This story is a work of fiction so if you think you spot a likeness in any of my characters to any real person it is entirely coincidental. There is some male/male sex action with apparent minors, so if you are likely to be offended by this, or if it is illegal for you to read it, read no further. Otherwise enjoy. Jonah
Having filled the mould Anthony and I made straight for the shower (plaster gets you filthy). In his earlier life Anthony had not been well off and would have been no stranger to good old honest dirt, but I had never known him to display any. By day he was a relatively clean mannequin ( well not bad for 130 years old anyway). By night he was a scrupulously clean young boy. The plaster dust he was sporting was the nearest thing to dirt that I had ever seen on him. We stepped into the shower and instantly fell into each others arms. Anthony began kissing me around the neck and moving lower as the water cascaded off our bodies. As he sucked, licked, and nibbled at my suddenly hard nipples I was transported into a dream world. He started drinking from my navel and I seized his lovely head. His lips moved lower and he slipped my erection into his mouth. As he sucked he lay back and pulled me down with him. I was putty in his hands. He was lying on his back with my cock in his mouth. The water must have been running off my cock. I maneouvred myself throughy 180 degrees so that I could reach his little boy's willy. The floor of a shower cubicle is not best suited for a 69 but we cared little for that. The water was building up because one of Anthony's beautiful bum cheeks was sealing the drainhole. I don't think we even noticed. Within minutes I was filling his mouth with my man-juice.
I stood, lifting him to his feet. We began soaping each other. Our fingers probed every crevice. I attended lovingly to his gorgeous feet. He returned the compliment with interest. After we had towelled each other off we fell, exhausted but happy, onto my bed.
It was Sunday morning. I lay naked on my bed. The dummy lay next to me. Somehow the briefs had been replaced, though I imagined they had assumed a tent shape at the front. I hadn't noticed that before. The blue crystal of it's glass eyes seemed to twinkle more than it had before. Had I really succeeded in bringing some sort of meaning to his tortured existence? I kissed the dummy's cheek and got up.
After breakfast I moved the dummy into the living room and parked it next to the enormous block of wax. I knew better than to prise open the mould yet. Even quick-drying plaster would have been hard-put to have finished setting in that quantity. On Anthony's advice I had introduced a makeshift wooden armature into the casting. No doubt a modern mannequin (one that wasn't made of plastic anyway) would have had a steel skeleton, but Anthony was sure he had a wooden one. He was sure, he said, because he'd had to have some repairs done after an incident during the blitz. My imagination boggled, but I daren't ask for more details. Anthony had to be one brave boy. During the morning I made the necessary eyeball castings using clear casting resin and moulding with soft wax. After dinner I cut them to shape. Anthony's hair and eyebrows, during the day, were part of the plaster casting, but - like his eyes - the colour was not the natural plaster colour of the rest of his body. In other words though his skin colour went right through ( that "incident" in the blitz again) his eye,hair and eyebrow colour did not.
It was evening before I ventured to lift the top part of the mould. It lifted cleanly and in one piece. The naked plaster boy was lying face-down on the lower part of the mould. Carefully I lifted the figure by it's heels. It's weight seemed to be on a par with Anthony's and I soon had it upright. I surveyed my work. The new dummy seemed to be identical to the old. The faintest of casting lines showed where the half-moulds had met. That could be rubbed down with a dry sponge - sandpaper would have been too abrasive. I laid the dummy on the dining table. With a kitchen knife I worked at the plaster in the eye sockets, "dishing" them to recieve the new eyeball castings. I painted the dishing in the same improbable colours that had been used on Anthony, and then inserted the resin castings with a touch of "superglue" to keep them in place. I then painted in the dummy's eyebrows and hair - again using the same colours that Anthony sported. When I had finished you could not, apart from the new paint on the new creation, have told the two dummies apart. That done I placed both dummies on my bed and retreated to the pub.
