seymoure

Chapter 84

Pedigree

Learning is never easy, but relearning is the most daunting experience.

The Count curled his chubby fingers around the elephantine leg of a chair and began to pull himself into what he hoped would eventually be a standing position.

It had been longer than he could remember since his arms were not massively powerful. Straining against the world’s pull on his body, his tiny muscles were just not up to the task.

He crumpled almost at once to the ground.

He fought the urge to cry like the baby he seemed to be.

As he rolled on his back, he marveled at the rolls of baby fat that covered all his musculature.

Dammit all, he was an athlete.

He had borne weights greater than himself over miles of terrain and still won races. He was not one who cared what others thought, but if you asked anyone who he was they would say that he was a man who accomplishes things.
He would not let being imprisoned in this childish frame overcome him.

Whatever it took he would do it, and he would do it in record time.

Then again, what would record time be for something like this?

He was almost certain that this sort of thing had not happened to many, if any, others before him.

He chuckled, but it came out as a discomforting baby gurgle.

His anger made him want to curse, but all that came out was “Goo!”

With fire in his eyes he reached again for the leg of the chair.

If it killed him, he would stand.