Frankengeld Pt 12

Previously in Frankengeld. A previous patient, Herr Weil, the hypochondriac has returned with an interesting tale of the effect of Doctor Damion's special prescription. And Madam Schwartz, the owner of the Ruby palace, a whore house, has attended because she feels a little unstable. In treating Madam Schwartz, and her alter-ego Mr Hyde, Damion has accidentally swallowed a couple of drops of her transforming elixir, with immediate results.

Now read on...

12th June, in the year 1784, approaching lunchtime.

Neither Una or Yani looked convinced by my suggestion that my new breasts would somehow 'resolve' themselves. Yani stood there with his mouth wide open, as if he wanted to look away but couldn't. His free hand, the one that wasn't measuring Una's breast, strayed to his crotch.

"Master Damion," said Una. "I am jealous... and that is something I never thought I would say about your body."

She stepped over to me.

"May I touch them?" she asked.

I recoiled in horror, but then thought better of it seeing the look of hurt on her face.

"I have touched yours," I admitted. "I suppose you should be allowed to return the gesture. Just do it quickly. And Yani..."

The lad, his mouth still open, nodded.

"For goodness sake," I continued. "Do not open the door to a patient whilst Una is doing this!"

Una moved around in front of me and gently stroked and massaged my breasts. I was pleasantly surprised by the feeling, especially when her fingers passed over my nipples. She pulled away and a little sigh of disappointment involuntarily passed my lips, and - I think - hers too.

"They feel so real," was her only comment.

"Of course they're real," I replied, annoyed. "They are not made of bread. Or did you think I took them from somebody, and sewed them onto my chest?"

My mind travelled to Victor's laboratory, was he at this moment sewing breasts onto some corpse to make a woman? I felt obliged to explain, saying, "I swallowed a couple of drops of the medicine intended for Madam Schwartz, and this happened."

To emphasise the truth of this statement I cupped my hands under my new breasts and pushed them up and slightly together. Una giggled and, before I could do anything, bent and kissed both my nipples. The sensation was like getting a shock of static electric from one of those new Wimshurst machines.

"Stop it Una!" I was getting increasingly annoyed. "You are taking advantage of my situation!"

She grinned at me, then looked thoughtful, "We need to hide these if you have another patient."

"Oh yes... very true Una. Can you help?"

"I once had to disguise myself as my own twin brother, who was presumed dead, in order to get work with a local aristocrat, Count Orsini," said Una, describing a part of her life I had never heard about before. "I know what to do."

She disappeared upstairs and returned a minute later with a strip of cloth which she used to bind my breasts. It was uncomfortable but, when my shirt, waistcoat and frock coat were replaced, it was pretty much impossible to detect my new feminine attributes. I strode back into the treatment room to see how my patient was faring. Helena had helped Madam Schwartz to a chair.

"The Madam," she said. "Is beginning to come round."

Miss Hyde's eyes flickered under her eyelids, as if she was dreaming, then suddenly opened very wide. She took a long, shuddering, breath.

"Thank you Doctor, I feel much more myself." She looked exhausted but otherwise none the worse for her weird transformations.

Which self was myself to her, I wondered? The Good Doctor, the evil Hyde, or this blend? I definitely got the impression there were three in that strange relationship. I handed her back her slip of paper with the formula that had such a profound effect. I did not mention that I had made a copy - purely in case the next time we had this emergency she had forgotten to bring her own. Or that I had inadvertently 'treated' myself as well.

I gestured at the remaining fluid, "Was this elixir the solution to the evil Mr Hyde?"

"Yes," she said. "I could not return to normal, but this... compromise... was the best alternative. You could imagine it as a sort of glue, to reattach the two parts of my soul. It moderated his evil and made me more... balanced. I left my home town easily in my new persona since nobody was looking for a woman in connection with the whole sorry affair. But thought it wise to seek exile here on the continent. And here I have created a business using the carnal aspect of Hyde's personality, which I found I could not entirely suppress, and now rather enjoy, especially two men at the same time. The Good Doctor was many things that were positive, but he was also a dreadful prude. And at least I can channel Hyde's aggression into something for which certain men will pay highly. The Good Doctor lives inside me too, making me honest, so I do not cheat my customers."

