Explaining the clones

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Note that the contents are purely fiction, posted purely for entertainment purposes. I am in no way related to Clay Aiken except as his Claymate, addict and fan, nor am I in any way related to his recording label or his people. ************ Clones are an entertaining and imaginative manifestation that explains away why our man Clay looks slightly different with each appearance while allowing an addict to keep him for herself. The clones vary, depending on the addict doing the cloning.Each clone harbours personalised weapons of mass seduction, specific to each particular clone, in addition to using conventional seduction.Each addict has a different excuse as to how the clones came into existence. And I decided to add my own to the list of increasingly wild excuses we've concocted to explain away some five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred clones (or more). ************ I reluctantly lifted my eyes as the final notes of This is the Night died away, distracted.Chasing that elusive sense that the song was different, I wiped sleep from my eyes, slowly turned over onto my side, sitting up, before I realised I didn't recognise my surroundings.I stood up, searching out the nearest dose of caffine.Clay Aiken handed me a mug of tea.I smiled and drained the entire cup, before I froze. Clay Aiken?! Absently gazing into his gaze, the sense intensified.He was different.I frowned, the sensation intensifying and clarifying.Clay Aiken, but not Clay Aiken.I returned my mind to the situation at hand, and nearly stopped breathing. That invitation in his eyes (6d) drove coherence from every thought.The warning thrumming against my mind, I tear my gaze from his, to see Clay Aiken reflected multiple times. The searing warning told me otherwise.Each person might look like Clay Aiken, but none were Clay Aiken.I frowned, and turned to the door outlined beyond, and tried it.Locked. Not that I would have expected otherwise.I shoved my hand through my unbound hair, and turned back to the reflection, ignoring the presence he had (WMS 16), and concentrated on the sensation prevading my mind, trying to determine the nature of these reflections.The feel of him was very like... A magical constuct.