Fuckenstein; or, The Modern Eros

But I hadn't planned on running an experiment. This is an unforeseen necessity for my safety. What if those fear-mongering journalists linking pornography to violence were right, and the creature's education instilled a propensity for violence and not, as I hoped, a cataloged knowledge of carnal acts? Iggy is either a very lucky or a very unfortunate test subject.

From the diary of Victoria Franken, October 31

It is just past two in the morning. Though these past few days have left me entirely drained and my eyes can barely stay open, I have to complete this entry while the memory is still seared in my mind's eye.

The last time I saw Adam, he was in the doorway of my home, his eyes were practically on fire with hatred. Oh, I'm getting ahead of myself. On the night of the test, just as Iggy was about to meet with the creature for the first time, I realized that I had neglected to think of a fake name for her to address her "client" by, so in a panic, I christened him: Adam. Considering it was a spur-of-the-moment decision, I think it suits him well.

I only had time to grab a few things as I ran from him. I have no idea what's happened to Iggy. Probably fucked to death by that crazed monster. I'd probably feel worse if I weren't so overwhelmed by disappointment. The experiment was a complete disaster, and now...

I'm getting ahead of myself again. Start from the beginning Vickie:

"Great timing, eleven on the dot."

"Can't keep my customers waiting," Iggy chirped enthusiastically.

"Blue? I almost didn't recognize you. You look witchy." She was always changing her hair and she always looked beautiful. What I wouldn't give for her confidence, her looks, and soon, her intimate relations. "Why don't you use wigs? Seems cheaper and you can always change on the fly."

She grabbed a tuft of hair and tugged. "This won't come off as easily."

"Of course. I guess I didn't consider hair pulling to be an occupational hazard."

Iggy giggled. I don't know why I didn't have more empathy for Iggy. I had spent the last few weeks giving sexual favors in exchange for the parts I wanted to create Adam. She had been doing the same thing for years, albeit with more financial success. When I first hired her, she charged me half her usual rate due to how pathetic and nervous I was. She eventually gave me all my money back when I chickened out. She spent the rest of the night holding me and comforting me by telling me stories of men who couldn't get it up, couldn't keep it up, or went soft inside her. It made me feel better then. Now, it made me feel worse about what was coming next.

I offered her a cup of tea, as a good host should. I considered slipping her some Rohypnol. What was the point? There was no way she could overpower Adam, and besides, I needed her visceral, unmuted reactions to gauge Adam's strength so that when it came to be my turn, I knew what to expect.

When Iggy first entered Adam's room, he was fixated by something outside his window, his face pressed up against the bars. Iggy seemed offended at first, after all, she had put forth the effort into looking absolutely stunning for him. The tight black dress into which she poured herself gripped her undulating curves. Her pert breasts, which seemed to defy gravity, bulged through the sheer fabric making it appear almost translucent. When we had been talking earlier, I caught my eyeline drooping to her chest, occasionally catching the slightest hint of the silhouette of her nipples. But Adam's eyes were elsewhere. Whatever occupied his gaze could not have been nearly as transfixing as Iggy's barely clad chest.

Iggy approached the distracted Adam warily. I silently slid the deadbolt shut and retreated to my office to watch the experiment from a computer monitor. Iggy appeared taken aback by a combination of his massive frame, his inattentiveness, and his stark nudity. It took a long time to find a handsome wardrobe that could suit that hulking stature, but he disregarded the neatly folded clothes I set out for him just as he did Iggy. I worried briefly that his heart failed under the strain of pumping blood through his massive body. Just as I began to get up to tell Iggy that she should go home, she spoke to him:

"Hi there," Iggy's gentle, slightly nervous voice nudged Adam slightly, "Vickie told me you were a bit shy."

No response.

"That's alright, I'll take care of you, hon." Adam's fixation finally fell away from the window and he slowly turned towards Iggy. The moonlight from the window highlighted his rippling muscles but did not reveal any of the gruesome stitching or translucent skin that might have sent her screaming from my home. In the pale moonlight, he resembled an ancient Greek statue. Iggy eyed him up and down, her pupils occasionally giving their attention to the mass dangling between his legs. Yes, keep your eyes on the prize, I thought.

"Vickie already paid me, you don't need to do anything but relax, big boy." Iggy looked around the room. No mattress. I had to throw the old one out after it had become too soaked through with blood during the construction. The only piece of furniture was a high-backed wooden chair. The remains of the black leather belts used to hold him in place lay scattered on the floor. Iggy timorously stepped toward Adam. His gaze fell to the floor and followed the light clicking of her shining black stilettos. She held her hand out toward him, reached out, and grabbed one of his thick fingers. "Come with me," she smiled, almost winking at him.

