The Mutant Twins

The Mutant Twins

“He had actually wanted
to write about the love
life of Siamese twins…”
—Michael Maar,
“Speak, Nabokov”

The young Vane brothers were rather vain—and why shouldn’t they be that way? After all, they were young, extremely handsome & very wealthy. They lived in the big old Vane Mansion—on the top of the hill overlooking beautiful downtown Poughkeepsie.

The only problem was—they were Siamese twins.

I had never met them—until one dark & stormy night I knocked on their door. I’d gone to Albany-SUNY with their sister—Sybil Vane who was majoring in pre-med like me. She was very shy & reclusive—I never could understand why. Until that strange, spooky night—when she invited me over to meet the Vane Family.

I’d heard rumors about the Vane Mansion. And the crazy old Dr. Fricke who lived there. He was a rich reclusive taxidermist—not a real doctor. He was the guardian for the Vane Family & Estate. He did strange experiments in his laboratory. His wife had run away years ago—for some secret reason.

Apparently, not too many readers—know about this sordid story involving Dr. Fricke. It’s a rather monstrous tale. Nabokov’s "Scenes from the Life of a Double Monster"—is loosely based on this rather obscene twisted gothic romance.

As I mentioned, Dr. Fricke was a taxidermist—not a doctor or scientist. He took a ghoulish interest in the two Vane brothers—his adopted sons. Apparently, according to Sybil, they had a rather monstrous boyhood. They were both 18-years-old now—but nobody had seen hide nor hair of them for many years.

After dating Sybil for a semester—my interest was naturally somewhat pricked by some of the rather repulsive details about the twins that Sybil told me. Since I was in pre-med—I too like Dr. Fricke had became fascinated with the anatomy of freaks.

“I might never have heard
of Cynthia’s death, had I
not run, that night into D.”
—Vladimir Nabokov,
“The Vane Sisters”

The story opens with Herr Doktor Fricke (played by Colin Clive) having some fun cavorting in bed with Floyd & Lloyd—the young pair of cute teen Siamese twins during a playful three-way upstairs in the palatial splendor of Castle Frankenstein’s master bedroom.

Of course, Mary Shelley & Elsa Lanchester have already flown the coop by then—there being nothing else in this gay version of the Hollywood monster movie left for them to be interested in.

But fickle, fey Herr Doktor Frankenstein (played Fricke)—is getting into it. It’s not just another one of your normal Bijou Halloween Midnight Specials, you know. dark & stormy nights, you know—it’s a new tale of terror being brought to you by the Lolitaesque quickie imagination of VN. The biggest closet-case Euro-fag this side of the Revolution—and I don’t mean just Cuba either.

Lightening strikes it long snaky, jagged strokes across the tremulous fracturing the sullen night sky—those wicked nervous jittery jig-jags up there so high in the Herzegovinan heavens. While Igor the creepy Hunchback & his rowdy skinhead boyz keep those sky-kites going—sailing fast & taunt above in the dark moody medieval castle turrets.

Sucking up the skanky lightening bolts—draining the dark moody clouds of their terrible, seminal electrical voltages. The liquid ozone oozing cathode ray lightening bolts—captured by the kites, then sucked down into shiny metal bottles down in the laboratory basement crypt where all the nitty-gritty action is.

The power of the lightening—giving the stitched-together two young teenage monsters life eternal. Just the right Zippity-Do-Dah Zap homoerotic buzz—that Herr Doktor Frankenstein craves so very much. Those cute Vane Siamese twin brothers—really give nefarious, decadent Dr. Fricke a nice piece of Tainted Love.

Floyd & Lloyd the Siamese twin monster boyz—tied up & spread-eagled there. On the huge canopied Louis XIV plush sumptuous bed. They’re wired, baby—they’re into it. They even fuckin’ glow—the moody midnight darkness!

Plus, of course, the two Boy Toys are totally loaded outta their gourds. Thanks to the unusual herbal aphrodisiac concoctions—lovingly brewed by that charming old Transylvanian Witch. The Gypsy Fortune Teller Maria Ouspenskaya.

Ah yes, Maria Ouspenskaya! The beloved mother of famous/infamous badboy Bela Lugosi. Her much despised & misunderstood Werewolf son—who lives down the hill in the whitetrash Balkan Trailer Court. There outside the castle moat—in the deep dark Forest of Wolves by the Poughkeepsie Bowling Alley.

