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In the Beginning ...	By : KerwinLS Category: X-Men: (All Movies) > Slash - Male/Male > Logan/Kurt Views: 1298 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Men, nor do I own the characters from it. I make no money from the writing of this story.

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AND GOD SAW EVERYTHING THAT HE HAD MADE . . .

"Since ve have agreed that ve vill do some shopping today, I vould like to see this Marine Specialties store, for one thing," I said, holding up a brochure as I sipped my first cup of coffee.

"That would be a good place to start, if we must go shopping," Logan said, clearly resigned to the inevitable. "It's a real interesting place; kind of an army/navy surplus store on steroids. Was originally a fishing shed, but now it's got an incredible assortment of stuff, from clothing to knives and marine supplies. Great place to browse, and popular with the locals also, since there are often some very low prices."

"Then ve shall go there first," I said decisively.

The weather was nice, so we walked into town on Commercial Street, which wasn't as crowded today, being a Monday instead of a weekend. We passed many stores along the way, some not yet open this early in the year. But enough of them were open for business and were very tempting.

One of them was called Toys of Eros. I couldn't help stopping for a moment to see the display in the window.

http://www.yelp.com/biz_photos/toys-of-eros-provincetown?select=nbqdJD2gktspY1RMAcOsqw#nbqdJD2gktspY1RMAcOsqw

"This looks very -- interesting."

"Yeah, it is. Very high quality sex shop. Nothin' sleazy about it, that's for sure. Wanna go in?"

"Not now. Maybe after ve see this Marine Specialty store. I am hoping it vill have a good selection of handsome young Marines for us to choose from."

Logan laughed. He knew I was kidding, since he didn't even bother to correct me.

Shortly after that, we reached our assigned destination. Even the displayed items out by the street were fascinating, but once we got inside, I just stared around, trying to remember to keep my mouth from sagging open in surprise.

http://www.ptownarmynavy.com/about.html

There was almost everything one could imagine, from plastic toothbrush holders in bins to an old-fashioned diving suit hanging from the ceiling. Life preservers from long-gone ships decorated the walls, while a torpedo hung from a beam overhead. Old military uniforms rubbed shoulders with modern raincoats and sweaters. Shells and fishnets, minerals and glass hearts, candles and lanterns, hats of all kinds, cheap souvenirs made in China alongside old glass bottles.

All the way in the back, there was a real nautical supply shop, along with a glass case full of knives of all kinds and descriptions. I could not resist inspecting the merchandise; sharp shiny things have always caught my attention.

"Mein Gott!" I exclaimed. "A Nazi SS dagger!"

Logan came up behind me and glanced down at the knife display. "No, that's the SA, not the SS. The handle of an SS dagger would be black, not brown. And look at the motto on the blade: 'Alles für Deutschland' -- 'Everything for Germany'. If it were SS, it would say 'Meine Ehre heißt Treue' -- 'My honor is loyalty'."

He shook his head, still staring down at the glass case. "I always thought that if your honor was defined by your loyalty, then you damn well ought to be very careful what you choose to be loyal to."

When I didn't reply, he looked up at me. "Kurt? What's wrong? Why are you staring at me that way?"

I tried to shake off my astonishment. "Sprichst du Deutsch?"

"Nein." A funny look crossed his face. "Uh - ich weiß nicht - I mean, I don't know. When I looked at that dagger, I just knew what it meant."

"But you also understood vhat I just said vhen I asked if you spoke German."

"Um - yeah, I guess I did." He frowned. "Maybe I used ta know it and it just comes back to me now and then."

"It is not a language that is much studied in America or Canada these days."

Logan shrugged.

So I persisted. "You must have learned it somevhere."

"I've got lots of gaps in my memory. Maybe this is one of them. If I was ever in Germany, I could have picked some of it up there. I'm real good at languages. I'm even fluent in Japanese, which is usually pretty hard for a Westerner to learn."

"But this is vonderful! Ve could practice. Maybe you vill remember more!" I was excited by now. Switching into rapid German, I started to tell him how much I have missed being able to speak to someone in my native tongue and how much I would appreciate such a thing.

He held up a hand. "Whoa there, buddy! You lost me after the first couple a' words. If I ever knew the language, I sure wasn't that fluent."

"Sorry. I got carried avay. I vill go slower."

He glanced around. "This isn't the place for a long discussion about language. We'll talk about it later, OK?"

It was only then that I noticed people were staring at us.

"Ja. Let us go," I replied quietly and calmly. "It is time for lunch anyvay."

After we had eaten, Logan asked if I liked to look at the gravestones in old cemeteries, since there was one dating back almost to the days of the Pilgrims.

"I have never done that, but it does sound interesting. But vhat about all those other stores?"

"We've got the rest of the day for that. C'mon. The cemetery's not far from here."

Indeed, it wasn't far at all. Just beyond Bradford Street and not far from the center of town, we found ourselves surrounded by flat slabs of gravestones dating from the 1700's.

"Ah, this is the graveyard ve saw from the Monument!"

"Yep. This is the old section. There's a modern part up over there." He pointed away from the Monument. "C'mon, let's take a look around. I get a kick out of some of the names folks had in those days."

As in many old graveyards, there was a predominance of infants’ and children's headstones, due to the many infectious diseases of childhood that have been virtually eliminated in modern days. There were also a goodly number of men who had died in old age and had several wives buried nearby. I guess childbirth also took its toll on the women back then.

I followed Logan up a slope that looked over the cemetery toward the Monument. He sat down at the edge of the slope, which turned out to be the top of a mausoleum, which was built into the hill beneath us. I settled down next to him, dangling my feet and my tail over the edge.

We sat there for a time in silence. Finally, I could stand it no longer.

"So, vhat about the German? How much do you know?"

He shook his head. "I'm not sure. Like I said earlier, beyond a certain point in time, I don't remember a lot of things from my past. However, I do know I've spent much of my life as a soldier, which isn't surprising, considering my claws and how easy it is for me to kill. I never got all the details from William Stryker, but he told me that much. I've got some vague recollections of being in both World Wars, and serving in Germany, so I've likely been exposed to the language then. Maybe I spent some time behind enemy lines, as a spy or maybe a prisoner. If so, I could have picked up a lot of common words and phrases used in ordinary conversation."

"True. Maybe that is it." An uneasy feeling ran through me at the thought of Logan being in my homeland during the Second World War. What if he saw the Nazi extermination camps? What would he think of my country if he had? But that's nonsense. Whether he saw such things in person or not, our national shame is known to all the world now. It is certainly not a secret, nor should it be. Of course, the Nazis did not invent genocide, nor are they the only ones to practice it, but they have become a sort of an archetype representing heartless, efficient mass murder.

Contrary to what some people think, Jews were not the only victims. There were many others slaughtered in those days. Gays, gypsies, communists, mutants, political dissenters, the mentally ill, to name a few.

More than once, I have wondered if I had been alive at that time, whether I myself might have -

No, surely not! I would not have been a Nazi. Being what I am, it was never even a possibility.

But still, if I had been alive then and I was not a mutant, faced with these choices, what would I have done? Would I have had the courage to oppose the Nazis? What if I had --

"Earth to Kurt. Come in, Kurt. I'm tryin' to talk to ya."

"Entschuldigung," I replied, snapping back to the present reality.    "Vhat you said made me think of something."

He gave me a crooked grin. "Made me think of something also, and not something good."

I waited for an answer, and it came eventually. Staring out over the tombstones, he said softly, "What if I know so much German because I was a Nazi?"

"Mein Gott! That cannot be!"

"But I can't know for sure. There are so many dreams and half-formed memories, some of them - some of them of piles of emaciated bodies, starving prisoners behind barbed wire. How can I tell?"

"Those memories could just as easily come to you if you had been involved with liberating one of the concentration camps, rather than being one of those folks running them," I pointed out. My own fears were as nothing compared to what he must be feeling. Although I have seen the photos, and even visited one of the memorial sites, I have never seen such horrors in person.

I put an arm around his shoulders, wanting to offer some comfort.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. At least I hope you're right."

"I am alvays right, mein Freund. I am German, and Germans are alvays right." My tone of voice clearly said I was kidding.