I returned shortly after closing time to find Anthony waiting up for me. I raised my eyebrows questioningly. Anthony nodded. I was overcome with elation. Had I really created a living being? I rushed to the bedroom door. "Wait!" I stopped in my tracks. Slowly I turned to Anthony. The concern on his face rooted me to the spot. "He's asleep" "Then...?" Still I did not understand. "He won't be able to talk to us," he said simply. "He doesn't know how". Realisation flooded in. I had not exactly been drunk before but now I was as sober as something that is a great deal more sober than a judge. Anthony's extra hundred years had given him a grasp of what I had only vaguely realised. I had created Frankenstein's monster. The terrible responsibility of raising this new "child" rested on me alone and already the questions began flooding into my - admittedly somewhat addled - brain. A child needed love as an indispensible part of it's upbringing. Could I provide that. Supposing the child grew to become dangerous? Could I destroy my creation? If the answer was "yes" then already I did not love him enough. How much did he need to learn about the outside world, given that he could not experience that world. Or could I prevent him from experiencing it. If sex became the sum total of the new child's living existence, could I reconcile that with the love I have to feel for him in order to bring him up. "You love me", said Anthony simply. Crikey! could he really read my thoughts. Anthony laughed, "you just became predictable", he said. "To answer your questions:you don't have to bring him up alone. There are two of us. If he becomes dangerous he can only do it here. Remember we can only come alive at night and in private. If I were to go outside that door now I would be plaster before I could shut it behind me. Only a very priviledged few get to see us alive, and that is only because they really care for us, so the question of how much you love him doesn't arise. As for whether it's ethical to enjoy sex with someone you're responsible for - didn't we talk about that on our first night together?" I was stunned., but I weathered it. "One more question Anthony", I ventured. "Oh yes!" said the erstwhile dummy, "Our ages. We both look nine years old, but I am a hundred and thirty so I'm not really a minor. Young Andrew in there is, however, less than twenty-four hours old and so - technically - a minor. So you want to know if you can be arrested for intercourse with a day-old plaster dummy. Well some people might think that pretty perverted, but Andrew and I are hardly likely to think so given that it's the only reason we exist at all." A new misgiving occurred to me, and I actually managed to beat Anthony to it this time. "It's just possible that he would have preferred not to exist at all" Anthony looked me straight in the eye. What spread slowly across his face was indignation, and when he spoke it was the quiet condemnation of a hundred and thirty year old. "How dare you!", he said quietly and distinctly. "Do you imagine, in your arrogance that you are the god who created Andrew? Would you like to give me the recipe? I am the product of sex between my mother and a man I never knew. Andrew is the product of a little blind experimentation with things you cannot even begin to understand; but we are both the creation, and therefore the children, of the same God who created you. God does not experiment with things he doesn't understand, and you have no right to question his motives in creating you, me or anyone or anything else." I was suitably chastised and saw with a sudden clarity what, no doubt, Anthony had seen all along: the source of my difficulty. I had always regarded sex for enjoyment as a sin. So it was, in the normal course of events. These were not normal events. These were circumstances which had been created for some purpose we couldn't even guess at. Ordinary ethics were not meant to apply. I rose and stepped over to the bedroom door. Silently I waited while Anthony joined me. We quietly opened the door and went in. Andrew - I ought to have objected to Anthony naming him without consulting me but he probably knew something I didn't - was no longer asleep, but sat up in bed. We sat either side of him and put our arms around him. He smiled and lay back so we lay either side of him and cuddled. I was lying next to twin naked boys and the view from where I lay was stunning. "Jonah!" "Hmm?" "I need to talk to Andrew. It's the only way he'll learn to talk. Can you go down and do our feet. He'll like that. I know I do" I got up, gently kissed the two identical willies, and lay at the bottom of the bed. Andrew's feet were even more alluring than Anthony's. The colouring in the plaster was fresher so the live boy had pinker soles and toes. I cuddled both boys' feet and began licking all four soles. Moving to Andrew's left foot I sucked on his little toe. After a while I let the cute little toe slip from my mouth - only to have Andrew insert the next toe. Crumbs! he picked that up quickly. I moved through all Andrew's toes and moved on to Anthony's. The slight salty taste was there on both boys' toes although there could be no possible reson for it. As I sucked on Anthony's toes Andrew wriggled down so that he could plant his lovely soft soles on my face. He began wriggling his toes to gently massage my temples. Somebody had started licking and sucking on my own feet. No. Not "somebody". Both boys were sucking away at my toes. Boy was I hard. I had to jack myself off ( the boys were clearly doing each other). I came in less than five minutes: I was asleep in less than ten.
The alarm clock woke me for work at seven. Two dummies lay intertwined on my bed. I smiled. Life would be better for Anthony from now on. I dressed quickly and left the room. "See you later boys."