Madame Ouspenskaya gathers the tender midnight blooms of the wild Wolfbane herb—that only opens up & becomes potent during the Full Moon. Adding other Transylvanian herbs & West Coast folklore newly legalized weeds—for the ultimate long-lasting Aphrodisiac of Tainted Love. That Herr Doktor Fricke needs so desperately—for his decadently arcane research into Young Geek Love.

On this particular stormy night, the good Doktor wears a dreamy, stony smile—etched onto his high-cheekboned, calm-as-death surgeon’s face. He’s stroking the lovely pink fleshy cartilaginous uncut boner—that the twin young males so intimately share. He strokes it with loving attention & scientific care…

That’s where I walk in. Sybil cautions me not to be too shocked—but I am, of course, much too cocky, young & foolish for my own good. I’m in love with Sybil—and want to make love with her that stormy night. Sybil had made sure I’m loose as a goose after one too many dry martinis.

I know something is going on that night—with all the lightening & thunder, the commotion up there on the mansion roof & all the mysterious goings-on down there in the basement. That’s when Sybil tades me to the master bedroom—and opens the heavy moaning, groaning door.

There’s the lascivious Dr. Fricke—in the huge master bedroom. In bed with the two nude Vane Boyz—who’re enjoying the lavish attentions of their jaded, unforgivable stepfather.

Dr. Fricke is stroking the magnificent piece of Siamese male muscle—that both Floyd & Lloyd share so intimately together. A huge 12” fleshy cartilaginous organ—that unites the two young lascivious Siamese twins in midnight ecstasy. They’re co-joined at their sexy “Elvis the Pelvis” hips—and from their twisted loins springs forth the shared tool that makes them so exquisitely, shockingly and naughtily studly divine!

I’d never seen anything like it! In all my pre-med surgery studies & intense medical research. In all my autopsy classes—and anatomy lectures. This was the first time I’d ever seen—a pair of Siamese twins with a huge throbbing 12” penis ready, willing & able for some real “down & dirty” Midnight Show hanky-panky!

I blushed & turned to Sybil—we’d both read Nabokov’s short story “ Scenes from the Life of a Double Monster.” But this was the real thing—I was totally shocked & blown away. Sybil smirked and locked the door—behind her on her way out.

“Don’t’ be shy,” said Dr. Fricke. “C’mon young man—we’ve been expecting you.” The twins nodded appreciatively—flexing their monster endowment down there in a most agreeable way.

“You see, my young doctor-to-be,” Dr. Pickle opined, motioning me over to the scene of the dirty crime. “I call this lovely piece of Siamese sexual anatomy that my two boyz share—I call this lovely thing their “omphalopagus diaphragmo-xiphodidymus” as Herr Doktor Professor Pretorius has dubbed a similar case with his own young teenage Frankenstein.

Like a bird hypnotized by a snake—l felt myself drawn over to the obscene bedside of gruesome-threesome sex-play going on that fateful stormy night. That dreadful ménage-a-trois taking place there in the luxurious bed—in front of my unbelieving bulging eyeballs. I couldn’t help but notice on the walls above the bed—several kitschy motel moderne Elvis Presley black-velvet paintings. They added just the right poshlust allure—to the rather skanky proceedings that dark & stormy night.

I’d heard louche rumors about gay both Dr. Fricke & Ernest Thesiger—getting it on with foppish Colin Clive playing a gay Henry Frankenstein. Leaning against the stainless steel operating table—having an orgasm & ejaculating “It’s alive! It’s alive!” But surely not even James Whale—could get away with something like this!

Lloyd the cute Siamese twin youth on the right—contemplated me placidly. Puffing some hookah smoke—down thru his erect nostrils. As if I were nothing more than—an awestruck child-idiot who’d just walked off the street. Floyd the youth on the left—was cross-eyed and gimpy. Harelipped—and drooling. Obviously the dummy lower IQ Siamese half—of the lovely twin combo. What a shocking twosome combination—such two completely different brothers made.

Dr. Fricke that filthy old scoundrel—had somehow concocted a true circus horror show just for his own sordid enjoyment & devilish delectation. He was obviously in his element—and Sybil had locked me in with this fiend and his indecent ungodly Siamese Twin creation!

Even tho Fricke was merely an ignorant, old-fashioned, Transylvanian taxidermist—he’d managed somehow to create this stunning shocking pair of seminal young male monsters! I couldn’t help but stare—I felt myself growing weak in the knees. Dr. Fricke & the Twins—smirked at me. As if they knew something about me—that surely was hidden deep in the recesses of my supposedly straight closet…

I could feel it, almost taste it—all those simply awful oozing male orgones comin’ straight outta every pulsating pore of the nude twins in bed looking at me. Surely these two Siamese Twins represented—the sheerest horror and most forbidden depths of human bestiality I’d ever seen in my life. Nothing on the internet could possibly compare with it—not even Lady Gaga on YouTube!!!

