Female Clone Trooper Novels & Stories

A double-reinforced vault with retinal scan access. As Chaewon stepped forward. The scanner lit green, access granted and the doors opened. And there she was, the clone. Standing in the center of the room, wearing Chaewon’s wedding gown. The exact same one. “Hello, Chaewon,” she said softly. “I’ve been waiting.” Han raised his gun. The clone didn’t move. Jian stepped in front of Chaewon. “Kang. Where is he?” “He’s already moved,” the clone said. “He doesn’t need this facility anymore.”

She grabbed the wounded scientist by the throat and snapped his neck with a wet crack. Jeff shoved me behind him, rifle raised. Nolan backpedaled toward the console, his hand hovering over the emergency purge. The clone tilted her head, studying us with eerie focus. When she spoke, her voice was mine—but wrong, like a recording played backward. "Demi Perez. Original template." Then she lunged. Bullets didn’t stop her. Jeff’s rounds punched through her chest, but the wounds sealed instantly, the glowing veins knitting together like living circuitry. She backhanded him into a server rack hard enough to dent steel.

We found the cells first. Row after row of reinforced glass pods, each holding a body. Some twitching. Some silent. Some watching us. Clones. Failed, half-formed, and monstrous. Some still resembled me. Others looked like the early versions of Daemon—or something even darker. Like they'd never fully grown into human shape. Mutated. Lost. Aurora reached out and touched the glass of one pod. Inside, a woman—young, with eyes like mine. She blinked once. Slow. Mechanical.

Nomo shouted over his shoulder. But Pella didn't answer. She was backed into a corner of the control room, staring at a clone of herself that was standing in the doorway. The clone was perfectly healthy, its skin warm and brown, devoid of any Gray Rot. It was holding a hand out toward Pella, a look of profound, manufactured pity on its face. "Is this what you want, Pella? To be whole again?" the clone asked. "The Queen can give you back your life. You don't have to be a stone monument for a dying Sovereign."

Like something out of a nightmare. Each held a child. Sleeping. Growing. Not born. Manufactured. Sophia stopped breathing. “Oh my God,” she whispered. Monitors beeped. Vitals. Data. And names. Each pod had one. Aria‑02. Julian‑03. Aria‑03. Julian‑04. On and on. She didn’t clone us. She copied us. Tried to perfect us. My knees almost gave. Sophia knelt by one pod. Her fingers pressed against the glass. The little girl inside looked just like her.

That was Derek, another warrior Grayson had promoted just last month. His fists started to shake. "Exactly!" A female voice chimed in—Sarah from the communications team. "Once Stella recovers and comes back, she'll definitely figure out how to get our hunting grounds back. She's the pack's real strategist—what's Aria compared to that?" More voices joined in, each one stabbing deeper. "Aria's been nothing but trouble since day one. Always acting like she's better than everyone else." "Right? Just because she catches the Alpha's eye doesn't mean she's special. We were doing fine without her!"

Marked with medical dates, genetic overlays. The mimic’s DNA. Scanned. Cross-checked. And then, finally, a match. Not to Xavier. Not to me. To us She wasn’t just a rogue creation. She was a clone. Built from stolen blood extracted during my medical trial. The only Luna-compatible strand they’d ever isolated from a hybrid line. “She is a weapon,” Leif whispered. “But she’s yours.” Not a child. But worse. A twin. Younger. Twisted. And unleashed.

She just lowered her head, her hair falling like a curtain around her face. Which somehow infuriated me even more. Fine. If she wanted cruelty, I leaned closer, dropping my voice to a whisper dripping with venom. “Do you know what happens to women who refuse to cooperate? Do you know what the rogues do with them?” Charlotte’s shoulders stiffened. Perfect. “There’s a woman here,” I continued. “One of your precious pack members. She’s pregnant. Very pregnant.” Her head snapped up instantly, eyes wide with terror. I smirked.

After being humiliated and disowned by her own pack and family the 18-year-old Noella Cindy James, goes Rouge. After tumbling in the depths of the unwanted city, she begins to challenge life. Day after day, anger, hate, malice, eating her up, she becomes bloodthirsty for revenge.

Sephora's POV “Sequoia! No! What are you doing?" I stood, hidden by the cover of the green foliage, and watched her talking to a group of strange creatures that surrounded her. They were tall and muscular, nothing like any of our sisters. They had no breasts, and their hair was short, lacking silkiness, and didn't flow in the wind. They surrounded Sequoia and spoke to her. Her smile grew as she talked back to them. Their hard and chiseled facial features hid the evil they harboured in their hearts.