"There's a lot of elixir left," I pointed out, wondering exactly what the pain she delivered as Madam Schwartz felt like, and whether the men she had sex with - two at a time - realised she was originally a man. "I will get Helena to bottle it up for you. How long does it remain potent?"

"For years. I have only just run out of the supply I created in Edinburgh, on the evening before I destroyed my laboratory, and faked Hyde's death."

"Well," I took her hand in a professional manner. "Your secret is safe with us. I am a firm believer in patient confidentiality."

"Thank you," she replied. "Drop in to see me any time you desire pleasure... or pain."

Should I ask, I thought, about the drops I accidentally drank? But, as I hesitated, the opportunity was lost as I heard the doorbell and realised that a new patient had arrived. We all emerged into the hallway at the moment she was being given a seat by Una. It was the wife of the butcher my mother used. What the poor woman saw was myself, looking tense, accompanied by the local brothel madam, with Helena carrying a still-steaming elixir, and our domestic armed with a brutal medieval weapon. It is a tribute to her courage that she didn't turn tail and run.

"Come into my consulting room," I said, leaving the others to finish with Madam Schwartz. "I will see you now."

I invited the woman to sit down and settled, carefully, into my own seat. The binding across my chest made movement difficult and the pressure on my nipples verged on the painful. Girls disguising themselves as boys, for example to go to sea to rescue their true love from the press gang, was evidently a tougher challenge than I thought when just listening to the folk songs. I invited Magda to describe her problem, ready to call Una or Helena in as chaperone, if required.

"Good morning doctor. I have sore nipples, and wondered if you could recommend a treatment," she said.

"Oh how uncomfortable," I replied. This was a parallel to my own situation. "What is the cause of the soreness?"

Nursing mothers often had this problem, though Magda looked a little old to be nursing a child.

"My husband decided he wanted his conjugal rights yesterday," she admitted.

"I see," I replied with that tone that I used when I wanted a patient to say more. Had the man chewed on his wife's nipples until they were sore? My mind flew back to seeing him pleasuring my mother on the first day of my return to Carlsbruck. He was clutching her breasts from his position behind her, but did not seem to be devoting overly much attention to her nipples.

"We went to our bedroom and I removed my clothes," she continued, my concerned tone encouraging her to elaborate. "He didn't bother, just opened his trousers and made himself ready."

"Oh I know," I replied. It was a common thing for husbands to think only of their own gratification. I normally felt some concern for my patients but for some reason today I felt particularly empathetic towards Magda.

"I went to get in the bed but he indicated I should kneel on our Ottoman rug, with my bottom in the air and my head down," she elaborated. "You understand how men sometimes are very specific in their needs and will not be gainsaid."

"Oh I know," I agreed.

"Then he pleasured me, very hard, as sometimes they do," she sighed.

"Oh I know," I said. Again I found myself agreeing even though I had never been pleasured, very hard, by a man. Strangely, part of me began to wonder exactly what it felt like to be pushed and pulled about during sex.

"The pleasuring," continued Magda. "It rubbed my breasts against the Ottoman rug, repeatedly, I complained but he would not let me up and, indeed, put his hand on my back to keep me down and in my place."

"He doesn't deserve you, Magda," I blurted out before I could stop myself. I was a bit surprised I had made that comment. After all what a husband requested of his wife in their own home was no concern of the authorities. Only behaviour in public was subject to censure. Magda also looked surprised, but then smiled. I had my left hand flat on the desk, holding the note paper steady and she reached out and put her hand over the back of mine.

"Our Ottoman rug is not the quality I would like," she admitted. "It is a coarse weave and made from rough fibres. To be honest, Doctor, the texture is more like my scrubbing brush than a fine carpet. But my husband will not spend his wealth on a better item, even in our own bedroom."

"Men!" I said. I was instantly exasperated, "No thought for others!"

"His thrusting rubbed my nipples hard against the rug, which was painful."

"Oh I know," I empathised, for my binding cloth was having a similar effect on mine.

"So that is how they came to be sore," she finished. "And I wondered if you had any recommendations."

Various options presented themselves.

Swapping the rug for a proper silk version came first to mind as it was evident the butcher had purchased a poor copy by a western manufacturer. But a prescription for a comfortable rug, written by me, was unlikely to be fulfilled if the butcher was as miserly as his long-suffering wife suggested.

