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Beschreibung

The story of “Frankenstein", long-accepted as the classic horror tale, is as well-known today as when it was first published over a hundred years ago. This reputation achieved in spite of the limitations imposed on the book by the puritanical mores of the day. Powerful censors substituted uncovered for naked, extremity for leg, charms for breasts, strawberries for nipples, thing for penis, stones for balls, place for cunt, occupy for fuck—thus depriving the writer of the times of any freedom of realistic expression. But suppose such limitations had been lifted? Suppose episodes, adventures, descriptions, dialogue, and vocabulary (especially where sexual in nature) were no longer blue-pencilled by a severe censorship. There can be no doubt that if this were the case, masterpieces such as “Frankenstein” would be even more realistic and more graphic. The adaptation of “Frankenstein” by Hal Kantor has achieved this goal. The story, though still occurring in its original setting in time and place, has been expanded and liberated and now includes a story-line, details, and wording that would have been deleted by prudish censors.

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Table of Contents
The Adult Version of Frankenstein
PREFACE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The Adult Version of Frankenstein

Anonymous

This page copyright © 2009 Olympia Press.

adapted by Hal Kantor

PREFACE

The story of “Frankenstein”, long-accepted as the classic horror tale, is as well-known today as when it was first published over a hundred years ago. This reputation achieved in spite of the limitations imposed on the book by the puritanical mores of the day. Powerful censors substituted uncovered for naked, extremity for leg, charms for breasts, strawberries for nipples, thing for penis, stones for balls, place for cunt, occupy for fuck—thus depriving the writer of the times of any freedom of realistic expression.

But suppose such limitations had been lifted? Suppose episodes, adventures, descriptions, dialogue, and vocabulary (especially where sexual in nature) were no longer blue-pencilled by a severe censorship. There can be no doubt that if this were the case, masterpieces such as “Frankenstein” would be even more realistic and more graphic.

The adaptation of “Frankenstein” by Hal Kantor has achieved this goal. The story, though still occurring in its original setting in time and place, has been expanded and liberated and now includes a story-line, details, and wording that would have been deleted by prudish censors.

The monster is not merely a grotesque ogre, but a creature of feelings and emotions—especially those of a sexual nature. Dr. Frankenstein, the creator of the monster, is himself beset by the dilemma of a bride-to-be whose erotic appetites are such as to provide him with the tortures of the damned.

The result? A “Frankenstein” which is modern in concept and form, but which still retains the ingredients that made it a classic....

CHAPTER ONE

The first link in the horrible chain of events that was to imprison Victor Frankenstein and Elizabeth Lavenza was forged when he was thirteen and she was fifteen.

Elizabeth, Victor's cousin, had been forced by the death of her parents, several months previously, to live in the Frankenstein castle. Victor, naturally shy, gradually became a recluse in the presence of the young but voluptuous Elizabeth. Up to that point his life had been one solely of inquisitive study. Scholars and tutors had wrought their influence on his fertile mind and had planted the seeds of research and investigation. But with the appearance of the beautiful Elizabeth, a new influence entered his consciousness. And for the first time in his thirteen years, it was his body, rather than his mind, that responded to an outside stimulus.

Totally unaware and unprepared for the strange stirrings within his loins, young Victor was at a loss with how to cope with what was happening to him everytime he saw Elizabeth. Finally, almost in desperation, he forced himself to evade any form of contact with her. But his mind couldn't escape from the teasing and haunting image of his exciting cousin. Her image went with him everywhere—there was no escape from the thrust of her young breasts straining against the material of her dress—from the curve and arc of her buttocks as she walked and ran— from the lush ripe lips or from the lithe long legs that seemed to taunt him with the mystery of their apex. Alas, young Victor Frankenstein was a prisoner of his own imagination...

And of this particular morning he sought to escape the confines of his jail.

Alone in his room, he sprawled across his bed.

His body was wracked and tormented by feelings and urges of which he had no understanding. His face was lined with agony and his hands trembled as he struggled to overcome the suffocating power within him. But it was no use. He was helpless. It was as if he had lost all controls of his senses and of his ability to dictate to his brain...

As if in a trance he watched his hand move down his body. Finally coming to a hesitating halt between his legs. He lifted his pelvic and a soft sigh of relief whispered through his clenched teeth at the pressure of his groin against his palm. His hard-on was instantaneous.

He lay back on the soft pillow and closed his eyes while his fingers struggled to release the swollen organ from the confines of his pants. He felt his entire being tremble at the feather-touch of cool air against his throbbing prick. He clutched it tightly, not knowing what else to do. Its hardness excited him and he sat up. With his free hand he cupped his balls, whimpering at the scream of sensation that went reeling through his mind. His fingers closed around the hard flesh and he shivered. Then the images began to move across the window-screen of his brain...

