Frankenswole- October 2018 (Patreon)

I am by birth a fox, and my family is one of purest pedigree. My ancestors had been councillors and minor officials, and my father had filled several public situations with honor and reputation. The Von Frankenstein line has long been called to be leaders of the community, but I was pulled in a different direction. My two loves became science, and the male form. 

The large male form. 

Where my sister studied philosophy and poetry, I studied the physical sciences, and the science of the physical. I did well in my schooling, and had earned myself a place at a prestigious university, and satisfied my hunger for knowledge, if not my thirst. Long had I desired to possess a powerful, muscular physique, but I had been cursed by my family line and spited by God to remain lean and lithe, always yearning for something I could not possess. I did, however, make a name for myself experimenting on my fellow students. Soon was it known that if one desired to increase their strength and virility, they need only visit Victor Von Frankenstein. 

However, this could not sate me forever. All who came to me had limits, physical and mental. The sons of lords only destined for a military officer’s career, or scholars with their own delusions of grandeur, whose bodies had far too many handicaps. Even worse, none had the respect for their new bodies or my work that it deserved. As soon as I finished training them, designing diets and exercise regimens, I could already see my work deteriorate after mere months as none had the discipline to maintain their strength after they left my tutelage.

What is this weakness of the mind, that allows men to neglect their own strength? Why does God curse us with this sloth and ignorance? We already must yield to entropy and the eventual grave, why must we yield to the decay we inflict on ourselves? These questions plagued me as I finished university, and began my practice. That was my own purgatory. Attempting to shore up the failing health of fat, middle class bureaucrats and shopkeepers, talking down hysterical housewives who think their latest boil is a sure sign of the plague; after a few years, I was ready to burst. I lived comfortably, that much was certain, but a brilliant mind often craves more than comfort. 

I was treating one patient for free. A part of a charitable effort on my part, but in truth, I wanted to be close to this one. He was a longshoreman that worked on the docks, and he was so grand. A bear that stood more than a head taller than me, arms thick as my waist, chest wide enough I could barely wrap myself around him. He had lost a leg in an accident, and it had been replaced with a wooden peg. Still, it gave him discomfort, which I was happy to assist him with, and get closer to thighs that could bend metal rods.

“A shame, doc, that ye can’t just build me a new one, eh?” He commented, after we had readjusted his peg.

“Pity indeed, but alas, I am no carpenter,” I replied.

“Nah, mate. I mean, build me a new leg, muscle and fur and all. I seen ye sew up worse’n mine, aye?” The bear chuckled, slapping me on the back, resting that strong arm on my shoulders, pulling me close to his broad chest. I gently encouraged him to be physically affectionate. “Brilliant as you are, Doc, ye could pro’lly build me a whole new body.”

Unwittingly, that one comment engermed an idea in my head. I was sleepless that night, even as I sought comfort in that bear’s wonderful arms. Well, I had to thank him somehow for that idea, no? I sold all I could in the following days, including my practice, and returned to my family’s seat; Castle Von Frankenstein. So long, I had seen people neglect their bodies, let the finest piece of art, the anthropomorphic body, go to waste, but no more. God himself may let what was meant to be perfect and immaculate wither away and fall to corruption, but I would not. I could see the flaws; I could see the faults in the design. I would do better, and I would do it bigger. I would build a better man, one whose strength would never wither. 

I began in earnest, filling the former observatory with equipment. Conductors, surgery implements, not unlike Prometheus, I would steal the fire of the heavens; lightning, to power my creation. Of course, I needed materials for this monumental project. I never thought I would be reduced to graverobbing, but no path to greatness is wide and easy to tread. It was all for naught, however; I could find no bodies fit enough, strong enough to fit my master plan. But then, fate intervened.

A terrible train crash occurred, not far from the castle, carrying all the contestants of a Mr. Europe competition. Apparently, the conductor had been distracted by a particularly impressive double bicep pose. As I had been invited to judge this particular competition, you can only imagine my shock when I found out. I mourned the loss of life and considerable talent, of course, but once those well-sculpted bodies had been laid to rest, it occurred to me that no one was really using those tons of muscle mass, were they? As the good book tells us, waste not, want not. Thirty inch biceps and fifty five inch chests don’t just grow on trees, after all.