A different place for pleasuring came next into my thoughts, though I was strangely reluctant to suggest a change of sexual position. Frankly her description had excited me, and not the way I might have expected. I found myself fantasising about having my bottom in the air and the side of my face on a rug - though I was careful in the fantasy to ensure the rug was the finest of silk. However this suggestion was also hopeless as a prescription. I could not imagine any situation where a married couple would accept advice from a therapist.

So, treat the problem symptomatically, I thought to myself. Prescribe a healing balm. And that is what I did. I asked Una to fetch a pot of a thick healing balm from the cellar and gave it to Magda. I hoped we had more stock, for I might need some myself by bedtime.

Magda concluded the patients for the morning. After a late lunch I descended the stairs into the laboratory. I had promised Priapus that I would try to deal with his, not inconsiderable, problem. And I wanted to do some more work to develop my elixir. But both of these projects had been superseded by a new problem, my breasts.

The breasts were bad enough but I had no idea what, less obvious, effects Miss Hyde's elixir may have had on me. I seemed to be more empathetic, which made me worry. If I were developing female traits, could there not come a point where I was incapable of logical thought? I might be overtaken by my emotions and unable to create any complex medication. I might even develop a desire to birth children which, given my current anatomy, would be quite a problem.

"Damion," Helena's voice behind me made me jump. "What's the plan for this afternoon's work?"

"Nipple cream please, Helena," I replied. "If I set you up with the ingredients on that bench over there, and explain the method, can you make a large batch?"

"I think so, Master Damion. Did we give the last remaining cream to the butcher's wife?" she asked, not unreasonably.

"No," I answered. "But I think we need a larger stock. I will set up some benches to start some more complex elixirs."

I decided, rather foolishly it turned out, to try to do all three of my challenges at the same time. Did I feel the need to demonstrate my scientific mind had not been impaired?

Over the next half hour I set up the first bench, then chalked Pi Rho in the corner. This Pr sign would indicate Priapus. I selected some suitable ingredients, that I already knew had an effect of stiffening the male member, from their effect on Herr Weil, and set them to simmer into a stock in a wide mouthed beaker. This would be the first stage of developing a more refined elixir, preferably something with less volume and a lot more potency.

Then I turned to the next table. I labelled this table with Pi Lambda to indicate my elixir of Pleasure. This was quicker to organise as I only needed to set a small copper pan, add water, salt and a couple of other compounds to warm and reduce to a concentrate. I was going to try to create a suitable liquid base to which I could add my active ingredients that I had put together a couple of days earlier. I still had the idea for a more natural fluid as a base but that would take a lot more work. In the meantime I might, by this method, create a useful fluid that would keep the research going.

Then I turned to my final table. I labelled this one Pi Beta, which voiced my current desire to 'please cure my Breasts!'. This was the trickier of the three elixirs. Somewhere in the formula shown me by Miss Hyde was a feminisation effect. Indeed the whole of the formula could be aimed at bringing out feminine traits. But how to reverse this? I looked at each element in turn and struggled to think of a substance that might have the opposite result.

I studied the paper for some time, listening to Helena singing a little song as she worked at her bench, then I became aware of a hissing sound, and the fact that Helena was already up to verse thirty-five in a folk song about a young girl who had amorous adventures as she travelled the country looking for her missing truelove. The young girl was taking advice from a travelling Friar which seemed to mostly consist of spreading her legs wide enough for him to prenetrate her. This was similar to verse thirty-four, in which she had been ploughed hard, by a Ploughman.

And the hissing sound? It came from the stock on my Pi Rho table which had started to bubble over into the flame.

I rushed over, noticing on the way that the pan on the Pi Lambda table was also getting close to the boil. When I got to the beaker I tried to adjust the oil lamp flame to reduce the heat. I should have taken the time to wrap my hand in a protective cloth, or simply pulled the burner out from under the beaker, but I went for making the adjustment under a spitting flask. As I turned the flame down several drops of hot liquid hit the back of my hand.

"Yeow!" I shouted and pulled my hand away. Helena looked over, concerned, from her workbench. I rushed over to the bowl of water we kept filled for just such an occasion and went to plunge my hand into it.