It was Elizabeth.

Naked, Beckoning to him. Bending so that her young full breasts hung down and the rose-tipped nipples seemed to touch at her bare knees. She straightened, then seductively lifted the beautiful white flesh of her tits in an uplifting movement. The nipples hardened as her palms kissed them. Then she was running her fingers through her long blonde hair and turning so that he could see the svelte lines of her profile.

Victor trembled at the sight of the golden curls coiling symmetrically between her legs. She moved toward him and he could see the pink mound of her mystique. She stopped in front of him. Smiled seductively. Then, with deliberate slowness her fingers pulled open the cave of her cunt...

He groaned and buried his head in the pillow.

Not knowing why his hand began to slide up and down the long hard shaft. He could feel the rumbling response deep within him. His fingers moved faster. Harder he clutched and his breath quickened. Beads of sweat exclamation-pointed themselves across his forehead. He could feel the spiraling spring of some unknown tension tightening within his balls. Tighter and tighter it wound with each savage stroke of his hand. He knew not what was going to happen except that it was going to be wonderful. Harder and harder he stroked. Grunting with the effort, he suddenly felt the birth of his climax...

The spring was unwinding.

He could feel the beginnings of pulsation. The spasmodic spurt of some strange fluid. He looked down at his hands, now covered with the sticky white serum.

And it was then that he heard the door to his bedroom opening.

“Victor, I've been.... Oh, Victor...!”

He looked up into Elizabeth's face and saw the shock. Suddenly, though he didn't know why, he was ashamed. His hands covered the still-swollen shaft and he bowed his head.

“Go 'way, Elizabeth,” he murmured. “Please go 'way.”

But she came closer and it wasn't until he heard her stop by the side of his bed that he dared to look into her face. Her eyes were glued on his hands and he saw the pink tip of her tongue lick suggestively at the red lush lips.

“What—what are you doing, Victor?” she asked quietly.

Once again he couldn't look at her and he nibbled nervously at his lips. “I—I... don't know,” he answered with misery lacing his words.

Her fingers under his chin lifted his face. She studied him and realized from his expression that he was telling the truth. He really didn't know...

But she knew.

“It's—it's good... isn't it?” she asked. Timidly he nodded.

“And—and you've never done... done it before, have you?”

“Done—done what?”

“Played with—with yourself.”

He looked down at the now slowly fading hard-on and then shook his head. Suddenly he was ashamed and frightened. Some hidden instinct told him that what he was doing was wrong. He began to pull his pants back up over his loins but Elizabeth stopped him.

“I-I do it all... all the time!”

His head snapped up at her confession and he could see the rise and fall of her breasts as her breathing heavied. Her eyes were glued to his now fully-limp prick and he sensed that some kind of struggle was taking place within her.

“Do you... do you... do you want me to show you how?” she asked in a whisper-like voice.

He did and he didn't. Conscience and morality struggled against desire and need. Passion won out...

His answer was to sink back to the bed and to remove his hands from his groin. His eyes closed and he lay there balanced on the sword of surrender while he anticipated her first touch.

When it came he whimpered and clouds of response confused what she was doing to him. He became aware of the walking stroke of her fingers. Of her caress against the sensitive tip. And his cock seemed to explode under her touch.

He opened his eyes and looked down. He had never seen his tool so enormous. He didn't know it was possible for a man's penis to become so enlarged.

He groaned, as if in pain, because of the throbbing pounding in the blood-filled meat...

Now she was crouching on her knees over him and he could see the white-swell of her breasts as she leaned forward. Her hands were busy-stroking—touching—caressing—and his whole body seemed to respond. He felt his toes clench and his knees flex and unflex.

“N—No... no... no,” he moaned but his pleading seemed to spur her on.

Suddenly he had to touch her.

He sat up and his hands burrowed into the top of her dress. He felt the cool flesh of her tits under his fingers and then the bud of her nipples against his palms. He sighed with satisfied desire and then carefully opened the front of the garment. Her breasts hung down and he cupped them carefully in his hands. He could see the trembling of his fingers and feel the dryness of his lips and sudden shyness blocked his next move and he took his hands away from her body.

“Don't stop,” he heard her murmur. “Go on—please go on. Touch me.”