It was a pity to dig up their graves after such a lovely service, but really, time was of the essence. My window of opportunity was growing smaller with each passing day, and really, just how often do twenty of the best bodybuilders in Europe all have the decency to drop dead at the same time?

It took weeks to embalm the bodies to ensure their integrity, picking through each one to pick the best body part for all. Best, in this context, naturally means “biggest.” I took the head of a proud and noble lion, a gorilla’s powerful arms, a wolf’s shapely legs, and a bull’s broad, mighty torso and… virility. Strange, where fate leads us; all my life I dreamt of bodybuilding myself, but never had I considered that I would be building a body.

I did not have to wait long for the fated night. A thunderstorm rolled in, and I hurried to ensure the conductors and lightning rods were all in place. My perfect creation was soon to be born; he looked so magnificent, sprawled on the table. The head was as perfect as I could manage, still with a luscious mane framing his face. I looked on him lovingly, as a father to a newborn son, and marvelled at his size and strength. However, something was nagging at the back of my mind, but I could not quite place it. A feeling of dissatisfaction, almost, but I counted it to my nerves. Before me now, still lifeless, the body was not quite as impressive as I thought it would be otherwise, but the measurements were just as I recorded. I turned on the conductors, but my eyes were drawn to my notes and measuring tape, which I had used on the creature’s various body parts. It was then, just as the long-awaited bolt of lightning struck the castle, that I came to a terrible realization. I had set out to build the best and the biggest, but mere thirty inch biceps were not the best. There were many who possessed a chest even greater than fifty five inches. In my haste to find suitable bodies, the truth seared in my mind:

He was not big enough.

It was too late; the lightning struck the creature, an explosion of electric currents that threw me to the ground, leaving a faint blue miasma and the smell of burnt fox- I had been struck on the tail, it would seem. Then, to my horror, I looked to the table…

...And I awoke. My creator, Victor Von Frankenstein, looked upon me with eyes of sheer terror and disgust as I sat up, seeing the waking world for the first time. I had no memory of those who made up my body, but all I knew is that the first words I heard in my existence was from my father, shouting in dismay.

“No. No! He’s not big enough! He’s not big enough!” He ran from the room in disgust. Hardly the most auspicious beginning to one’s life. I was left alone, abandoned by my creator. He fled the castle that night, terrified at what he had done. When I saw my reflection for the first time, I could barely comprehend my own form; I knew not any words. I had a handsome face, that of a lion, with a thick mane. The hair was matted, the fur’s colors faded, but my body, that was something I felt pride in from the beginning. I felt enormous energy rising up from my large chest, strength in my thickly roped arms and legs… but my father was right. There was room for more, much more. Already, I hungered, though I did not yet know what I hungered for. Dr. Frankenstein had left a full larder in his haste to escape, and so my immediate needs would be met. But then, I found the castle’s library, and I was determined to decipher the written word. The good doctor had stocked the shelves with books of science, the classics, of course, and exercise manuals. I learned the written word reading Darwin, Plato, and Archibald MacLaren’s Manual of Physical Exercise and Strength Training, Third Edition.

It was clear that my father had his own plans. I found a well-stocked gym, not so long after. Weights and barbells of every size, cable machines, benches, punching bags, and a strange, shiny piece of clothing that only seemed to cover my loins. The doctor had spared no expense. Clearly, he intended me to spend quite a bit of time here. The lightest weight I could find weighed fifty pounds, and they went up past a hundred. I had plenty of strength, but there is always stronger still. 