He gave a short laugh. "Except when they're wrong."

"Ja. And vhen ve are wrong, ve are very very wrong. But ve vould prefer to think that ve are alvays right."

"Dream on, ya damn Kraut. Dream on."

We laughed, and I thought the dismal mood had been broken.

I was wrong. He stared out again over the ancient cemetery, then up at the Monument, and gave a sigh.

"All right, buddy, I gotta say this. Like I just said, I don't know much about my past, not even how old I am. I don't know for sure what I was like or what I did before I lost my memory. Don't even know what happened to destroy it. But whatever I did, a lot of it wasn't anything nice."

"If you do not remember, how can you tell?"

"As you noticed when I nearly skewered you the other night, I have nightmares that aren't full of the crazy stuff normally in dreams. It's more like what they call flashbacks nowadays. They're too realistic and too familiar, as if memories are trying to surface, but can't quite do it while I'm awake."

"Ja, you have just told me that."

"Yeah. But sometimes it's not modern weapons that I'm carrying. It's old stuff, like maybe the American Civil War. I'm wearing a blue uniform, with the enemy in gray."

"You are serious?"

"Never more so, darlin'. But even when it seems to be in the past, it's not all heroics, like you might see in movies. It's killing and sometimes being killed myself. And there's usually another guy with me, someone who heals like I do and doesn't die." He shakes his head quickly, as if he could dislodge those images by doing so. "There are even some times when I see my hands and the blades aren't there, just long pointed bony spikes, more like real claws." After a quick glance in both directions to be sure no one else is around, he extends the blades in his right hand. "Ever since the things I saw at Alkali Lake and found out from Stryker, I know I wasn't born like this, since the adamantium was all done later on, but maybe those other claws were part of my original mutation, along with the healing factor."

I do not know what to say. Does me want me to ask, or would that be unwanted prying? I say nothing. If he wishes to elaborate, he will.

"I never told anyone except Professor Xavier what happened when we invaded the underground facility at Alkali Lake, after I went off by myself looking for Stryker. I knew he had the answers to some of my past, which is why I wanted to talk to him so badly. Prior to that, when I first went there to investigate the surface facility, I had found a room that closely resembled some of my strangest nightmare sequences and bits of memories that I had never even been sure were real. Being submerged in a tank full of fluid. Pain so horrible that just the memory of it was almost unbearable." He closed his eyes for a minute. "Anyway, there was that same tank that I remembered, even though the facility itself was clearly deserted."

Once again, I had no response. Even the mention of William Stryker's name sent a chill through me.

"Later on, when we returned, I located that underground room, but the tank now had a full vat of liquid adamantium next to it. Stryker was there, but he got away and left me with another mutant who was just as indestructible as I am and clearly under the influence of his drug. She was as deadly as she was beautiful, with fingernails that extended into adamantium claws. But her eyes looked like yours in the security tapes from the White House: pale blue. When I killed her, they changed back into their natural color, just as yours did, and I knew it hadn't been her choice to attack me, but rather Stryker's drug. When I saw the look of realization in her brown eyes, I wanted to cry. But there was no time for regret."

He turned to me. "I'm some kind of a man-made monster, Kurt. A killing machine. To quote something Stryker told me later on, 'You were an animal then, and you're an animal now. I just gave you claws'."

I shook my head in vehement denial. "No. You have told me you vere already a soldier even before that happened. The blades only made you better at it. They did not make you a monster."

He appeared totally flummoxed by my logic. "And this is supposed to reassure me?" he finally asked.

"Ja. Vhat you are is vhat you choose to be. No matter vhat Stryker did, you are still only vhat you choose to be. Like any mutant ability, it is up to you to use it for either good or evil. These blades, along vith the adamantium in your bones, only make you more dangerous, not more vicious. The choice is yours."

I took his hand and held it up in front of his face. "Does the metal in your body make you good or evil? Do these blades do your thinking? Or does your brain?"

"Sometimes I'm just not sure." He looked at me. "There's a crazy, nasty side of me that you haven't really seen yet. But I am sure of one thing. For some reason, you seem to bring out the better side of me."

"And that is a good thing, ja?"

"Yeah. But it means you ain't seein' all of me."

I looked him up and down appraisingly. "Maybe not. But I have seen a lot, and vhat I have seen, I like very much."

"Thanks, darlin'. But I'm tryin' ta warn ya about what else you're gonna find that maybe you won't like nearly so well."

I turned serious. "I know that and I appreciate the varning. I like vhat I have seen so far, and I do not just mean vith my eyes. I vill deal vith vhat I have not seen vhen it appears."

He seemed satisfied with that, but there was more I needed to say to him.

"Mein Freund, has it occurred to you that you may not have seen all there is of me either? Although I vill deny being a demon, I certainly cannot claim to be an angel."

"If you're gonna tell me you're an axe murderer, I'll tell you right now that I ain't gonna believe it for a minute."

"No, I am not an axe murderer, but it vas nothing but sheer luck that I did not murder the president of this country. If his bodyguard had not shot me, I vould have plunged that knife into his heart."

"That wasn't your fault. Stryker's drug -"

"Stryker's drug vas probably not as vell perfected as it vas later, or its hold on me vould not have been disrupted by the pain of a minor wound. You said you fought to the death with the female mutant. Did any of the wounds you inflicted on her free her from his control?"

"No. You're right. He must have improved it a lot, if it was able to control my opponent, not to mention a powerful telepath like Charlie."

"Charlie?"

"Professor Xavier. I used ta call him that to bug him."

"Oh."

Abruptly, he plunged his claws into the hard-packed earth next to his legs. "I just don't know, damnit!"

"There are things that ve may be better off not knowing."

Pulling his hand loose from the ground, he retracted the claws.

"I - I'd like to just sit here alone for a while and think things over, Kurt. If you don't mind."

"I do not mind. I vill go back to town and look at a few of those interesting shops I noticed earlier. Then I vill meet you back at the campground by suppertime. Vould that be good?"

"Yeah. Fine."

When I got back to our motor home, Logan was already there, making sandwiches. He seemed to be more at ease than he had been when I left him in the cemetery. Maybe it was just a mood brought on by those Nazi daggers. As for me, I was a bit nervous about what I had bought in town, since I didn't know how he might react to it. Maybe I shouldn't have gotten it, but I just couldn't resist the temptation.

"Hey, Kurt! Sit down. What do ya want, ham and cheese or turkey and lettuce? We got both."

I slid my shopping bag underneath the table as I sat down. "Turkey vould be good. Um - how about a beer to go vith it?"

"Comin' up, buddy."

Yes, he definitely sounded more cheerful. Maybe a beer or two would help me screw up my courage a bit.

After we ate, I reached under the table for my bag.

"I bought something I thought ve might vant to play vith. Vould you like to see it?"

I knew my face was probably turning slightly purple, as it always does when I blush, but I hoped he hadn't noticed.

"Uh-oh. Why do I get the feeling that you went into that fancy sex shop - what's the name?"

So much for hoping he didn't notice. Wordlessly, I held up the bag, so he could see the name of the shop emblazoned in gold letters on the black plastic bag.

"Toys of Eros. Yeah that's it."

"It has a lot of - interesting things, many of vhich are quite expensive. But this did not cost too much."

I took a plastic pouch out from the bag, opened it, and dumped the contents onto the table. I couldn't quite bring myself to meet his eyes, so I poked at the cuffs and woven straps with a finger. "This is called an under bed restraint system."

Logan looked at them, then picked up one of the straps and examined it closely.

"Kurt, these things wouldn't hold either of us. I could slice this stuff apart easily, and you -"

"- could just as easily port out of them. Das weiß ich. But that is not the point. These are toys to be played vith, and for that one is not supposed to escape. It is a game. You must use your imagination."

I gave him what I hoped was a tentative smile. He raised an eyebrow.

"Ya know, for someone who claims to be a good Catholic boy, you know about some pretty strange things."

"I - uh -- read a lot. It is possible to learn lots of things that vay, vhether or not one has ever experienced them in person."

"I suppose."

