Vanity must truly be the hallmark of a good Foundation client, or at least the sign of a customer I’ll enjoy. I was particularly pleased when a young stud came through the front door asking to find a man that was good enough for him. He was decent-looking, with well-toned muscles and a handsome face, but I inquired as to what exactly he was looking for. The Foundation tends to specialize in archetypes of form and sexuality, so it often helps to be specific. However, the young man was hard-pressed to provide any explanation other than “good enough”, saying that he’d know what he was looking for when he say it. It seemed that even he didn’t know quite what he was looking for, but in seeing the portentous ring on his left hand, I stumbled across the notion that my new customer had recently acquired a wondering heart. I sighed with a smile, assuring I’d do my best to sate his desires. In scrolling through the catalog though, I found myself confounded as to what should be done for the young man since the request was so vague. It wasn’t until he distractedly withdrew his phone, taking a picture of himself wearing a fake smile for some social site, that inspiration struck with the swift brilliance of lightning.
On the way to the transformation the young man introduced himself as Kalvin, Kal for short, and even proved to be marginally endearing. He spoke on his beauty attracting the unattractive in such a naive way that I’m certain he didn’t realize how shallow he sounded, as he’d asked to be matched with a better man himself. It was sort of adorable after a fashion. He wasn’t horribly depreciating about it, instead speaking as if his gauging of others’ appeal was a matter of fact, not opinion. I might’ve attempted to explain how tonally deaf was on these matters, but no sooner had I felt the urge than I was ushering him through his fateful door.
Kalvin’s eyes went wide as he regarded the strange room he’d entered. He’d expected something like a lounge or bar, a hook-up scene, since he’d been looking for a man, but the only ones present were wearing lab coats. That’s not to say they weren’t attractive, however. To their credit, Kal might’ve even considered them had they been that ever elusive “good enough”, and though he couldn’t be certain, an unseemly bulge in at the crotch of each man’s coat made it seem that they wore nothing underneath. As the customer gawked, I explained that this was one of our many research labs where collected objects of interest were analyzed and new programs were developed for future client use. I told him that we had one such project in the works, one that both served his interests and required a new test subject. He readily agreed to help.
He wasn’t nearly as shy to undress himself as most are upon their first visit to the Foundation. We explained that it was necessary for the experiment, and he didn’t so much as inquire as to the reason. With a cocky smile, he shucked off his shirt, pants, and even his own underwear without a hint of shame. He stood on display amid the lab of professional twinks, hunks, and bears with a barely masked air of pride, and it wasn’t hard to see why. The young stud’s physique reflected the subtle musculature of a Grecian statue, rife with boyish beauty. His cock, an appendage of decent length, was semi-erect like a peach nearly ripe for the picking. Kalvin took a certain pleasure in seeing the surrounding scientists drool while those unseemly bulges he’d noticed earlier began to throb.
Next Kalvin was lead into a side-room. Cameras occupied the upper corners of the small, white enclosure, and one-way windows lined the wall connecting to the lab. Clearly some form of observation room, Kal smiled as he mused upon what exactly the researcher’s were so eager to view while he was present. From the door behind him one of men in a lab coat handed him his smartphone, previously discarded with his pants. He thanked the man, and vague blush overcame the man’s face. He was one of the bulkier researchers, his muscled arms pressing tightly against the sleeves of his lab coat, which made his juvenile enamorment with Kal all the more adorable. The hunk in white barely managed to blurt out that he’d installed a new application onto the phone for Kalvin to test before nervously bumbling out the room and sealing the door behind him. Kal shrugged with a smile, trying not to laugh. He would’ve liked to ask more questions as to what he was exactly meant to test, but perhaps that was part of the experiment as well. He unlocked his phone to find, as promised, a new icon on his homescreen, “Narcis”.
Kalvin opened the application, not knowing what to expect. He was led through a pretty basic sign up process as he was asked for his first name, age, and such. Then the app asked for what he was looking, but instead of providing options or allocating an area for providing a description, a camera icon appeared. Kal assumed that he was meant to take a picture of what he found appealing, and tapped the button hoping he’d be able to select a picture from his phone. Instead Kal found himself regarding his own handsome face. He laughed, half due to surprise and half from the implied narcissism of the concept, upon realizing the app had activated his front-facing camera. With another one of those fake smiles, he took another appealingly flirtatious selfie. He appraised the photo with a wistful sense of pleasure, contemplating as to whether this would be used as his profile picture. If so, he would surely be one of the most handsome users on the app.