With the aid of the inestimable Archibald MacLaren, however, vague memories returned to me of exercising, working out. Lifting the weights, my body seemed to automatically know what to do; muscle memory, if you will. I began in earnest, enjoying that which they called a “pump.” Every part of my body, lion, wolf, bull, and gorilla, surged with adrenaline as I exercised my arms, my chest, my back, my legs. It was the greatest feeling I had ever felt, the feeling of honest work. I followed the exercise manuals to the letter, sleeping well, eating healthily, and exercising every day. In my naive younger days, I suppose I thought that perhaps by growing larger I could bring the doctor back. Only, after a while, I noticed I wasn’t getting any larger, or any stronger. I pushed myself to my breaking point every day, but nothing could make me grow. No progress was ever made. 

I was so distressed, I had to seek out my creator once more. Gathering what food I had left, I began my search for Dr. Frankenstein. I had read in his journals that his family had an estate in the mountains, and so I began my journey. The travelling was hard, and all those who saw me turned away in fear. At first, I thought it was because of my monstrous appearance. Did they, too, think I was too small? It was only later, of course, that I realized it was because I left without any clothes, save the shiny pair of trunks the Doctor had left me. It was of no matter, when I began to climb the mountain, I found the Frankenstein estate. I waited in the woods for my creator, and he came in the dead of night, clearing his mind in the rain. We spoke no words; lightning illuminated my eyes and form before I could speak, and the doctor saw me, and terror filled his soul.

“No! No! He’s even skinnier! Practically skin and bones!” the doctor screamed upon seeing me, then escaped back to the safety of his family home.

Granted, I had not eaten in several days, so I probably did look thinner. But to be rejected so, that was the true pain. Abandoned a second time, I escaped back into the woods, wondering if I could ever become swole. People everywhere were afraid at the very sight of me. Any attempts to join a local gymnasium ended in tragedy, but I would not be deterred; spurned by my creator, spurned by anthrokind, I would find a way to make myself strong.

I did not have to search for long. In the wilds I found a lonely hermit, a blind bat named Flex Laurence. Here was a man that showed me kindness; the first I had ever known. Unable to see my hideously skinny arms, he welcomed me into his home, feeding me from his table; all lean protein. Flex was a retired bodybuilder, one who had lost his sight in a freak accident involving a stage light and body oil. He kept his good nature, however, and his phenomenal body. It doesn’t take sight to lift weights, after all, but the countless jokes about “spotting” me did grow tiresome. 

The bat’s broad shoulders rolled, traps brushing at his cheeks while those large ears flicked. His chest was still sculpted solidly during his retirement, enough though his shirts seemed to ever be ill-fitting. Or perhaps that was more the issue for the bowling ball-sized biceps he possessed. For a species that had a host of jokes for hanging upside-down his legs certainly looked strong enough to manage doing so, meaty thighs forcing the chiropteran to waddle slightly when he walked. Soon, my new friend told me his story. Always a small child, he had stood more than a foot shorter than myself. Over his life, he worked hard to make himself even wider than the broad shoulders Dr. Frankenstein had given me, and had worked endlessly to build himself up, from ninety eight pounds soaking wet to three hundred pounds of muscle, ending forever the bullying and torment he suffered as a child. If anyone could make me strong, it would be Flex. 

“Don’t worry, my friend.” He flexed his arm, causing his bicep to surge in size as he figuratively and literally took me under his wing. “I’ve trained others before. We’ll get you as many gains as you could possibly want!”

Unfortunately, not even Flex’s peerless training could push me further. It seemed that my flesh, as impressive as it looked, could not grow stronger. I was, after all, built from dead, preserved bodies. When it dawned on me, I fell into further despair. Flex, however, was not ready to give up on me, though his methods did begin to become more unorthodox.

“I am unsure about this, Flex.” I told the bat one day, after he had dressed me in ill-fitting armor. Steel armor, specifically, and I had a feeling he was unaware of the large, ominous storm clouds rolling in.

“Oh, it’s an old training exercise, goes back ages. Greek warriors would race each other in full armor, and knights would jog for miles. You’re wearing weighted steel armor. If this doesn’t get you pumped, well…” He trailed off for a second, not exactly instilling confidence before patting me on the shoulder. “I’m sure we’ll think of something.” He then smacked my rear, in what I had been led to believe was a sign of camaraderie, and I began running, right into the storm.