We were silent for a while, then Logan went on, "OK, I admit it, I'm not all that innocent about this game either. So who did you figure to be wearin' these things? You or me?"

I tried to sound very casual and offhand as I told him, "Me, to begin vith. After all it vas my idea to buy them."

"I could go with that," he replied, sounding relieved. "But don't think I can't play that game from the other side, if I'm in the mood. I don't always have to be on top, if you know what I mean. I can be flexible."

"I am very glad to hear that. Doing the same thing in the same vay can become boring."

"Yeah, that it can. Speaking of the same thing, you ready for another beer?"

"Ja, bitte."

The cuffs sat prominently in the middle of our kitchen table as we started on our second round of beer.

"So the long straps run under the mattress, right?" he finally asked.

"Ja. And the straps clip to the cuffs, once everything is in place."

Logan gave me a long look. "Ya really got this all figured out, didn't ya?"

I ducked my head, looked up at him from beneath my eyelashes, smiled, and nodded slightly.

He grinned, rather like a wolf eyeing his prey. Maybe I had bitten off more than I could chew? But I could not back out now.

"I think I'm gettin' some ideas about how to use these things. But remember, you gotta agree not to seriously try to get loose."

I nodded.

He thought about it a little more. "How about a gag?"

"Nein, I do not like that."

"Okay, but then you gotta pretend you're gagged and keep quiet. Deal?"

"Me? Be quiet?" I joked.

He was dead serious. "Yep."

"All right, it is a deal." After all, how bad could that be?

"Oh, I forgot. There is something else in the bag." I pulled out a black leather blindfold and held it out toward him.

"O - Kay," he said slowly, examining it. "Adjustable. Looks comfortable. You got anymore surprises in your black bag?"

"Nein. Das ist alles."

"Then how about you go get cleaned up while I give this some more thought?"

Swallowing the rest of my beer in a few gulps, I started stripping off my clothes as I ducked into our minuscule bathroom for a quick shower.

I had barely walked into the bedroom when Logan grabbed me and shoved me down on the bed on my back. Before I knew it, I was wearing the cuffs I had bought, my wrists secured near the top of the bed and my ankles near the bottom, with the blindfold over my eyes. I had just enough slack to turn over if I wanted to do so, but that was about it. I started to say something, but his hand was over my mouth before I could get a word out, reminding me I had agreed to be silent.

"All right, matey," he said, with a deliberately gruff voice that I almost didn’t recognize as Logan’s. "I expect ye to be still and let me figure out just what ye may be afore I decide what to do with ya. Ye should be grateful that I didn't leave ya on that slave ship we plundered, so if ye've got a brain in that head of yours, ye'll cooperate.

"My men tell me ye fought like a wildcat and screeched some incomprehensible gibberish at them, so they had to tie and gag ye like this. Do ye understand what I'm sayin'? No, don't talk, just nod your head if you do."

I nodded shortly and curled my lip back into a sneer, trying to give the impression of a brave and defiant captive.

"Ah, good! Much better to have a prisoner who knows what's bein' said. Easier to deal with. Ye should be glad of your strange appearance, because the only thing that saved you from remaining on that slave ship was my curiosity.”

I could almost feel his eyes raking lewdly over my naked body.

"And just what might ye be, eh? I would have said some sort of devil, except that ye've got no horns and devils are supposed to be red, not blue. Ye've certainly got a devil's tail, though."

A hand grasped the end of my tail, but I yanked it out of his grip. I could feel his breath as he leaned over me and grasped it again, this time closer to the base, squeezing just a little too hard to be comfortable.

"Ye don't pull away from me if I want to touch ye, devil. Keep that in mind, or I'll hurt ya worse. Understand?"

I nodded and let my tail go limp. He released it, then ran a finger down my chest. "And all these designs carved into your hide. I've seen that sort of thing on savages from many lands, but never this particular style. And your eyes. They could as easily reflect the fires of Hell as the glories of Heaven. How can I be sure which it is, monster?"

Obviously, I could not answer, as I was supposed to be gagged.

"And why should the likes of me even care whether you're a devil or an angel, eh? The Gates of Heaven are already closed for me. So what shall I do with ye, now that I've taken ye captive, hmm? Ye're not a bad lookin' specimen of a man," he concluded. I imagined his eyes on my cock, which was definitely starting to show an interest in what was going on. "Maybe I can find a good use for ye, after all. But first, I intend to inspect this tail more closely. Turn over."

When I just lay there, he grabbed one shoulder and tried to force me to turn, but still I held my ground. "Or would ye rather I get out the cat-o-nine-tails and teach ya what it costs to disobey the captain?"

I rolled over, knowing full well how vicious that sort of a whip could be, since it had been used on me more than once on the slave ship. There was barely enough slack to allow me to turn over, but I managed it.

Again, his hand touched my tail, but I slithered it out of his grip and swiped him so hard with it that I could hear him hit the floor. After all, the only thing I had promised was not to teleport. I never said anything about fighting back.

The pirate captain was up and at me immediately. "Do that again, ye heathen bastard," he hissed in my ear, "and I'll slice the damn thing off. And maybe somethin' else along with it."

This time, I didn't resist when he took hold of my tail. He moved it around in different directions, while tracing the muscles moving beneath the surrounding skin with the fingers of his other hand, following the vertebrae in my spine down into my tail, and probing at the muscles around the base, almost as if he were trying to figure out how it was attached to my body, and how the bones and muscles worked.

Well, he certainly wasn’t the first person to be curious about that.

I had seen x-rays of my injured tail at the Mansion, so I had a very vivid picture in my mind of how it connects to my spine. On an ordinary human, the lower part of the spine turns into the fused and modified vertebral bodies of the sacrum, which fits closely against the sides of the two large pelvic bones to either side of it. Below those joints, a series of very small bones continue on to form the coccyx. The sacrum is normally somewhat tilted so that the top is slightly forward and the bottom backward. The coccyx, however, does just the opposite, curling in the other direction.

In me, and in most animals with tails, while the sacrum does tilt in that same direction, beneath it there is instead a continuation of my spine, becoming my tail, which continues downwards and backwards out of my body, rather than tapering down into a tiny and useless coccyx that curves inward. I also happen to have a lot more than the normal number of vertebrae in my spine, which adds considerably to my flexibility in general.

By now, my pirate captain was trying to trace the outlines of what I have just described, feeling for the much flatter ridge of my sacrum just above where my tail leaves my body and following it along to my tail itself, which I obligingly held as still as possible.

"Raise it up as high as you can," he ordered gruffly.

I obeyed, lifting my tail as far as it goes, which is only far enough to form a little more than a right angle with my back, except, of course, that the further it gets from the connection, the more of a curve it can describe, until it gets far enough that it can eventually coil into a tight loop as the individual bones become smaller and shorter.

There was something incredibly erotic about the feel of his hands on my tail. Normally, it is not so sensitive, except at the end. But this was different. The fantasy was becoming disturbingly real, especially since I could not see what he was doing. I was tied helplessly, at the mercy of someone I did not know. A pirate captain, clearly a dangerous man. I was a captive, as I had been the captive of the slavers, but they had mistreated me badly, laughing and taunting me, hurting me. For all that he was a pirate, he was not misusing me cruelly. Or at least, not yet.

He probed the area just below my tail, which is also just barely inside the cleft of my buttocks. As he reached that one certain spot between my tail and my anus, I sighed softly at the lovely sensation, but not softly enough to escape his notice.

"Oh, ye like that, do ye?" he demanded. "Is that as far as your tail can bend upwards?"

I nodded my head.

"Off to the sides. What angle can you make there?"

I demonstrated obediently, swishing it cautiously from one side to the other in order not to hit him and get him angry again. I was able to bring the section near the base somewhat closer to the sides of my pelvis than I could previously raise it toward the rest of my spine.

"Very interesting. And very tempting. Maybe I can put you to good use indeed, my devil." His hands reached around and underneath me, grasping my nipples as he pressed himself down on my back, pinning my tail off to one side in the process.