Once again he cupped her breasts. This time he was aware of Elizabeth's response. She too, was trembling. She too, was shaking in response to sensation. Her flesh was now sticky with perspiration. He could hear the shallow breathing covering the soft whimperings of her satisfaction. Then she could no longer control herself and her face dropped between his wide-spread legs...

He screamed at the first touch of her lips around his prick. Then her mouth covered him and the cry was smothered as streams of sensation washed over him. He fell away from her as he felt her tongue begin long sweeping movements up and down the hard flesh. His body began to writhe under her and his head twisted from side to side. His arms flung straight out and his fingers raked like talons on the sheets. He could feel the pressure beginning to build within his hot cock and he tried to smother it. But even then he knew that it was only a matter of moments before he lost control.

Her mouth and her tongue and her lips moved more rapidly. She sucked and licked and stroked and occasionally he cried out with suppressed pain at the agony of the ecstacy. He could feel her hand cupping his balls and the added sensation was like a chorus to the symphony of delight. Now there was no turning back. Now he was building toward the final crescendo...

“Oh God!... oh God!... OH GOD!” he screamed.

His body rigided. It was as if he was made of stone. And then the concrete crumbled and washed away in the explosion of his release.

He felt her mouth closing over him as the spasmodic spurting shook his being. It was pouring out of him now in long steady streams and he knew from the sounds of her moving mouth that she was absorbing his life-fluid into her. Caught up in the whirlpool of the wash, he was powerless to fight it. His body was bathed in sweat and his eyes seemed to bulge from their sockets as the magic of the moment continued. Finally, however, the ecstasy began to fade and he became aware of Elizabeth carefully lifting her head.

He looked at her face and shivered because of her expression. The sticky white fluid creamed her lips and she licked carefully with the tip of her tongue. One hand covered the still-spasmodically spurting prick and he groaned at the screech of sensation as she ran a finger-edge back and forth over the satiny tip. Almost timidly his hand reached down to cover hers. He too, could feel the sticky seeds of his being....

With a cry she fell across him, her breasts burrowing against his chest while her mouth sought his. He could taste the strange substance on her lips and ladders of sensation walked across his shoulders. Her tongue was probing deep and he sucked at the root in response. Then the desire died and with their mouths still locked, they lay in repose...

It was Elizabeth who recovered first. She sat up and carefully edged her breasts back into the protection of the dress. She was smiling as she looked down at him...

“Wasn't it... it good, Victor?”

He nodded, not knowing what else to say.

“See, I told you.”

He sat up and taking her by the shoulder, looked into her face. “Will you... will you do it again?” he asked hesitantly.

“If you want me to.”

“When?”

“Not now,” she said, getting up from the bed and moving toward the door. “Tonight. I'll come to you tonight.”

He reached down into his soul and summoned the courage to ask the question. “And can I... can I... can I do it to you?”

It was obvious from her broad smile that the question had pleased her. “Oh, yes, Victor,” she responded quickly. “You can do it to me. We'll do it to each other.”

Then the door was closing behind her and he was left alone.

It was at that moment that Victor Frankenstein became a young man. His youth peeled away from him and he was no longer a boy. He knew not what these strange feelings that stirred with him were but only that without them he was nothing. And even as he walked on trembling legs to the bathroom to clean himself up images of Elizabeth were constantly with him. He felt love and desire and sexuality and though he couldn't explain them, his inquisitive mind sensed that these were the source of life. That without them was death. Without them was nothingness. He knew, even then, that someday he would marry Elizabeth Lavenza—for to Victor Frankenstein she epitomized all that was female. All that was life. And though he knew not what the future would bring in terms of his life, he knew that without Elizabeth it would be nothing.

Eagerly and impatiently, he waited for the night.

And for Elizabeth.

CHAPTER TWO

The castle seemed to shake with the ravages of the storm. It was as if the gods themselves were responding and reacting to the moment. Wind howled like wild banshees. Rain smote against the windows like stones. Thunder rolled in long waves of sound and jagged lightning jolted and crashed, illuminating Victor's room with alternately fading and brilliant light. It was a fitting backdrop to the experience that was about to unfold.

He saw her standing in the doorway, her figure illumined ghost-like by the glow of lightning. Then she was silhouetted in the darkness and his only awareness of her presence was the sound of her breathing.

He went to her and took her in his arms. Through his fingertips he could feel the trembling of the muscles across her shoulders and down her back. He felt the pressure of her breasts and the thrust of her breasts and belly against him. Then he stepped away and looked at her. Her long blonde hair framed her ivory face and her wide eyes seemed bottomless while she waited.

“Let me... let me... see you,” he said huskily.

His lips were dry and his throat felt parched while she lifted the gown up over her [...]