Chad repeated with growing anger, "Your jockstrap? I don't think so, Jeffy!"
Wham!
Chad's right fist slammed into Jeff's face. Jeff flew backwards into the wall, then lay unconscious sprawled on his foyer floor.
Chad's arm felt weak, it was blanched of its normal tan, it hung oddly from his shoulder like a noodle, or a leg strap for a jockstrap. Chad gasped.
The new Chad grabbed the real Chad and pulled him inside Jeff's house, and slammed the door.
"Come on, you aren't becoming Jeff's jockstrap. Jeff stole your jockstrap months ago, and has been wearing me ever since."
"You're my jockstrap?" Chad asked weakly.
His mind was getting fuzzy.
"Well, I was your jockstrap. Now I'm Chad, and you're becoming my jockstrap."
"Oh, crap," the real Chad said weakly as he slumped in the new Chad's strong muscular arms.
The new Chad slung the cottony real Chad over his shoulder like he was a big ragdoll, and carried him back to Jeff's room.
"I cannot use the Chronivac, but while you have fingers, you can. And Master Jeff will be out for at least a few minutes. So we can improve a few things before he comes to..."
"Damn, I have a fine ass!" Chad murmured as he hung over his clone's back looking down.
"The better to fuck it!" New Chad said.
"Wait I'm a top! I'm not gay!" Real Chad protested.
"Well, the faster you type what I tell you to type, the better your odds are that I'll let you fuck yourself - er, me," said New Chad as he plopped the ragdoll cloth man into Jeff's desk chair in front of the Chronivac.