Suddenly overwhelmed with desire, my body arched, thrusting my chest forward against the hands that caressed me, my legs spreading open as far as the straps would allow them. His erection poked against my back. Still working my nipples, he thrust his hips harder down against me, so that his cock was now searching beneath my tail for that sensitive spot he had found earlier with his fingers.

But when he touched it, something inside me stirred uncomfortably. Yet again, I was restrained, unable to move or get away. Some part of my mind knew full well that I could escape easily if I wanted to, but something else insisted that I couldn't, I was caught, trapped by someone bigger and stronger than I was.

I tried to ignore it, even as my pirate captain’s hands moved around to grasp my hips, clearly ready to hold me in place if I didn’t cooperate.

A spike of fear struck through my mind. By now, I wanted desperately to feel his cock inside me, but some part of me very definitely did not.   Something hidden far deeper in my mind. Something already screaming and begging to be released.

"Ye're mine now," my tormenter said roughly.

That was enough to make me freak out completely, as the unacknowledged things inside my head just took over. Like a wild animal, I fought against being held, but I somehow couldn't remember how to teleport, so it was useless.

Suddenly, it was as if a door burst open into my own personal version of hell, where I had stored away and tried to forget things that I couldn't bear to remember.

I was helpless, tied or otherwise restrained, young and weak and at the mercy of my elders. Or was I drugged so that I could barely manage to think straight, much less concentrate enough to teleport, or worst of all, condemned without mercy to eternal damnation?

Jumbled images, sensations, faces snarling with hatred or twisted into mindless lust, mocking voices, cruel laughter.

Broken, shattered bits of what I recognized as my own memories.

A voice speaking to me in German.

"Hold still, my little devil-child. Hold still and accept this, or I'll make you very very sorry." And the pain as my child's body was used yet again to satisfy an adult's lust. And the confusion of the pleasure that often came along with the pain.

Another voice, more recently heard, and far more vicious.

"This one is trying to resist the drug. I'll give you three days to soften him up. I want him broken, no matter how you do it, but not badly damaged physically or he'll be useless to me. Use your imagination."

And the repeated vicious rape, that I could not prevent nor even get my mind to truly comprehend. More beatings and pain; orders which my drugged brain tried to resist obeying. I held out against the familiar pain, since it was something I had felt before.

And finally the catheter, which was forced roughly into me, so I could not help pissing on myself as my captors laughed and mocked me. The final indignity, as one of them emptied his own bladder into mine through that same catheter, while another filled my ass with his urine at the same time. That total loss of control sent me into a blank stupor, and I just did what I was told to do from then on, not caring.

Yet another voice, thunderous, booming, furious, overwhelmingly powerful.

"Thou shalt not lie with a man as with a woman. It is an abomination. Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire."

All this, in the flash of a second.

"Nein! Nein! No!" I heard myself screaming over and over, as my mind cleared enough to let me flip over and fight with teeth, feet, and tail against these monsters of my own conjuring.

By the time I gained control and stopped fighting, the blindfold had been knocked off and I could see Logan's blood dripping down his lacerated face and chest from where I had bitten him savagely during my struggles. I could only guess at the damage my feet and tail had done to the rest of him, but he still held me tightly. I squeezed my eyes closed and began to cry.

Gradually, I became aware of the words he was repeating over and over.

"It's all right. It's all right. Take it easy, darlin'. I ain't gonna hurt ya. Relax now. You don't have to cry. Take it easy. It's gonna be all right."

"I - I - " But the words wouldn't come.

"Don't say anything. Relax. Just be still, that's it. It's all right. You're OK. You can get away anytime you want."

"I know. But there was a time when I couldn't. I --"

Gott sei dank, he didn't ask about that time.

"Open your eyes. Look at me."

I forced my eyes open. The blood was still there, but the damage I had done was fading even as I watched. I took a shaky breath.

"I hurt you," I said, ashamed.

"Ya can't hurt me. I just heal. Remember? Stop it now. Everything's OK."

It took me a bit longer to fully absorb that, but I finally realized he was correct.

"Ya all right now?"

I nodded.

"Want me to let you loose?"

I nodded again. He released my wrists and ankles from the cuffs. When he started to move away, I wrapped my arms around him and held him down next to me. "No. Stay here."

"Ya sure?"

"Ja. Just hold me."

He did, letting me rest my head against his chest and stroking my hair with his free hand. "Wanna tell me what that was all about?"

I shook my head. "I cannot. I am not sure I know myself. It vas just blind panic."

"I wasn't gonna do that to you, ya know."

"Vhat do you mean?"

"What you thought I was gonna do when you freaked out. I was just playin' with ya." When I didn't answer, he continued, "I guess I shouldn't have, huh? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I fucked up."

"It is OK. The fault vas mine. A penis aimed at my ass does not really terrify me. I just - it brought back memories I thought I had put behind me."

Somewhere inside, I felt like crying again, but all I did was cling to him tighter. Despite everything, my body still desired him, so I was fairly hard. I felt his cock pressing against mine. I shifted my hips a little, trying to get more comfortably situated. He moved also, until we were pressed tightly together, his cock between my thighs and mine between his.

"I wasn't gonna force you," he said again.

"Ja. Das weiss ich," I admitted. "I do not think it vas you that I vas afraid of. It vas - something else."

"Um. Guess I can understand that. I've got enough of my own ghosts haunting my mind. No reason you can't have a few of your own, huh?"

He was still stroking my hair, running his fingers over it gently, as if he were petting a cat. "You're safe now, my fierce blue devil," he said jokingly. "But why didn't you just teleport away?"

"It vas as if I could not, or had forgotten how. Or maybe did not yet realize I could do it," I mused, puzzled.

His hand moved down from my head and across my back and shoulders, still petting me. It was immensely calming and immensely exciting at the same time.

"It was the restraints, wasn't it?"

"Vas?"

"You know. Being tied up so you couldn't get away. Forget the fact that you really could have gotten away. That's what set you off."

"Possibly," I replied, considering what he said.

"Maybe - bear in mind, I'm no shrink - but maybe all that was something that you needed to be reminded of, for some reason, and you knew it."

The memory of that overpowering Voice condemning me to Hell made me shiver. Was it really my conscience, reminding me of the sin I was wishing to commit? Or Someone even more powerful than my conscience? I shook my head in denial, even as I wondered if that could have been possible.

No, I would not believe that! If some part of my mind was trying to tell me something, I did not want to hear what it had to say.

"I'm all right now," I said firmly.

"Ya sure?"

"Ja, sicher, mein Piratenkapitän," I told him, grinning at him lasciviously.

"Very well then, creature. And be ye the darkest devil from Hell, I'll have ye, whether ye will it or not. Put up a fight again, and I'll see ye danglin' from the yardarm, instead of lyin' here in me bed."

My pirate captain was back again, and I was glad to see him.

He leered down at me, ordering gruffly, "Lie still," as his hand traveled over to my nipple and he started stroking it with his open palm.

I sucked in a short breath and let it out in a shaky sigh.

"Ya like that, don't ya, ye lusty monster?"

"Ummm."

I closed my eyes, as he leaned up and over my chest, replacing his hand with his mouth. My only response was to arch my back and moan. I know there are many men who do not enjoy having their nipples touched or handled at all, but I am not one of them. His mouth was alternately demanding, drawing me in and almost making it hurt, then easing off and doing nothing more than flicking the hard nub with the end of his tongue.

I have often wondered how it feels for a woman to have her breasts sucked. I could not imagine how it could possibly feel better than it did for me, but I do not know for sure. Perhaps, as with men, it varies according to the person. I'm sorry for those who cannot feel it, regardless of sex.

I could have come if he did nothing more than this, but it would take some time. Almost without my volition, my hand reached down for his half-hard penis.

The pirate swatted my hand away with a growl. Then he disentangled us rather abruptly, switching around so that his head was toward my feet and vice versa. Wrapping his arms around me, he rolled over, so that I was lying on top of him, staring down at his cock. His mouth engulfed my own organ, sucking as avidly on that as he had been on my nipple.

This was not a position I commonly used, although I have at times done it with both partners lying on their sides. Even so, I have never been able to take another man's penis into my mouth, since my fearsome teeth pose too big a hazard to the integrity of anything that might venture to invade that particular orifice. Nevertheless, I did the best I could with my hands, tongue, and lips, while he worked diligently on me.