The nefarious Dr. Fricke had created—a virtual homegrown nightmare dynamic duo. A nefarious pair of slithering sick mutants—a pair of shameless Zoophilia Zoo Boyz from another world. A couple of teenage extraterrestrial sex-fiends—truly a most disgusting carnival sideshow act of Devil Boyz from Mars exo-depravity.

Right there in the master bedroom—of the Vane Mansion! In innocent Poughkeepsie USA—downtown Middle Class Americana! A sterling example of Bad Science gone amok—Bad Romance on the make! A walking, talking, animalistic, forbidden Tale—Siamese Sin & Twin Brotherly Love Degradation!
But that was just the beginning—from then on I sucked into being the assistant of mad Dr. Fricke. It was completely different—than studying or doing medical research as Albany-SUNY.

There’s no comparison between that kind of straight academic knowledge—and the sudden impact of the disturbing & emotional shocks I went thru with Dr. Fricke & the Twins. Adjusting to the deliberate abuse of the possessive singular—in favor of the kind of unrestrained, ignorant, passionate communicative things that went on with these “Brothers of the Head” in the Vane Mansion late at night.

There was something dreadfully wrong about medicine & science—that only looked at one patient at a time. Twin-patients were beyond the limits of modern science—when it came to Siamese psychology and EEG brain activity. The way Lloyd & Floyd interacted together was truly unique—even when they were deep in REM dream-time they actually dreamed the same dreams!

Which actually doesn’t sound that strange—given the fact that Siamese Twins shared the same brain waves & feelings when they were awake as well. The kind of adolescent wetdreams & nocturnal emissions—they experienced as their male hormones kicked in earlier. Even these tentative, libidinal & copious interruptions in the middle of the night were quite revealing. Both Floyd & Lloyd reported that they were having the same sensuous, homoerotic love affairs with each other—that they began having even as they were wide-awake with Dr. Fricke in tow.

Lloyd was the smart one—he did all the thinking for the Siamese Twin Brothers. But intelligence & IQ didn’t make any difference—when gimpy, sex-maniac Floyd wanted to get down. What can you do—if you’re conjoined for life with your alter ego? Even tho Lloyd was right-handed & refused to abuse himself—Floyd was unstoppable & insatiable. Floyd had simply turned left-handed—and went to town that way.

There was plenty to abuse—even tho the act of self-abuse was always imbued with an oxymoronic quandary of twinned cognitive dissonance. Repulsion, pity, horror, ambivalence, boredom—all these emotions played thru both boys growing up thru adolescence. As peach-fuzz slowly grew on their upper lips—and wiry pubes sprouted down below. Both Siamese twins—had to make compromises with their wants & desires. To keep the peace—and still be brothers in the skin.

Their limbs grew into handsome components—both had silky skin with velvety veins & violet-pink arteries coursing thru such a pair of innocent lambs. Who would have ever guessed such joy, pride, tenderness, adoration & gratitude—would be turned by God & Dr. Fricke into such terrible horror & despair?

That’s when the fatal realization happened—when Lloyd & Floyd realized the Awful Truth. That the linked Lloyd & Floyd weren’t especially—the complete and normal way that things really were. That all the other unhooked, disconjoined, separated human creatures they came into contact with—weren’t the Freaks, the Gimps, the Mutants that both Lloyd & Floyd indeed were.

That’s where Dr. Fricke came in—the soothing, benevolent Guardian of the Vale Estate. Elucidating as thoroughly as he could—without reaching for a scalpel or knife. With calm adult emotions unstained with guilt or premonitions—without even the slightest whiff of disgust. By virtue of some kind of uncommon common sense—a sort of jaded duplicity & forward-looking duplexity. Taking care of the Siamese twins, wiping their noses—brushing their teeth, kissing their pouty lips.

Others might seek both Lloyd & Floyd—as nothing more than a couple of freaks, a pair of drunken dwarfs. Fit for a carnival sideshow—or a Tod Browning silent movie. But Dr. Fricke had better plans—after all even if they died, Fricke could still stuff them & put them in his Taxidermy Cabinets. And still make a buck or two—like he did with his incredible two-headed chickens, mutant monkeys & other graceful formaldehyde bottled beauties!

But yes indeed, the Siamese twins grew like weeds—assuming side-by-side reciprocal positions. Reverting in sleep to their usual fetal lovey-dovey arm-in-arm embrace—engendering telepathic dreams all night long.