Adam hesitated at first. When Iggly gently tugged at his finger, he vacantly followed her to the chair and sat down in it without any complaint. I was confused at his lack of energy, he acted as though he was dead on his feet, which, in retrospect, I suppose that he was. But where was the energy I saw when he snapped to life and broke free of his restraints? I didn't wish violence on Iggy, but any passion would be preferable to this shambling, confused dope.

With her client seated comfortably in front of her, Iggy began looking through her phone. A bassy R&B song starts to play, and Iggy shimmied slightly, swaying her soft, round hips from side to side. Adam's gaze (and my own) followed her movements carefully. Her hypnotic dancing didn't arouse Adam's attention, but I felt a slight gushing between my legs.

Entertaining as Iggy was, the point of this experiment was to test Adam's prowess, and if Iggy couldn't get him to perform, no one would.

Iggy, unbothered by Adam's apparent indifference, turned around and hiked up her dress, revealing her bare ass to Adam. There was a barely perceptible twitch in his finger, as though he wanted to act but some invisible force smothered the urge. Iggy must have noticed it too - she hiked up her dress a little further, letting Adam enjoy the full view. Slowly, her hips continued undulating toward him, teasing and rubbing herself along the length of his cock.

An unvoiced groan rumbled in Adam's chest. "I was beginning to think you didn't like me," Iggy cooed. She spun around and began to peel herself out of her clothes. As she stepped out of her dress, her eyes fell to Adam's lap once again, and once again, was greeted by a turgid, flaccid member.

The wince on her face told me that Iggy's patience was running thin. I had to think of some way to instruct Adam. He didn't appear to be responding to vocal cues from Iggy. Why had I spent so much time downloading all that research into Adam's brain if he wasn't going to utilize it?

And then an idea sparked. There was a TV in the room where I would play videos for Adam in tandem with the direct upload to his brain. I opened up PornHub on my phone and streamed the first video I could find.

The TV startled Iggy. Adam's eyes drifted over to the screen, away from the stark naked woman standing only in her gleaming black stilettos. The video I chose showed a dark-haired girl sitting on the edge of a bed. Kneeling between her legs was a large, bald man delicate kissing the inside of her thighs. He planted a trail of tiny kisses up the inside of her leg before kneading her swollen lips with his tongue.

Something lit up in Adam's face, the look of familiarity behind his eyes. He leaned forward in his chair and studied the image on the screen. Finally making the connection, his eyes darted over to Iggy, who turned around to meet his now burning gaze.

"I wouldn't mind being in her pos-" The movement was sudden and violent. Adam pinned Iggy to the ground, his massive hands belted around her waist. His black lips pulled into a demonic smile as the purple, serpentine tongue lolled out of his mouth.

Iggy was stunned, but she didn't appear to be hurt. She glared angrily at Adam and balled a hand into a fist, but thought better of it. "Take it easy, will ya? Use your words." She scolded him. He didn't regard the insult. The language center of the brain must have deteriorated entirely. That, or his mind was elsewhere.

The tongue, seemingly with a mind all its own, slithered, teasingly, around Iggy's belly button. She giggled despite her frustration. "Close, but wrong hole." She reached down and spread her hairless lips for Adam. He looked up at her, looked at the TV, then back at her, all the while his tongue lolled stupidly from his slack jaw like a confused puppy. Saintlike Iggy touched her hand to the top of his head and guided it lower. Adam's tongue snapped back to life and snaked its way between her legs.

Iggy let a sharp gasp escape as the tentacle wriggled its way inside her. It did not reciprocate Iggy's patience. Without foreplay or teasing, it bullied its way into her, sending ripples of shock and pleasure throughout her entire body. Adam locked his massive arms around her thighs, though escape was the last thing on Iggy's mind. At least for the time being.

"For someone who doesn't talk much, you've sure got a talent for using that tongue." Iggy managed to gasp between throes of pleasure.

As much as I hated to disrupt Iggy's ecstasy, I needed to test Adam's ability. I cast a new video onto the screen. It was a slower-paced, more intimate scene. Adam looked up from his meal, much to Iggy's extreme displeasure. He only glanced at the screen for a moment before something appeared to click behind his eyes. Almost instantly, he sprang to his feet, effortlessly lifting Iggy into the air as her limbs, too relaxed to resist, flailed helplessly.

For the first time, Adam's full erect power was revealed. A limb in its own right, it caught the moonlight in a way that accentuated the throbbing veins. Or was the seam of the healed stitching? It reached out toward me, rigid and firm and angry. It pointed, as though accusing, or demanding, that I serve it. Worship it—a totem of sex. More than ever, I wanted to kneel at his altar, not observe from behind a screen.

Iggy, recovering from her pleasure-induced stupor, furrowed her brow when she noticed how large he was at full mast. Before she could protest or voice any concern about what was about to happen, Adam shifted his weight back and dropped her onto the first eight inches of his cock.