It was all sensation now, with the fingers on one hand squeezing, feeling, rubbing the delicious length of his shaft, while my tongue coaxed his foreskin back further in order to lick the engorged cockhead. I played with his penis as if it were a toy, or perhaps a lollipop, enjoying the smooth moist skin against my tongue, the slight salty taste of pre-cum.

Bringing my other hand behind his scrotum, which was now pulled tight against his body, I ran a finger along the bulge beneath his perineum, where the root of a man's penis continues internally and attaches to the pubic bones. Too much pressure there can stop ejaculation, but just the right amount can be especially delightful.

Then Logan released my cock from his mouth and sucked my balls in to take its place. I almost pulled away, since this can be rather frightening if you don't expect it. But in a moment, I relaxed and went along with it. Very soon I wished I could be doing the same thing for him. Instead, I contented myself with wrapping a hand around both his cock and his balls, massaging both together.

Since we were rather tightly engaged, neither of us moved a lot, so we had time to simply enjoy the sensuous feel of what was being done to each by the other. For a brief moment, I faltered. Surely, this could no longer be considered quite in the same category as mutual masturbation?

But then, all I was doing was using my hands, and maybe my mouth a little, on him, and he was only using his mouth, not any other more meaningful body part. So maybe it would not qualify as true sex, I told my smoldering conscience, immediately banishing it from my thoughts. I had better things to think about at that moment, the foremost of which was holding back on ejaculating, as Logan had by now gotten his mouth around my cock again and I knew I wouldn't last much longer.

I wanted him to be more ready, so we could both come at least close to the same time. Without thinking, I took the finger that was stroking behind his penis and began working it around his anus. I had no lube handy, so I didn't really want to push it in, especially considering my fingernails. But I didn't have to, in order to obtain the desired result. He moaned, sucking even harder and drawing me fully down his throat, even as his cock started to quiver and jerk frantically.

I threw back my head and felt my body tremble as I shot my load down his throat. I am always surprised at how truly wonderful such a foolish thing as that can feel. Knowing Logan had to be close, I leaned down and covered the end of his cock with my lips, licking and tonguing him carefully, but keeping my teeth away from his cockhead.

As I enthusiastically sucked his cum into my mouth and swallowed all I could get, he moaned something that sounded like "Oh, fucking shit!"

Exhausted, I rolled off him and lay gasping on the bed.

Then something occurred to me rather later than it should have.

"Logan - uh - shouldn't ve have been using condoms for something like this?" I asked, as soon as I had caught my breath.

"With most people, yeah. But one of the many advantages of my healing factor is that I can't catch anything from you or anyone else without it being cured virtually instantly, so in return, I can't infect anyone else, no matter what we do." He grinned widely. "One might say that I am the personification of safe sex. The only thing anyone can get from me is pregnant, darlin'. And since you're clearly not a female, I don't think we have to worry about that, do we?"

"Wunderbar! I had not thought of that."

We fell asleep still rather stickily entwined. I woke up a couple of times during the night, but each time my conscience tried to protest, I told it to shut the fuck up and leave me alone. For that one night, I was the captive blue devil of a lusty pirate, and that was all I ever wanted to be.

I woke up to the sound of rain on the roof, with my back resting against Logan’s. It felt slightly itchy because of all the hair. I was not used to that, but it made me smile.

"You awake, Kurt?"

"Ja." I moved away and stretched luxuriously, as he rolled onto his back, clasping his hands beneath his head.

"Guess that fantasy didn't work out too well for us, did it?"

"It vas kind of fun, until I vent crazy on you," I said tentatively.

He smiled. "Good. I was enjoyin' it myself."

"You like to tie people up and rape them?"

"Huh? No, not for real. Fantasies aren't supposed to be taken literally. Why, half the time they aren't even possible or would probably not turn you on if you did it in real life."

"I - suppose you are right."

"The cuffs were your idea, ya know," he reminded me.

"Ja, they vere. I guess I do not mind if you enjoy imagining doing things like that to me."

"I'm glad. It can be a whole lot of fun, if it works out right." He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, then looked back at me with a broad smile. "Next time, I'll be more careful to make sure it works out right." He hesitated. "That is, if you want there to be a next time."

I had to consider that for a bit. What happened last night had been terrifying, but I had gotten over it. "Ja, I vould try it again. It might be fun."

"I was hopin' you would say that. Fantasies can be a whole lot of fun."

I could not resist a comeback. "I just hope it is alvays me you are fantasizing about, mein Freund."

"Well," he said slowly, appearing a little shame-faced, "sometimes I like to think about women. But if it's a guy, I promise it will almost always be you."

"Almost alvays?" I raised an indignant eyebrow at this, feigning more displeasure than I truly felt.

"Yeah," he came back, sounding dead serious. "We're not exactly married, ya know. And even if we were, I still figure our own private fantasies are allowed to be whatever we want them to be."

Finally, I granted him a smile. "Ja, they are. Besides, if ve ever do have a real relationship, I vould prefer it to be open rather than closed."

"You mean we'd be free to screw around with other people?"

"Ja."

"That wouldn't bother you any?"

"I thought that vas vhat I just said."

"Just makin' sure there was no misunderstanding, darlin'. That sort of thing can have its own problems."

"I know. But vould you not prefer it like that?"

"Honestly? I'm not sure. I have a tendency to be possessive about what's mine."

"Oh, so do I. I vould be possessive about vanting your love, but not so much about having the exclusive use of your body." I saw an unfamiliar expression on his face. "Have I gone too far, speaking of love vhen all ve are doing is having sex?"

"I'm - not sure. I'm not usually the romantic type."

"I am avare of that, and I do not expect romance from you." I looked at him coyly. "Sex is more than enough for now."

He was about to get up, but I wrapped my tail around his waist. "Do you really think I am a devil?"

"Nah. You look more like an elf."

"An elf? Since vhen am I an elf?!" I protested indignantly.

"Since now. That's what you remind me of."

"Hmph! An elf is a foolish little creature. I do not vish to be called such a thing."

"Haven't ya ever seen 'The Lord of the Rings'?"

"Vhat is this Lord of the Rings?"

"A movie."

I shrug. "And these elfs, are they also blue vith tails?"

"'Fraid not. The only things I've ever heard of that have a tail like yours are devils."

I sighed and unwrapped my tail so he could get up. "Sometimes I think I vas meant to be a devil but just ended up in the wrong place."

"No, darlin'. You're in the right place now." He leaned back around and kissed the top of my head. "Besides, if those elves don't have tails, that's just so much the worse for them. They're tall, slender, gorgeous-looking, and they have pointy ears. Just like you."

All my life, for obvious reasons, I have been called a devil. But this man calls me an elf. And a gorgeous elf at that.

"Oh. Vell, in that case --" I smiled broadly, giving him a good look at my equally pointy teeth, "-- I vill not mind if you vish to call me that."

Logan got up and glanced out the small window in our bedroom.

"Looks like it's gonna rain on and off all day, like the NOAA weather forecast predicted. Not very good for outdoor activities."

"I had hoped ve could go to that Glass Museum today. That vould be indoors."

He shook his head. "Yeah, but we'd have almost an hour's ride on the bike just to get there. Could be done, but not as safe as on a clear day. And not nearly as comfortable. Maybe we should do some other stuff, like our laundry. They have washers and dryers available here at Coastal Acres. Me, I'm just about down to wearin' dirty clothes, or buying some new ones. How about you?"

"Same for me. I could not take everything I vould have, since ve vere traveling by motorcycle. And if ve vere to buy more clothes, how vould ve get them home?"

He shrugged. "Send them by mail. Same as we'd do if we'd bought a lot of stuff when we went shopping."

"I had not thought of that. Now I can buy more souvenirs!"

"Uh -- yeah -- I guess. If you want. So how about the laundry after breakfast?"

"Uh -- yeah -- I guess," I answered, using the same tone of resignation he had used when referring to more souvenirs.