He approved the photo’s use, and after a brief period of loading, an avalanche of pictures filled Kal’s screen, nearly overwhelming the young man. The sheer number of users in a prototype such as this was unbelievable, beyond the hundreds, but what was more uprising to Kalvin was how sexy he found each of the profiles. Displayed in a neat, grid-like feed, he was shocked to find that every single one of the men were on-par with his standards. Inundated with a flood of options, the most viable that Kal had seen in a while, he eagerly selected the first of the bunch. The profile picture that he’d tapped expanded across the screen, filling it alongside information such as the associated username and other such information. Kal payed little attention to such trivialities, however, as his eyes drank up the image like creatures dying of thirst. The photo displayed a burly man who appeared to be as uninhibited as Kalvin regarding a lack of clothing. His muscular, bare chest was covered in wiry mats of masculine body hair, and a telling trail towards the bottom of the picture made Kal regret that it stopped above the waist. He had a full, bushy beard hanging from his chin with pipe protruding from its source. The man almost looked like a lumberjack, the hirsute epitome of masculinity, but in particular, Kal liked something about the face.
At the very bottom of the profile was another button, and Kal nearly tapped it on instinct, expecting the app would notify the man or start a chat like most other hook-up apps. It wasn’t until he read it that he paused. “Simulate”? Perplexed, Kalvin’s gaze strayed back up to the username. His brows furrowed in confusion upon seeing the moniker “Kalibear”, before taking a second look at the hairy man in the picture, his face specifically. Kalibear stared back with unblinking eyes, and Kal suddenly had the uncanny feeling he was looking into a murky mirror.
Then he gasped, his grasp slightly slipping on the phone. It was hard to see under the beard and pipe, but now that he’d spotted it, the resemblance was uncanny. Kalibear looked exactly like him.
He was so busy examining the picture that Kal hadn’t noticed his hand had readjusted amidst his revelation, inadvertently pressing the “simulate” button. As he gazed into the strange, yet familiar, visage, the faint scent of tobacco began to fill the small room. Kalvin didn’t notice as it wafted into his nose, too focused on the strange mystery before him. The warmth of another body close behind his was disregarded. Kal ignored the tickling of a beard on his neck and a breath at the tip of his ear, assuming the room was simply drafty. It wasn’t until the sudden intrusion from behind that Kalvin cried out in a bizarre combination of pain, surprise, and pleasure as someone gracelessly plunged their cock deep into his perfectly toned rear.
Kal quickly swung around, aiming to strike whoever had taken such liberties with him, yet his fist merely sailed through the air, unimpeded by anybody. He stared in shock, unable to believe his eyes, upon seeing that there was no one behind him. However, when he looked down to his ass, still feeling very much penetrated, he saw his checks widening for some unseen intruder. He felt hairy thighs pressed against his shaved ass, and his cheeks were pressed in such a way that they were vaguely flattened due to another man’s weight. That’s when he felt the hard, callous hands seizing his shoulders, spinning him back forward with amazing strength. Struggling against the invisible hold, the cock slid further into Kal’s puckered hole. He gasped, surprised by the inordinate amount pleasurable, as his invisible lover began to roughly piston in and out of his ass, causing the young man to moan euphorically.
It was only through the vaguest sense of sex-dizzy mindfulness that Kalvin, as his rear was being viciously pounded, looked down to the phone still in his hand. Above Kalibear’s profile a small Narcis symbol flashed in the notification bar. Checking it, Kalvin saw a progress bar labeled “Kalibear” filled to be half full. Beginning to understand, he looked back down to read the profile’s description between moan-educing thrusts of the invisible cock.
“I ain’t one of them soft lovers, boy. I fuck to fuck, and I fuck hard. Pick me if you want to fuck yourself hard, boy.”
Kalvin had no idea how it was done, but he finally understood. He was being fucked by himself. At first he was shocked and repulsed by the notion. He looked at the profile pic with an expression of disgust, the thought of a hairy version of him heartily ramming his ass revolting to his natural thinking, but the longer he stared at the mirrored, masculinized version of his own face, the more he became aroused. He kept thinking about the body behind him, putting his own face to the rhythmic pounding and the restraining grasps. The sensation of the other Kal’s hairy legs pressed against the back of his caused his cock to throb, already hard from the thorough fucking he was giving himself. A sheen of sweat began to glisten on his perfectly smooth skin, the euphoric heat of getting fucked by himself proving to be too much.
As Kal flicked Kalibear’s profile away and surveyed the cascade of grided options on the phone before him, he relinquished a groan of sexual euphoria. Hundreds of Kalvins stared back at him, all as sexy as the original in Kal’s own eyes, yet teach had something different to offer. One might give him the best blowjob in the world. Another might rim him like no one else could. Daddy Kalvin, Master Kalvin, or even Slave Kalvin were all amidst the innumerable viable choices for countless hot scenarios, each as unique and erotic as Kal himself. The concept of the endless hours of sex in no one’s hands but his own, the rough and consistent pounding Kalibear was giving his sweet ass, and just the mere thought of himself enjoying it all caused Kalvin to come, and no sooner was he spraying his jizz onto the sterile, white floor that he felt himself coating his own insides with his own cum.