To make a long story short, I got struck by lightning. It was painful. But the rush of energy… I felt something new, then. Something I had never felt before, as electricity surged through my body, making every hair stand on end. The very same power that had brought me to life was suddenly filling me with energy again, and my body was putting it to good use. I felt the armor tighten around me, and it took me a moment to realize that it wasn’t the armor getting smaller, but it was me getting bigger. With each labored breath, my chest expanded out, but did not retreat. Leather straps were rendered taut as my arms thickened, the stitching that held me together strained as my body spread out, bits of the armor bursting off to make way for my rippling thighs, back spreading out like Flex’s wings. I could barely believe it as I lumbered back to the bat. It took me a moment to collect my feelings, but then, an idea came to mind as I flexed my arm, my newly engorged bicep swelling as the last bits of armor fell away.

“I believe it’s time I headed back home, Flex. Thank you for all you’ve done. But first, I need to write a letter.”

My hand trembled as I read the letter. The monster had somehow broken into my family’s country estate. Judging by how the window had been splintered at the frame, he was clearly compensating. He wasn’t that big, much to my disappointment. Still, the letter made his intentions clear.

“Father,

It is time we had a discussion. Return to Castle Frankenstein, and we will discuss my future. You have left me alone and unloved in this world. It is time you rectify this situation. If you do not come to me, I will have to come to you, and all will know your shame.”

That, I could not allow. He was still so small! The shame of it- no, no one could know the extent of this monstrosity. My hand was forced; I had to return to the castle. I left a letter with my family, should the monster try to take revenge, but I was not too concerned. It’s not as if he was that strong. Still, some precaution was not unwarranted, and I brought my father’s old blunderbuss with me. It was a dark and stormy night when I returned to the place of my great failure, and a storm was beginning to brew. My conductors were still in place, and lightning crackled across the sky. The castle itself was illuminated by lights in the windows. What was the devil planning?

I hesitated, but as I moved into the castle, the lights were stricken one by one as I passed by, casting me in shadow. As I approached the hallway leading to my laboratory, a presence filled the corridor, with the creature’s bright, glowing eyes.

“You came.”

It couldn’t be. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but this was considerably bigger than my creature. “I did.”

He gestured to the yawning entry to my laboratory. “Come then, see what’s become of your experiments, father.”

The hulking mass lumbered ahead of me. The laboratory was unlit, with only the storm raging above our heads, the lead roof open as rain poured down. The hum of electric machinery, the sparks and shocks, buzzed in my ears, and then I saw him, my creature, attach the same wires to his body that brought him to life. 

“What… what are you doing?”

The creature smirked. “Completing your work. You thought I wasn’t big enough, well. What about now?”

A terrible bolt of lightning, like the wrath of God, came down, illuminating the entire castle, and then I saw him. The creature, my creature, roared in ecstasy, his entire, titanic form surging in size like I could not believe. His arms rippled, biceps alone as big as my waist. He now towered over me, filling the space with huge swells of glorious muscle, more than I had ever seen on any one person. His chest charged past his muzzle, his immense mass supported on legs like pillars, marble-like muscle tensed as he continued to grow. The stitching between his limbs was holding together remarkably well, and then, finally, the growth abated, rolling thunder passing overhead. This giant, gloriously huge creation of mine took a few lumbering steps, cracking the stone underneath. His lupine legs rolled off one another, tear-drop shaped masses of muscle forming thighs larger than I could reach around. His bovine torso rippled with each movement, with engorged flanks propping up arms bigger than most men. And that lion’s face, now smirking down at me, crowned a mountain range of shoulder muscle. He grabbed me, wedging me between his sprawling chest and boulder-like arm.

“Now, Dr. Frankenstein, we will talk about your next experiment. Because I think this one,” he paused, flexing his arm until his knuckles dug into his tensed bicep. “Was an unmitigated success.”