An hour later, we sat in the laundry room, listening to the drip of rain on the roof and reading leftover magazines. By the time everything was done, the rain had stopped, but it was still chilly and overcast, with the dark clouds holding the threat of more rain quite literally over our heads. I sighed unhappily.

"After we get our stuff put away," Logan suggested, as we hurried back to the motor home with our clean laundry, "we could at least take a walk into town, if you're willing to take a chance on getting soaked. We could go to the town library and check our email or whatever on their computers."

I guess I didn't look too enthusiastic about that, because he added nonchalantly, "There's a half-scale replica of the Rose Dorothea at the library, you know. She was a famous fishing schooner. Won some kind of a big race, in the old days."

"There is?! Vhy did you not tell me that first?"

"Just wanted to build up the suspense, darlin'. I take it you want to go, huh?"

"Aber natürlich! And ve could get some lunch vhile ve are in town also, nicht wahr?"

"Sure. But wear some warm clothes, and we'll take the ponchos too, just in case. I have a feeling these clouds aren't ready to give up just yet."

They weren't. By the time we got to the library, we were already quite damp, despite the dubious protection of our plastic ponchos and my attempts to port us as far as I could to keep us dry. We took the ponchos off and stuffed them into Logan's knapsack just inside the library door.

"Vhere is the Rose of Dorothy?" I asked him eagerly.

"Rose Dorothea. Second floor. Up those stairs over there. I'm gonna go see if we can get the use of a computer for a time. There's probably a small fee or something."

"I vill be upstairs."

"I'll come get you when I'm done and you can check your email too."

http://www.provincetown-ma.gov/index.aspx?NID=690

http://www.flickr.com/photos/chailey/3590849540/in/photostream/

Seeing a sailing vessel on the second floor of a building was unusual enough, but this one had the masts sticking up into holes that had been cut into the ceiling and a bowsprit that poked into an anteroom. Curved bookshelves and display tables curved along either side of the hull, while the usual crowded shelves one would expect in a library ran along the walls of what was apparently the Children’s Room.

I wandered around the ship, inspecting the old-fashioned rigging and reading whatever I could find about the Rose Dorothea herself. It took great self-control for me not to port up onto the deck, but I had a feeling such behavior would be frowned upon rather sternly, so I restrained myself.

It wasn’t too long before Logan joined me there, asking if I wanted to check my own email, now that he was finished with his.

As we headed for the stairs, he noticed a photograph on the wall. Tapping it with his finger, he told me, "Look. This is the guy responsible for overseeing the building of the model."

I studied the picture and the short blurb that accompanied it. "His name vas Flyer? Vas he a mutant who could fly?"

"'Fraid not. But he was one heck of a character, that's for sure."

"You knew him?"

"Yeah, a little." He smiled fondly at the thought of the old man in the picture.

“This Flyer must have been an interesting man.”

“That he was, Elf. That he was.”

It didn’t take me long to check my email, so we were soon on our way out of the library.

"That was quick,” Logan remarked. “Not much mail?"

"Nein. I am not very good at email. It is too hard to type that much, vith my fingers. I vill never be a touching typist, that is for sure."

"Touch typist, Elf."

"That is the second time you have called me Elf as if it is my name."

"Ya mind? I like calling people by various names."

"Shall I now start calling you Claws?"

"Uh - well, maybe that wouldn't be such a good idea. Look, if ya really don't like the Elf bit, I won't do it. Okay? Maybe I can think of something else." He gave me an evil grin. "How about Misfit? Or maybe just Blue?"

"I think - I really do not mind if you just stick to Elf. After all, it is much better than many other things I have been called. Or could be called," I added with a meaningful glare. "However, it may take some time for me to get used to it. Elf is also the German vord for eleven, and I am not used to being called by a number."

Logan laughed.

By the time we got back, we were damp and I was chilly, so I stripped off my soggy clothes and headed for our shower. I had just gotten the water nice and hot and was in the middle of washing my hair, when Logan stepped into the shower stall next to me. There was hardly room for one of us, much less two, but he didn’t give me time to object. Before I knew it, his hands had replaced mine and he was scrubbing my hair. As I tilted my head back to rinse out the shampoo, he began to soap up the rest of me, back and front and down my legs, slowly and thoroughly. Then he started on my tail, using both hands and lots of soap.

The water ran over us and between us, hot enough to create quite a bit of steam in the chilly bathroom. He was as thoroughly soaked by now as I was, the thick hair on his chest and back clinging to his skin in dark streaks, his cock and balls hanging heavily down between his legs.

As his hands continued to stroke my tail, he said, "Ya know, Elf, you could make a lot more use of your tail than you usually do."

"Vhat do you mean?"

"Well, if I had a tail like that, I could think of lots of ways it would come in handy at - uh - certain times. I'm surprised you haven't thought of that already."

"I have had -- a few bad experiences with that sort of thing in the past."

"Really? What happened?"

A brief thought flashed across my mind, the memory of being punished for what was called a Tail Infraction, when I was very young. But I did not even want to remember that, much less tell it to Logan, so I only told him half of the truth.

"Sometimes I have scared people out of my bed by using my tail at the wrong time."

"Well, ya won't scare me that way, pal. I like your tail. In fact, I wouldn't mind havin' one myself."

"Really? Then I vill keep that in mind."

By then, I was rinsed clean, cozy and warm under the stream of water. And my cock was beginning to stiffen from the sensation of his hands caressing my tail, which was now quivering with anticipation.

Without a word, Logan pushed me gently back so that I was leaning against the side of the shower stall, knelt in front of me, and took my cock into his mouth almost before I knew what he was doing. The water hitting me on the chest and sluicing down through my fur only added to my arousal.

I closed my eyes and enjoyed the various sensations that were bombarding me, my tail automatically curling around behind his back and slithering around over the wet flesh. The under surface of most of my tail plus the flat part of the barbed end massaged his back and ass. It must have felt as good to him as it did to me, because he arched his body and sucked even harder.

I didn’t ever want it to end, so incredibly much pleasure was it giving me to feel the sensual slide of my tail rubbing over him. I had never sought to use my tail like this, just caressing and rubbing the under surface across something. Combined with the beating of the water on the upper surface, I’d have been totally aroused even if he hadn’t had his mouth around me.

I slide the tip between his thighs, edging past his tight balls and going far enough to get a rather clumsy coil around his cock.

At the same time, I grabbed his head and pulled it roughly into my groin, coming into his mouth in several hard spasms. In much too short a time, it was over. I let go of him. He immediately freed his mouth, clutched my hips with both hands and gasped, “Don’t stop!”

I realized my tail was still pressed hard against his back and wrapped around his cock. I didn’t stop what it was doing until he emptied himself into the steaming water that ran down between us, as I watched, entranced by the sight and sensation of what my tail seemed almost determined to do on its own.

When I released him, he stood up and stared at me from unfocussed eyes. I took the soap and started rubbing it over him. It washed off almost as soon as I put it on, but that was good enough.

“Vas that the sort of thing you had in mind for my tail, mein Freund?” I asked, with what was probably a very wicked grin on my face.

“Not exactly, but close enough.” He shook his head, flinging even more water around, then turned off the shower. “Let’s get out of here before we both dissolve, huh?”

We spent the rest of that day reading and watching a few TV shows, as the rain continued on and off to remind us of its presence by beating on our roof. I finished most of the book I had bought about the pirate ship, while Logan read a copy of the “Men’s Journal” that he had taken from the laundry room.

The following morning was still gray, but it was an intermittent drizzle, no longer a series of downpours.

"Weather forecast is for it to clear up later on this morning,” Logan announced. “If that happens, we'd have time to head to the Glass Museum this afternoon. It's only about an hour's ride, and we could stop for lunch along the way. Sound good to you?"

"Ja, very good."

"All right then."

"So vhat shall ve do in the meantime?"

"How about the same thing we did yesterday?"

"But I do not need a shower yet."

"I wasn't talkin' about the shower, Elf. I was talkin' about what we did in the shower."

"Oh. Ja, ve could do that," I agreed.

So we did.

The rain cleared up on schedule, and the sun came out, drying off the roads by the time we had planned to leave. The motorcycle ride was uneventful. Maybe it only seemed to take a longer time than Logan had claimed because I wanted so much to see this museum.

