Have sex with yourself

You retreat back into your humble living quarters to try and hone your visage on a massive platinum-framed fullbody mirror.

Gleefully experimenting with your new power, you try adding and substracting limbs from yourself, turning yourself into various lavish furniture strewn around the palace and melting into a puddle of living goo. At one point you even remove your ears, tail, claws and fur and have a hearty laugh at the preposterous sexless wet blanket of a body staring back.

The transformations bring absolutely zero discomfort, and after a while of getting used to it, you start to even enjoy the feeling.

Sophie: "Hm. So I can have four arms no problem. Eight legs is a cinch, and giving myself abs on my back is a walk through the imperial park. But... I wonder if I can have two heads?"

Can the might of a mimic conquer the age-old philosophical hurdle about the sanctity and uniqueness of human mind? Do even you, as a rightful ruler of a whole planet, have the right to ram your needy key into this untainted question of m- oh, you've already done it.

Right-Sophie: "Haha, wicked! Can you talk?"

Left-Sophie: "Sure can. And don't worry, I'm pretty sure you got my personality spot-on, so there's no worries about me being evil either."

Right-Sophie: "Now let's try splitting up."

Left-Sophie: "Alright."

You, the two of you that is, get back into melty mode and each take a portion of your body with you. In no time at all the two halves are only connected by a narrow but persistent slither of gooey skin. Then, upon each of you straining to pull away, it snaps off with a *POP*, sending both of you careening into piles of silk pillows.

Now there are two of you. Another eternal philosophical question of whether to fight yourself or make love to yourself is presented. You however forego such ruminations at once, being likely the most notorious nymphomaniac on the planet.

Right-Sophie: "Let's fuck 'till we can't tell who's the original."

Left-Sophie: "You're on."

As a veteran of the arts, you've had sex in just about every form and position conceivable. Or so you thought. Despite your admirable natural flexibility, even you couldn't previously have coiled around your partner like a snake, or turn yourself inside-out to blanket your partner in a fullbody skinsuit.

Getting to fuck somebody who can reciporate with exactly as depraved acts is divine. You constantly shift in and out of being a single Sophie and two Sophies - your brains going wild from the pleasure every time the two connect again. You stretch out your heads to keep them connected despite being two separate Sophies, being partially able to feel the pleasure from both of them at once.

There's no way to tell whether this is masturbation or sex anymore. It's something much more. Something purely sexual that can't be defiled with a definition. It's like you are the fornication that you engage in, staining your priceless fabrics, sizzling through your two brains.

You've been edging for minutes now, but want to take things to their logical conclusion - you're vying to cleanly fry out your circutries with pleasure.

You start hammering out clone Sophies, creating an actual bundle of them, all still connected to a single humongous brain that you've actively hardwired for pure sex. Seeking out erogenous zones, utilizing tails in a phallic manner and producing cuddly cooing sounds are penultimate on the hierarchy of needs, right after fucking itself. Only a small slither of rational thought is left to inhabit your original brain to make sure you at least keep breathing throughout all of this.

The two dozen or so Sophies laboriously claw and wriggle themselves into messy orgasms. At their turn, each body unsteadies itself, deforming, melting and spazzing out into an outright glitchy appearance.

Even after cumming, melting and nearly evaporating, your extraneous copies retain their given instincts for lovemaking. The orgy-like soundscape makes a perfect backdrop for you momentarily sinking into a stain in your carpeted floor and mentally preparing yourself for the idea of having sex like this every day.

ENDING 41 -Cats are liquid-