Only when they became teenagers—did they find uncomfortable their clumsy conjunction. Even tho their minds—didn’t question their normalcy yet. When they did become aware mentally—of the obvious drawbacks. Well, then, their instinctual physical intuitions always discovered a means of tempering the problem.

It always amazed Dr. Fricke—how judicious their spontaneous compromises could be. Often a mutual urge formed itself quite ad lib & impromptu—when some discrete impulse, Floyd’s or Lloyd’s, wanted to follow its own course of action. But always that impulse got redirected by the warp of both bodies—and never went athwart of the common weave with simply a pushy whim.

Later tho, Lloyd suffered the most—more in adolescence than childhood. He began questioning the need for compromise with goofy Floyd—and began regretting they’d not perished or had been surgically separated earlier than now. Before the initial stages of animal-like ever-present rhythms took place. Their mutual heartbeats—sounding like twin jungle drums in their conjoined nervous systems.

Lloyd began having regrets. Like when it came to conjoined sexuality—and Floyd wanted to get off and taste the ripe fig of their exquisite double orgasm. For it was both a gift & a curse—a double-barreled sot of the twin’s shotgun of jungle love sexuality.

Both youths experiencing their own prostate glands suddenly shivering—as their shared organ of desire milked both youths of everything they had as young hormonal mature individuals. The enriched ripple of their shared desire—twice as “enriched” as one single pulsating youth simply masturbating himself with singular pride. A kind of self-conscious resentment grew inside Lloyd’s heart—a kind of first intimation & frustration of privacy lost forever.

Again this is where Dr. Fricke came in—helping the two Siamese twins to adjust to this new world of the will-to-life (Wille zum Leben) will. With all its troublesome Schopenhauer insights—into the human condition:

"We should be surprised that a matter that generally plays such an important part in the life of man has hitherto been almost entirely disregarded by philosophers, and lies before us as raw and untreated material."

“Love... interrupts at every hour the most serious occupations, and sometimes perplexes for a while even the greatest minds... It knows how to slip its love-notes and ringlets even into ministerial portfolios and philosophical manuscripts..."

Lloyd had a better chance to understand it intellectually—but even so Floyd instinctively understood it not as some cognitive problematic, but as something to do. And do it as much as possible. Which cramped Lloyd’s style, of course—making him feel tapped twofold-wise. First, feeling Lloyd’s animality & lack of cerebration penetrating his mind—and the other problem of not being able to do anything about it.

Eager rascal Dr. Fricke—solved the problem very efficiently and practically. Tranquilizers and sedatives didn’t work to calm the beastly other—since the two boyz shared the same bloodstream they both simply became zombies.

Then Dr. Fricke turned to more drastic methods. He pondered giving over-sensitive, over-intelligent Lloyd—a louche lobotomy to relieve the poor kid of his Siamese anxiety & uneasy twinned ennui. But then that would make the Vane Mansion a very lonely place indeed—without Lloyd to talk, play cards, do chess & opine about the things Dr. Fricke loved to talk about.

But as the Siamese twins got older—Lloyd left Floyd far behind him. Floyd seemed mired in the same old mind-fucks—the struggling teenage reality he got stuck in was a No Exit for the kid. But he didn’t have enough IQ to know the difference—other than watching porno on the internet gave him something to do.

While Floyd forgot everything & lived in the continuous present moment—Lloyd forgot nothing & wanted to move ahead. He soon got tired of entertaining Dr. Fricke with card games & chess—he got the idea of the opposite sex giving him what he needed most. Dr. Fricke caught Lloyd with a pillowcase over Floyd’s head—having incestuous sex with their sister Sybil.
Shit! Dr. Fricke luckily caught them in time—and explained the use of Trojans & other handy prophylactics. He made Sybil start taking the Pill—but otherwise had no moral compunction to make the Vane threesome cease & desist their brotherly-sisterly fun & games.

It was something Dr. Fricke enjoyed himself—a rollicking roll-in-the-hay with all three young vivacious Vane offspring. He no longer plied his trade—as a salesman of patent medicine. This bald little fellow—in a dirty-white Russian smock. Even tho he could speak a dozen languages—the nightly rendezvous intense bedroom encounters demanded a whole new pigeon-English language to encompass the depths of depravity they engaged in.