Logan had parked the bike in the lot and we were headed to the entrance when he nudged me in the ribs.

"Now try to behave yourself this time and don't go porting around in here, okay? You might cause some damage with all this fragile glass stuff."

I gave him an indignant look. "I vould not break anything. I am not that clumsy."

"I know, but if you scared the other folks, that might cause a panic. It's going to be pretty crowded in here as it is and -"

"How do you know?" I interrupted.

"Just look at all these tour buses in the parking lot. That means lots of tourists, usually senior citizens, are inside the museum already. They'll all be from off Cape. We're not in P'town anymore, Toto. These folks may not be so used to mutants."

"Oh. Du hast recht. I vill be careful."

http://www.sandwichglassmuseum.org/

As is often the case, Logan was right. It was very crowded. For some strange reason though, everyone seemed very willing to leave plenty of room for the two of us to wander through the various display rooms, which was very courteous of them.

There was a glass-blowing demonstration already going on, so we decided to look through the other exhibits first, then come back later. A pair of animated exhibits set in two small darkened rooms side by side caught our attention. In each room, a character from the past told his or her story in a video, while tying their stories to a display of objects made at the glass factory.

As we walked out of the room, I told Logan, "That vas very sad, about how the lady lost her husband so young and then had to go on living vithout him for all that time. But it vas good that she knew how to navigate their ship back home herself. She must have been an extraordinary voman!"

"Yeah," was all Logan said in reply.

We went into the adjoining room, where there was a wonderful exhibit of glass objects all set out on transparent shelves in front of a long window. Transfixed by the sight of sunlight streaming through all that colored glass, I sat down on a bench in order to admire it. Logan sank down next to me, but he seemed to be preoccupied, as if he were lost in thought somewhere, and those thoughts were not pleasant. I almost asked him what was wrong, but then it occurred to me that he might be comparing himself to that young captain's wife, doomed to live on for so very many years without the one she loved.

I didn't ask if I was right or not. I just let him sit there in silence beside me for a while, until he brightened up a bit.

Further on, at the exhibit of modern glasswork, there was a beautiful large rainbow vase made of dichroic glass. I had never heard of that before, but it was quite striking. As you move around, the colors appear to change as the light reflects at different angles.

I stood there transfixed by the vase, until Logan asked, “What is it with you and colored glass, Elf? I mean, I get that it looks really pretty and all, but you seem almost hypnotized by the stuff.”

“I am not really sure. It just makes me feel good somehow. In Europe, I vas alvays fascinated by the old churches and cathedrals with their stained glass vindows. Vhenever the circus vas in a city that had such buildings, I vould go there if I could. Alvays I vas disguised as an ordinary person.”

“You can really get away with that?”

“Enough to fool the general public, yes. But I did get some very suspicious looks, especially vhen I vas all covered up by my clothing in the middle of the summer heat.”

“So why didn’t you just go out at night, and port into the buildings you wanted to see when they were empty?”

“Stained glass vindows do not look so beautiful from the inside at night.”

“If the church is lighted up inside, they show up pretty good from the outside.”

“It is not the same as sunlight coming in from outside, filling the relatively dark interior with the rich colors of the glass. Besides, I vished also to go to the services that vere held, since most of those churches were Catholic.”

“Guess I’ll have to take your word for it. Haven’t spent a lot of time in churches. At least not so far as I can remember.”

“I do not know how to explain it any further. I can almost feel the glory of those incredibly rich and radiant colors flowing into my soul and filling me with joy. Of course, it is not the same if it is just a fancy candlestick or an elaborate bowl catching the light from a vindow, but even that pale reflection makes me vant to smile.”

“Let’s go have a look at the glass blowing demo, huh? There should be another one starting up about now.”

There was, and it was most interesting. Of course, I have seen glass blowing before, but this was excellently done and explained. And instead of the usual little knickknacks, the lady made an old-fashioned vase. Then she spoke about pressed glass, which was quite popular in the 1800’s, and also cheaper to produce. There was a press in the demonstration area, and she asked for a volunteer from the crowd to help with the demo. Everyone in the audience was very shy, so I raised my hand. All I had to do was pull down a large lever so that the molten glass was pressed into a mold. I am pretty sure that I was the first volunteer to pull the lever with my tail. A few of the watchers giggled, and several applauded my efforts, which was very gratifying. The lady gave me one of the items that had been pressed earlier in the day and were now sufficiently cool to handle as a memento.

“Show off,” Logan muttered as I returned to my seat.

“I could not help it.” I held up the round green suncatcher with a traditional dolphin candlestick on it. "Look. This is just like the one I bought with the Pilgrim Monument on it. Now I have two of these to hang in my vindow!"

Our motorcycle ride back to the campground was uneventful.

We went to a restaurant called Bayside Betsy’s for dinner. It was right on the waterfront, so there was an excellent view of the harbor from our table.

http://baysidebetsys.com/events.html

There were many delicious-sounding items on the menu, but I don’t remember what I had. There was a very good reason for that, but I am a bit ashamed to tell you about it. You see, they were having a sale on flavored Margaritas, and I made the mistake of ordering one. It was so good that I ordered another. And that was even before our meal arrived.

“You sure you can handle that much liquor?” Logan asked.

“Of course. I am German. I grew up drinking beer.”

“This ain’t beer, Elf. It’s a lot stronger. Keep on like this and I’m gonna hafta carry you home.”

“I have not drunk any more than you have.”

“True. But your body doesn’t work the way mine does. Alcohol is essentially a kind of poison, so it tries to heal me. I can drink anyone under the table and barely even feel it.”

“I am not under the table,” I objected.

“Maybe not. But ya will be, before much longer.”

“Nein. I am fine.”

I drained the rest of my margarita and ordered another, as Logan shook his head in dismay, muttering something about the sweet flavor being deceiving and I should watch out.

Apparently, I did not watch out carefully enough, because I was already staggering as we left the restaurant.

“Logan, I do not think I can valk all the vay to the campground.”

“Sure ya can. It’s not that far.”

“No. I vill port us there.”

“Maybe you’d better not do –”

But he was too late. In an instant, we were somewhere else. But that somewhere else was not our home sweet home. Not only that, but a sudden attack of nausea overcame me as soon as we got there. I collapsed onto my knees in the sand and promptly started retching.

“Aw shit!” Logan exclaimed, putting an arm around my shoulders and holding me upright while I threw up my dinner.

When I had finished, I looked around woozily. We were just off the side of a road, with not much in sight except sand and bushes. I was still on my knees and my stomach was less than happy.

I finally got up the strength to say, “Vhere are ve?”

“You kinda overshot the runway, Elf. I’d say this is Route 6, not far from Herring Cove Beach.”

I struggled to my feet, grabbing Logan’s arm for support. My head was spinning, which is not a sensation I am used to. “I vill try again –”

“No, ya won’t! In the state you’re in, you might land us inside a sand dune. We’ll just walk.”

I was still far from sober, but he was right. I just nodded.

He pulled my arm over his shoulder, and wrapped his arm around my waist.

“C’mon. Let’s go.”

Much to his credit, he never said “I told you so.”

The further we went, the better I began to feel, but the alcohol was still affecting my brain.   When we reached Bradford Street, I started singing all the verses I could remember of “What Shall We Do With a Drunken Sailor?”, including putting him in a longboat until he’s sober, putting him in the scuppers with a hosepipe on him, shaving his belly with a rusty razor, putting him in the bilge and making him drink it, and finally tying him to the taffrail when we’re yardarm under.

By the time I had finished several enthusiastic repetitions, we were home. Logan let us in and dropped me down into the chair near the door. I was just getting comfortable and about to doze off when he shook me, asking insistently, “Elf, what in blazes did that last verse mean? I could make some sense outta the rest of it, but that bit about the taffrail left me puzzled.”

So nothing would do but that I must wake up enough to answer him. After persuading my brain to concentrate on it, I could only come up with one answer. “I do not know. But it does not sound very good, does it?”

“Gahh!” he said in disgust.

