Franenstein's Wet Dream

'Sup, strumpets? Welcome to part 5 of my

Frankenstein's Awakening

Series!! I hope that everyone [minus the person who gave me a 2-star rating] is having a fantastic week!

[Just kidding, you too buddy.]

After hammering out the first 4 chapters, I wanted to let the story breathe for a while - but I just couldn't stop thinking about all of the juicy, intimate moments I have rattling about in my horny brain for future Adam. This chapter is the first step into our Franky Boy's vibrant, erotic future and I hope that y'all like it!

(This chapter also draws direct inspiration from my first-ever gay thoughts back in high school... and hoooo boy, what a big soft mess I was.)

Context note, for those of you just tuning in: At the very end of Part 4, Frankenstein's 'monster' was finally given a name. His name is Adam.

And once again, ‼️CONTENT WARNING‼️ for cis-centric language and heteronormativity, as were commonly preached in the literature of the time.

💕 Love, Your Local Transmasc Horndog 💕

------------------------------------------------------------

I was laying in bed, examining a wild pansy flower beneath the warm glow of sunset. At just the right angle, the light would shine through the thin petals and reveal the unimaginably delicate veins within.

This flower had been flattened, folded within a parchment and placed gently into my gloved hand. A keepsake from my very first venture into society, given to me by a young gentleman I had met earlier that day.

Fred.

Fredrich Hirschfeld.

I mouthed his name, bringing the pansy down to my nose for a smell.

Our meeting was fleeting, but everything about Fredrich felt good inside of my head.

Small spectacles perched atop the bold curve of his nose. The high, sure lilt of his voice. The way that his hair glowed reddish wherever the sun touched it.

I wondered how Fred's hair smelled.

The warm tingle in my loins from earlier was beginning to return, but before I could touch myself I was called down to dinner.

---

The Doctor and his laboratory assistant (Mr. Brückner) were seated across from each other, a bowl of colorful fruits from today's voyage resting between them. As I approached the table the Doctor broke into a glowing grin and stood, raising his goblet ceremoniously in my direction.

"Our brave adventurer has come to join us! Here, here!"

Katrina emerged from the kitchen to join the men in their applause, painting my cheeks a soft red. I sat as Katrina poured a steaming ribbon of tea into my goblet, departing to the kitchen with a quiet, "You did wonderfully today!" and a reassuring pat on my shoulder.

It was all so much, but I couldn't help but to smile back.

"Thank you, everyone... it was a wonderful day indeed."

We ate our dinner enthusiastically, occasionally punctuating the soft night air with quips about the day.

As we finished, the Doctor turned towards me with another glowing smile.

"So,

Adam.

Do you have any thoughts about your name?"

"It came as such a surprise to me, and in the heat of the moment... I had not realized that I had no name, until I was asked," I said.

The Doctor's smile faltered.

"I admit that the name had been on my mind for a while, as a possibility. Although it is your name, and you have every right to reconsider it or change it. Seeing as you had no choice in your creation, it is more than fair now that you have a say in this part of yourself."

I had a choice? I could choose my own name...?

There were so many people that I could be.

But something about the sound of the word

Adam

felt so warm, so utterly right. I could not pinpoint why exactly, but I wanted to keep it. It felt like mine.

"I think that I like it," I said, returning the smile.

---

Dinner couldn't have ended soon enough, as I had been desperately aching and tingling for release ever since the afternoon at the haberdashery. I practically ran up to my bedroom, shutting the door with a stealthy

click.

I did not need a book to prepare me tonight. My prick was already stiffening as I moved to my bed, hastily laying down and drawing the covers up to my chin. (Ever since I had been interrupted by the Doctor several days ago, I had become wary of what one might see if they opened my door suddenly to check on me.)

My eyes closed and my breath escaped in a gentle hiss as my hand finally found the throbbing length of my prick. Tingles of electricity bloomed under my fingertips.

I paused to grab my scar oil, rubbing a few drops warmly between my hands.

Heart hammering, I returned to my body. As my thumb began to work circles around the sensitive tip of my prick, my back arched.

Painfully sensitive after several days of unsatisfied urges, I stifled a whimper as my breath began to pick up. My hand moved to wrap around my length and I began a slow, teasing stroke.

I saw Frederich's swirling brown eyes as his hand reached out to stroke my cheek.

My eyes shot open.

What was that? What was

that?

My hand stopped moving as I scrutinized the dark ceiling of my bedroom, sweat dripping down into my pillow.

There had been no mention whatsoever of men who experienced erotic attraction towards other men in any of the books the Doctor had given me.

If sex and desire existed to create new life, then why would a man lust after another man? Surely, I reasoned, such a union could not be biologically feasible.