I noted that the drops had absorbed into my skin, leaving a very faint blue stain. The cool water was a great relief from the pain and I kept my hand submerged for two minutes. Then I noticed that the liquid in the pan on the Pi Lambda bench was starting to boil too. I had clearly set both flames too high. Was the feminisation effect of Miss Hyde's elixir already starting to destroy my medical competence?

With my hand dripping water all over the stone flagged floor of the laboratory I rushed to the pan. This time I decided to move the pan first, before it came to the boil, but my wet hand made it hard to get a grip. I dropped the whole lot onto the floor where it became an oily puddle that spread like the tentacles of some sort of translucent octopus. I jerked my foot away from the fluid, concerned that I might get scalded by that as well, lost my balance, put my foot back down into the oily water, and slipped.

I woke, with a headache, to find myself in my bed. The light through the windows suggested it was still afternoon. My clothes were bundled onto a nearby chair. I was not entirely covered by the bedsheet, my chest - sorry bosom - was exposed and Helena was sat on a chair close to my head.

"When were you going to tell me?" said Helena, poking each of my breasts in turn to demonstrate what she was talking about. "And what about this?" she said, pulling back the sheet to reveal my manhood which was stood to attention like it was a raw recruit trying to impress the sergeant on his first day.

I decided to try the politician's approach, avoid replying by answering one question with another. "What happened?" I asked. "The last thing I remember was trying to hurriedly get a pan off the burner."

"You slipped on something you were brewing, hit your head on the bench, and knocked yourself out," Helena replied. "We brought you up here and I put you to bed."

"Oh, I see," I was ashamed of my incompetence. "Are the elixirs okay? How is the supply of nipple cream coming along?"

"Damion! Stop trying to avoid my questions," Helena was becoming annoyed. "You are not running for Burgomaster."

"I have breasts because I drank two drops of Madam Schwartz's elixir, when we were trying to get Mr Hyde to take his medicine," I admitted.

"I see. And this?" she pointed at my member. It was more erect and harder than I had ever experienced in my life.

"How long has it been like that?" I asked nervously.

"About an hour, by the hall clock," she replied.

"What!" I gasped.

"It has been very frustrating sitting here nursing you, Damion. I have several times been tempted to make use of that," she flicked my penis with her finger. It was so erect that it twanged like the string of a musical instrument. "But I considered I might hurt you, or make things worse."

I thought hard, why had I got such an erection? And why had it not faded naturally? Then I remembered that splashes of the stock that I was preparing for Lord Priapus had soaked into the back of my hand. I looked at my right hand, the little blue stains were still evident. This combination of ingredients was already potent and just needed enhancing and testing.

"Damion! Damion!" Helena's voice was strident in my ear.

"Sorry... what?" I replied.

"You drifted off there. You need to keep alert." she said.

"Sorry Helena," I admitted. "You are right."

"Well?"

"Well what?" I had lost the thread again.

"Why do you have an erection that is harder than any I have ever felt?" she said with a decidedly randy look on her face. "And why does it not go down?"

"I was preparing a medicine for Lord Priapus," I admitted. "When I went to turn down the flame I got splattered, some of the medicine hit the back of my hand."

"Oh," replied Helena. "I never asked what you thought you could do for the Lord. Now I think I understand. His servants said he had a limp member. Is this to make it hard?"

"Yes," I said. "There's more work needed and I think a distillate would be the best final product. A few drops on the tongue would then generate the required effect."

"Ooo! Lovely! I must come with you when you take it to him."

"Must come with me?"

"Yes," she grinned a wide and lustful grin. "He might want to test it."

We fell quiet at that point. My head was full of the image of Helena and the Lord Priapus. Well, it was her decision, but she might regret it. A more pressing problem were my breasts. It looked like I would be doing no more research today. Would I return to normal over time or had the elixir had a permanent effect? And if so, why the hell had there been no warning on the sheet Miss Hyde gave me!

There is a sculptural term for my situation, Hermaphroditus, and statues with that form have been discovered on ancient sites. All things Classical, literature, art and science, have again become popular, a sign of our developing civilisation since the Renaissance. And - once again - we have started to carve figures with both breasts and a penis, often as decorations to buildings. But, and this was a big but, I had no desire to spend the rest of my life as a sculptor's model.