“Now leave me alone and let me sleep.”

“Spoilsport!” he retorted. “And here I got you a lovely present and you don’t even want to know what it is.”

“Present?” I repeated blearily. “Vhat present?”

“Oh nothing you’d be interested in, I guess.” He turned away and started walking toward the bedroom door.

“Nein! Tell me!”

“Well, okay, if you insist. But I’m not going to let you play with it tonight. You’re too soused to be able to appreciate it fully.”

“I am not soused. Look here! I can even stand up.” And I could, although somewhat unsteadily.

“Hmph! I’ll bet you couldn’t even walk a straight line.”

“Hmph yourself! I could valk a straight line if I vere sound asleep.” I proceeded to demonstrate, and did a very good job at it.

“All right, you got me there. C’mon in here and I’ll show you the present.”

I followed him into the bedroom, sitting down on the bed.

"I know how much you like colored glass stuff, Elf, so I figured you’d like this.” He took a bag out of the closet and handed it to me. “I bought it at Shop Therapy the other day.”

"Oh, you mean that store vith all the hippie clothing?"

"Yeah. The second floor is full of sex toys."

"I did not know there vas a second floor."

http://www.shoptherapy.com/

“There is. Not as classy as Toys of Eros though. Go on, open it.”

It was a standard butt plug in a medium size, but it was made of swirled blue and purple glass, light enough in color to be translucent.

“It is lovely! If only I vere not so exhausted --”

“You’re not exhausted, darlin’. You’re drunk.”

“Vell, maybe a bit tipsy. Those margarets vere much stronger than I expected.”

“Margaritas. And you didn’t have to have four of them, you know.”

“They tasted so good.”

“Famous last words, buddy.”

I gave him a lop-sided grin and nodded.

“Okay, okay, we’ll just go to sleep. But first I’ll show you one of the things I like to do with this kind of toy.”

“But you said we’d go to sleep,” I objected.

“And we will. Trust me. Come on, get ready for bed.”

I was pretty much beyond caring about whatever it was that he had in mind, but bed sounded good.

It only took a few minutes for me to get out of my clothes, wash up, and settle down under the quilt. Logan joined me as my eyelids were happily drooping closed. His arms wrapped around me and I curled up against his warmth, his hand stroking my neck.

“This is one of my favorite things, but I usually have to do it to myself. You just relax and keep your tail out of the way and I’ll show you.”

“I vant to sleep,” I objected again.

“And so you will. Do as you’re told.”

His hand moved down to my shoulders.

“Umm. Nice,” I murmured.

By the time he reached my tail, I was halfway asleep. But I was fairly sure where he was going from there, so I resisted the temptation to drift off.

His fingers barely grazed that sensitive place just beneath my tail before traveling further down, still gently caressing and massaging my asshole. For a brief moment, the fingers disappeared, only to return slick and greasy with lube.

“Oh, ja,” I said sleepily, as he carefully pushed a finger into me.

“Now, now, darlin’, don’t get all excited. I’m just makin’ sure you’re ready for the butt plug. Nothing’s gonna happen until much later on tonight. We need our beauty sleep, remember?”

I could have made a sarcastic remark about that, but I was far too drowsy to bother. When the tip of the plug replaced his finger, I knew what he was going to do. I sighed and allowed myself to go limp. At room temperature, the glass felt cool and pleasant against me.

“That’s it. I’m just gonna put this plug in place, and then it’s off to beddy-bye for my favorite drunken sailor. Later on, I expect you’ll wakeup horny as a three-balled tomcat, from sleeping with this inside you. It works for me every time.”

“I have never seen a three-balled tomcat, mein Freund. Is such a thing possible?”

“Naw. Just an expression.”

I knew he was right about the butt plug, since I am no stranger to sleeping with such a thing up mein arschloch, but I didn’t bother to tell him that. I just enjoyed the sensation of being stretched and then closing down on the stem again, once the plug is in place.

His lips brushed my forehead and he whispered, “Geh schlafen. Wake me up later, when you’re ready for some action.”

“Umm-hmm,” was about all I managed to say before relaxing against his chest and falling asleep.

The lighted alarm clock next to the bed showed 3:23 when I awoke again. It took only a few moments of awareness to realize why I was so aroused. But once I did, I deliberately intensified the sensation by rhythmically tensing and relaxing around the satisfying weight of the glass plug, making it shift slightly where it pressed against that sweet spot inside.

Logan was fast asleep on his back next to me. Instead of waking him directly, I slid one hand carefully underneath the quilt, not touching him until I knew I was in the area of his groin and then only very lightly, wanting to get my hand around the warm mass of his soft cock and balls. Even then, I just held him, exulting in the feel of the now-warm glass he had bought just to provoke this response in me.

I don’t know how long I stayed there like that, feeling the slow rise and fall of his chest as he breathed and watching the dim silhouette of his face.

Finally, I could stand it no longer. Nuzzling the quilt down from his chest, I began licking the exposed nipple, first gently, then harder and more insistently, until I had drawn it entirely into my mouth and begun sucking hard, at the same time squeezing and massaging his captive sex until I could feel it hardening in my hand.

“So, Elf,” he said lazily, “I take it you’re awake now, huh?”

My only reply was to carefully touch the tips of my sharp teeth to his hard nipple.

“I’ll take that as a yes, darlin’. C’mere.” His arms wrapped around me, pulling me into a tight embrace then rolling me on top of him, he slid me up so that his mouth could clamp onto one of my nipples, while one hand slid over my ass, one finger touching that sensitive spot beneath my tail and the others pressing against the base of the butt plug, rocking it slightly back and forth.

Arching my chest against him, I threw back my head and gasped loudly, as I shot my load between our straining bodies.

He chuckled. “See? I told ya that would wake you up real willing and able, didn’t I? Didn’t even need to touch your cock to get you off.”

“Ja. But now it is your turn.” Still pressed together, I flipped my weight deftly sideways, pulling him far enough that he ended up lying mostly facedown and partly on top of me. “Hold still, or I vill port us both into the cold air outside, then leave you there and port back into this nice varm bed,” I said jokingly. “You vould not like that, vould you?”

“Aw right, Elf. You made your point.”

“Not yet I haven’t. But do not vorry, I vill.” So saying, I ran the tip of my tail down the length of his exposed back and into the crack of his ass, using the hard bony tip to press against his opening.

“Kurt, ya wouldn’t.”

”Ja, I vould. Vhere is our lube? Or vould you prefer to do vithout it?”

“I left it on the nightstand on my side. But –”

Before he could finish, I already held it in my hand, squeezing some out onto his ass and my tail. “You vere the one who said I should use my tail more, remember?”

“Yeah. But I didn’t mean –”

“Just hold still. I’ll only use the end, and I’ll be careful.”

My hand had once more gotten hold of his cock. As I felt him respond to my words and my tail, I began stroking it fast and hard.

“Oh, shit, Elf! O god! Ahh! Yeah! Faster!”

All this, of course, only made the feeling of the plug up my own butt even more intense. Between that and our frantic movements of our bodies, I came again when he did. But I still retained enough sense not to totally skewer him on my tail out of sheer enthusiasm.

“Jesus H. Christ, Elf, if I knew that butt plug was going to be that effective, I’d have bought ya one for every day of the week, each in a different color.”

“Nein. They are very expensive toys. I think I vill be very content vith just the one.”

“Good!”

We both laughed before we went into the bathroom and cleaned up.

GERMAN TRANSLATION

'Alles für Deutschland'          'Everything for Germany'

'Meine Ehre heißt Treue'      'My honor is loyalty'

Sprichst du Deutsch?            Do you speak German?

ich weiß nicht                          I don’t know.

Entschuldigung                       Pardon me

Das weiß ich                            I know that.

Nein. Das ist alles.                  No. That’s all.

Gott sei dank!                            Thank God!

Ja, sicher, mein Piratenkapitän                Yes, for sure, my pirate captain

Wunderbar!                                 Wonderful!

Aber natürlich                              But of course

Du hast recht.                              You’re right.

mein arschloch                              my asshole

Geh schlafen.                                  Go to sleep.
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In the Beginning ...