I still have big tits and long hair.
And I still look like her, except for ... for this. So what's it all
about? Do we always get more than we give? And what becomes of the old
golden rule? Oh no, Kel. Don't. Oh yeah.
Another thing, will a clone be eligible to vote? For that matter,
will they be eligible for food stamps? If the United States outlaws
cloning, and I go to another country to have it done, will my clone become
an automatic American citizen? Will I be a ble to bring her back into the
country? Will a clone of a clone have a soul? Or is there only one soul
being shared between the different threads of a clomunity? For that
matter, what happens as clones are cloned from clones? The boys noticed
that Cod y had a softer, more buttery look than Kelly. By comparison,
Kelly was positively hard edged. They wondered what would happen if they
took the process a step further. The new Cody was, if anything, more
hauntingly lovely that the first, except she had a flat head and pointed
teeth. They had to flush the next experiment down the toilet.
That's another thing: all these failed clones ending up in the
sewer system. Baby alligators is one thing, but taking a shit and having
something from Elementary Biology 101 reach up and grab you... It took
300 tries to get Dolly to come out right. I don't even want to speculate
on the number of Kelly's down there, floating around like jellyfish sorta
like South Beach on a Friday afternoon at four o'clock.
It's only a matter of time before a starlett lets herself be
cloned for the publicity. And there they will be. At Disneyworld.
Krissy and Missy. Both with cleavage out to there. Falling out of their
gold lame minidresses, and talking about scientifi c advancement. Then
there will be the talk shows. Oprah, "now do you feel that you have
fulfilled yourself..."; Sally Jessie, "You fucking whore blaspheme against
God, I hope you...." Geraldo, "Who'd you have to sleep with?" Giving
their opinions. Wi ll Krissy be able to talk? It's Missy. I'm the real
one. Real what? I thought you said she was a real clone. She is, but
I'm more real than she is. Krissy will sit their smiling. A tall,
buttery blonde with forty inch boobs. After all, she is only nine days
old.
The clones had different names, like Slut. Pig. Cunt. Sextoy.
Is this what you think of them>
Q: Don't they have any rights?
A: A clone's only right is to be beautiful. In fact, it's a duty.
How long she lives depends on her looks.
Q: Are they dangerous?
A: They can be. It depends.
Q: On what?
A: On what they are engineered for. Some women are made to fight
and others to lose. This one, for instance, is a real loser.
The yuung women were brought out one after another and lined up.
Now, we're going to have a beauty pageant. Show the boys what you can do.
Christine, a cute blonde, immediately got down and opened up one
of the soldiers' pants and took out his dick. The others laughed as she
gave him a blowjob. Kathy took off her panties and offered them to one of
the directors. Only Cody refused to perf orm. Clones aren't supposed to
have a sense of shame. But she did. Her refusal to cooperate resulted in
a beating and even worse humiliation.
Then the bidding started.
Clones, incidentally, are only licensed. They are not sold.
Opening of the package constitutes an acceptance of the licensing
agreement. Likw, how many men would sell their souls for a good fuck?
You just did. That's where clones get their souls. Take, for instance,
the licensing agree ment that comes with Windows. This was a Eurasian
girl. Just dying to be whipped. Or anything else you could think of to
do to her. She was totally pliable. The girl she came off of was sitting
in the audience, Madame Chou. Men had been after her fo r years. Now
they would get their chance. Madame's double shivered. And tears began
to roll down her cheeks. As her lips trembled. She was disgracing
herself. She knew. In front of these animals. And there was nothing she
could do about it.
Once. Twice. To the Ambassador... An anonymous bidder. Kathy
Chan brought two million pounds.
At first nothing happened. She was allowed to get dressed.
Putting on the red suit with the pink ruffled blouse. She turned to look
at Madame as she was escorted out. Their green eyes met. Madame smiled.
She would be scarred badly, that dark skin smouldering as she
screamed. Then dumped on a street. A two dollar whore. Up against a
wall. Backed over a garbage can. Trying to buy her freedom. But clones
have no freedom. It's part of their charter.
Countess Esterazy, also in need of fresh capital, had entered a
stunning replica of herself....
But why go on? That is another story. The business opportunities
are endless. But more than that: Now, for the first time, everyone will
be able to have someone, maybe more than one, who really knows exactly
what they are going through. You come home from a shit day at the office,
and your clones say, I know exactly how you feel, and they do. Because
they're you, and only you know what it's really like. Your wife may not
understand you, but your clones will.
(Dedicated to the memory of Philip K. Dick)