And sleeping together as they did—Dr. Fricke himself began having strange telepathic dreams about Sybil, Lloyd and Floyd. Somewhere in the deep dark past—before Dr. Fricke showed up. The Vane brothers’ dainty loving mother—had been gangbanged by a terrible bunch of disreputable young men in the Balkan Trailer Court next to the Poughkeepsie Bowling Alley. Dr. Fricke could actually visualize them in his lucid dreams—after a night of glutting himself with the Siamese boyz seminal young male fluids.

There was the ardent burning eyes—of a gigantic, bronze-faced, skinhead retard as brutal as any AWOL sailor from Herzegovina. There was a one-eyed hunchbacked Armenian truck-driver (gimpy monster in his own right). There was the gaping, toothless mouth of Bela Lugosi in the next-door trailer—bent on one last suck-and-fuck before he kicked the fuckin’ bucket.

There even was even a university linguist—from Waindell College or was it Wordsmith from New Wye? Who was an uncanny expert at sneaky, conniving cunninglingus—with his embroidered toupee sliding down over his shiny bald head. Courting all the women in the trailer park—and then with his steel-rimmed spectacles perched on his craggy nose, going for sloppy seconds with the Siamese twin’s helpless, defenseless, dazed mother.

No wonder the Siamese twins—were the rarest of freaks. The hidden Lost Knowledge of their poor mother—who died unconsciously during childbirth. After being in a sad coma—for the whole duration of her nine month pregnancy. It was this heartbreaking knowledge of their atrocious anonymous birthright—that empowered even overpowered Dr. Fricke—into his own special kind of fatherly concern for these poor Vane children.

Sybil Vane had grown up—becoming a well-rounded college graduate. She went on to being a missionary nurse on the new colony on Mars—where her expertise in dealing with freaks came in handy dealing with the two-headed Martian creatures who lived on the shore of Amazonis Plaintis. She went on to becoming a wizened colonialist—like Zsa Zsa Gabor the Queen of the Universe.

Meanwhile back in lowly Poughkeepsie—I took up residence as Dr. Fricke’s lowly assistant. I too started having strange telepathic dreams—after some of our all-night “Double-your-Pleasure, Double-your-Fun” Double-Mint Romps in the Master Bedroom. I imaged melting away my earthly shackles—and the feeling of mind-melding with both Lloyd & Floyd. How can I describe it—the strange, eerie feeling of unadulterated, shameless, sudden doppelganger-déjà vu?

I became Lloyd’s dream-double—hobbling along beside him like Floyd did. I was hopelessly joined to leering, smirking, know-it-all Lloyd—as if I too were just a piece of extra no-good spare luggage. Just another old suitcase Lloyd had to drag around—more genetic baggage he’d rather get rid of. It made me so depressed—I had to wake myself up.

That’s when I appealed to Dr. Fricke—that we perhaps all four of us poor our minds into one dream at a time? Like a Clipper ship on the high seas—with 4 masts full of sails that were Lloyd, Floyd, Fricke and me? It worked pretty good—and I don’t know how many times we sailed that vast Siamese Sea of our conjoined REM dreamtime imaginations.

The Siamese Sun would rise over our heads—Lloyd’s hand would be on the steering wheel. Our nocturnal nautical voyages—along with foul-smelling young sailors with purplish-pink hickies on their necks. Tattoos of Popeye & Olive Oil on their bulging biceps—walking the gangplank of love when Floyd got to be pirate captain. Into blurry lagoons—lined with crooked palms, cypresses & Judas trees in full bloom. Man-eating natives—and buried treasure chests. How we haggled over the ersatz gold doubloons & fake fading Siamese sunsets in the evenings.

I don’t know what we feared the most—getting bored in that big old Vane Mansion. Or knowing too much about each other—each of us eventually the same Siamese twin brother merging with each other. Sometimes I’d be the chauffeur—in some dream Mercedes limo convertible. Driving fast along the autobahn at night—on the outskirts of Berlin beneath the Siamese stars. Taking long silent rides for the heck of it—just to feel the speed, the darkness of some other vast Other that encompassed us four lonely human beings.

Sometimes I could feel Lloyd’s arm around my shoulder—as if I were Floyd sitting there next to him. Sitting in some midnight Bijou theater balcony—lost in some cinematic film called “Casablanca.” Slipping down the slippery slope—into some casino nightclub romance scene. With Dooley Wilson playing “As Time Goes By”—at the end of one war & the beginning of another.

So that pretty soon—I lost track of time in that huge lonely Vane mansion. I became vain with myself—thinking I was Lloyd & Lloyd was me. That Floyd was me too—and I him. I even became Frau Fricke—when I had to. And the Siamese sunsets in the evening—they just went on & on…

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