Iggy's scream barely masked the wet sound of organs shifting other organs. For a moment, I worried about the internal damage that might have been caused by such an impact. As much as I wanted to switch places with her at that very moment, I also wanted to survive my encounter. Though she has a slightly slimmer waist, Iggy is roughly about my height and build, and if she couldn't walk away from this, neither would I.

Once she had recovered from the initial shock, Iggy launched a well-manicured flurry of nails and fists and curses against the oak before her. Adam, completely unbothered by Iggy's flailing, slowly began to slide her off his branch. She groaned. It was too much for her to handle. She placed her hands on his chest and attempted to push herself off, but she was powerless in his iron grip. Then, just as the head began to emerge, his iron fingers tightened their grip on Iggy's soft, now bruised hips, and slammed her back down to the hilt.

This violent display continued until Iggy's fierce resistance had been battered down to a limp, whispered moan. I was so hypnotized by the rhythmic brutality that I nearly forgot I could switch off the TV at any time. Granting her mercy, I skipped the video forward to the climax. Adam reacted in kind. He went to his knees and let Iggy slide loosely to the floor where she lay like a roughly discarded doll. She breathed heavily, and I was relieved that she hadn't been fucked into an early grave.

"Puh... please," Iggy struggled to catch her breath. "Please. You're hurting me."

Adam wasn't listening. He vigorously jerked his cock over Iggy's crumpled body. His breathing began to grow increasingly labored as he neared climax. A creaky groan rumbled in Adam's throat as he painted Iggy from her belly button to her neck. Iggy remained motionless as the thick, hot waves washed over her.

Adam didn't display the typical postcoital sluggishness to which Iggy and I had become so tragically accustomed. He stood up without the slightest hint of fatigue, completely erect and ready for his next task as he looked toward the screen.

Iggy looked so helpless and defeated. Could I put her through another round with Adam? All she had done was agree to do a favor for me. A favor that cost me five hundred dollars, but a favor nonetheless. I felt a pang of guilt for using her as a guinea pig. She had been used so often by so many people who didn't deserve her kindness, people who could afford to buy and sell her. And now, I was taking part in the same reprehensible cycle of abuse.

Once I had finished eulogizing her, I realized that Iggy's sacrifice would be for a good cause, plus, twelve lives had already been spent in the name of this beautiful abomination so what would another one matter? Knowing the boundaries of Adam's strength would help protect my own life and he needed me. Twelve souls shared that body now. He is something new, and he needs me to protect him.

Once again, the screen ignited with another video for Adam to ape. The moment he recognized the video, he turned his attention back to Iggy who was beginning to make her way towards the door, her crumpled black dress balled up in her hand. Adam sprang at her and in an instant had her pinned, face-down, to the floor.

"Please," Iggy wept, "don't hurt me. I'll give you your money back I just can't do this anymore." I stifled the pang I felt in my chest. She was a stupid girl playing stupid games and now she was paying the price for it. I had to pay the same price over the last few weeks. We all pay for our greed. Sorry, Iggy.

Adam used his knees to spread Iggy's legs apart and began to insert himself into her once more. Iggy began to scream, but a thick hand clamped her mouth shut. She bit down hard on his middle finger, but Adam gave no sign of pain. That same finger had once belonged to a bouncer who tried to force it up my asshole in a bathroom stall at the club he worked at. I felt a swelling of vicarious revenge as the blood dribbled down her lip.

Adam's massive frame completely eclipsed Iggy. All I could make out was her face, her polished black heels, and her free arm as it desperately clawed at the hand over her mouth. The angle allowed me an opportunity to appreciate the dimples and muscles on his back which were highlighted attractively by the moonlight. Even his butt seemed powerful. A callipygian, which was a fancy Greek word I learned back in college. It was usually used to describe a marble statue with an attractive ass. It was firm, yet had a heaviness to it which gave it a large quality that seemed inhuman.

The rhythmic thrusts were far more tender than the vicious skewering only a few minutes earlier. Iggy's pathetic whimpering rang clearly through the speakers. Despite the gentle pace, Iggy was still agonizing over the sheer girth tearing its way through her. Tiny feet kicked out from under that Herculean physique in a weak attempt to escape. Even if she was able to crawl her way out from under that mountain, the door was deadbolted shut. She would remain in that room for as long as I needed to fine-tune my creation.

Satisfied with the data gathered, I shut off the screen for the night. Adam dismounted Iggy and directed his full attention to the blank screen. Iggy lay motionless on the ground. Her cheek pressed against the ground, her limbs spread like a starfish, face completely devoid of emotion. Her breathing was light. Good. I needed her to run a few more tests tomorrow, though if there was any inkling of the mortician inside Adam, he might still find a use for a dead girl.

"Vickie..." a weak crackle sparked from the speakers, "Vickie, please help." I waited to feel the pang of guilt. Nothing came. I turned off the speaker and went to bed.