Men's bodies were not meant to satisfy the bodies of other men!

...Right?

.

I realized, suddenly, that no book had explicitly said that they

could not.

.

I took a deep breath as my oiled hand returned to my prick.

I resumed stroking, and the sudden return of friction caused my legs to twitch.

Behind the blackness of my closed eyes, Fred was holding my prick in his hand. He turned to look at me as his hand worked in slow, steady, hot pumps.

"Do you like this?" he whispered to me.

My mouth opened and I shuddered breathlessly, nodding softly into the darkness.

"Yes." I said aloud.

Fred's rhythm on my prick quickened slightly.

"Does this feel good?" he whispered.

Tears prickled at the corners of my eyes as a rumbling hum began to escape my lips.

Ahnn...

Hah,

Hnhhn.

Ahh... hah!

My own hand, under the guise of Fred's, was now making an obscene wet thumping sound against my abdomen with every stroke. I slowed briefly to rub my thumb again over my silky tip, and a bolt of electricity seared all the way down to my feet. My bollocks were growing heavier, clenching full of molten need.

Every atom of my being felt tight, like a spring under too much pressure.

Without disrupting the hungry speed of his hand, Fred leaned down and placed a feather-soft kiss upon my abdomen.

I was undone. Utterly undone.

Molten magma rose up from my bollocks and into my shaft. With a final few feral pumps, I saw blinding white.

My body curled in on itself, Fred's hand feverishly pumping my prick as it emptied itself again and again and again. My stomach clenched and my breath escaped in loud, ragged gasps as the tension bled out of me - throbbing and hot and hungry.

I stayed in this fetal position as my breaths slowed, and I imagined Fred moving to lay beside me. He looked gently - perhaps, even lovingly - at my naked, scarred body.

My heavy eyes closed once more, and I drifted gently into slumber.

-------

I am back in the haberdashery, standing near the colorful shelf of pocket squares and kerchiefs. There are people ambling about the shop, but through the bustle and din of the crowd my eyes find only you. You're at the register writing something down while a customer asks you a question.

I don't want to disrupt your work, so I continue to study the treasure trove of colors and textures before me.

After a while I hear the shop bell ring, and suddenly realize that I am alone.

I feel hands on my hips, and the heat of your chest pressing into my back from behind. I exhale slowly as your hands begin to explore my body, fingers slowly tracing across my belly and chest. Enraptured in lust, my head falls back - and to my surprise, our height difference has dissolved. My head rests comfortably upon your shoulder and as your hot breath tickles my ear.

I no longer feel huge and cumbersome, like a massive ancient tree that somehow grew within the confines of an orchard.

I feel small and soft within my masculinity. I feel vulnerably held. Protected.

Your warm hands travel down to the band of my breeches and slip beneath the fabric, coming to rest softly on my prick. You begin to stroke me and I gasp sharply.

I feel a hot hardness rubbing up against my buttocks, and I know that it must be your erection. Realizing that my body did this to you makes me even harder.

I begin thrusting my hips up into the rhythm of your strokes, and a whine escapes my lips.

"It sounds like you need this."

I do need it. I have never needed anything more in my entire short life.

Your fingers travel up to trace lightly over the tip of my prick, and when I cry out in ecstasy you continue your movement there. Then you start pumping me fast, rough.

Your left hand is on my chest, anchoring me to you as if I could fall at any moment.

And I am, I am falling apart. I am weak at the knees.

Your lips start tracing hot kisses down my neck, and I feel as though my heart might explode right out of my chest.

I do not know how my brain knows this ritual of seduction. I have never read of it in any book, and yet I can feel it. It feels real. Feels like a memory.

The rhythm of your hand is so deliciously relentless on my throbbing prick.

Your other hand leaves my chest and moves down to find my bollocks, cupping and squeezing them gently.

Oh! Ohh!!

You gently bite my neck, and I howl out loud in ragged desperation.

I pump my molten cum into your hands, my hips still bucking as you stroke my prick for every last drop of its release.

As my breathing begins to slow down,

You turn me around,

you look into my eyes,

and you

kiss me.

And I cannot breathe.

I cannot breathe.

I-

----------

I lifted my face and gasped for air - with my face mashed into my pillow, I hadn't been breathing.

Twisting onto my back, I tried to recall every second of the heavenly visions that I had just seen. There were things in that dream, things that I had never read about and never even thought of.

Holding me from behind, squeezing my bollocks. Kissing my neck. Biting me.

I felt something cold and wet against my back and sat up, realizing that my belly was also wet with it.

I traced a finger through the cold and realized that It was cum.

I had cum in my sleep, from a

dream.

I had come from a dream of

Fredrich.

....Oh.

Oh, no.