This is the second story of a much longer story arc, which is best read in the order of the List at the end.

Translation of German words or phrases at the end. However, I have tried to make the meaning fairly clear in context.



AS THE TWIG IS BENT
Part One

Wie der Zweig gebogen wird, so wächst der Baum.
As the twig is bent, so grows the tree.


“Kurt! Darlin’, wake up! You’re havin’ a nightmare. Kurt!”

Logan’s voice rings through my head, disrupting the dream that holds me captive. “I am avake. Stop shaking me. It is all right,” I protest as I gather the pieces of reality around me, pushing the detritus of that false reality out of my mind.

I feel Logan’s arms encircle my still-trembling body, drawing me closer to him. I curl up against his chest like a child.

“What was that all about, Elf? I’m usually the one with the nightmares, but this is the third night in a row that I’ve had to wake you up.”

“It is nothing. I just vant to forget it.”

“Was it the same one again?”

“I do not vant to talk about it!”

“It was, wasn’t it, darlin’?” He hesitates before going on, as if unsure of my reaction. “Who’s Herr Grüber?”

Panic engulfs me at the mention of that name. I tense up and cling tighter to my puzzled partner, shaking my head in denial. My tail curls pathetically between my legs.

Logan reacts instantly to the fear that floods my scent as well as my sudden tension by using one of the hands he has behind me to stroke my back. I take a deep breath, trying to relax.

“Nobody. It is not important. Please, let us not talk of this.”

“Nobody, huh? Then why have you been pleading with him in your sleep for the last few nights? And why did you call out his name the night before that, while I was fisting you?”

“Vhat did I say?”

“You really wanna know?”

All I can do is nod my head. I had no idea I was talking in my sleep, much less during the time Logan was fist-fucking me. Mein Gott, what have I been saying?!

“You were whimpering and begging in German. I didn’t catch all of it, but it was something like “Nein, Herr Grüber. Bitte, nein.” I’ve never heard your voice sound like that before. And then later you told him to go back to Hell, where he belonged. It’s been mostly the same kind of thing during the nightmares also.”

Oh, no! Had I really said all that out loud?!

“C’mon, Elf. This ain’t ‘nobody’ if he’s haunting your dreams.”

“I do not vish to discuss him.”

“You’re acting like a scared child. This is me. There’s nothing you can’t tell me.”

I cannot even bring myself to say his name, much less talk about Herr Grüber. Not to Logan, not to anyone. Distraction. Ja, that is it. I can distract him from pursuing this.

“So then there is also nothing you cannot tell me, nicht wahr?”

Logan reacts as I expect him to. “Well – uh –“

I take the opening he gives me. “Of course, it is all right for you to refuse to talk to me about those special missions you have been going out to do alone, but I must tell you everything about my life. Is that it?”

If he truly were a wolverine, I would have been able to see his hair stand on end when I said that. As it is, I feel him tense up, just as I have. We lie there stiff and prickly in each other’s arms.

“You don’t understand, Kurt. That’s different. I can’t tell you about that.”

“How is it different? Vhy?”

“You don’t understand. That’s all. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

“I can’t. You’ve just got to trust me on this.”

“I could say the same to you then.”

I pull away from him, turning over and dragging the covers up to my chin.

“Aw, Elf, don’t do this to me. Or to yourself.”

“I am not doing anything to you that you are not doing to me.”

“Haven’t we gone around in circles long enough about this already?”

“Ja, ve have. So let us leave it alone.”

“OK, guess I’m gonna have to figure it out for myself then.”

I start to get up from the bed, but his arms fasten around my waist. “You ain’t goin’ nowhere, darlin’. Not without me goin’ along.”

Scheisse! Now what am I going to do? If he is holding me like this, I cannot even teleport without taking him with me.

“Talk to me, damnit!”

I shake my head in mute refusal. If one does not talk, one cannot give anything away.

“This ain’t like you. You’re usually the one who’s all for communication and honesty. Most of the time I can’t get you to shut your mouth. But now, I can’t seem to get you to open it. What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”

That did not make any sense. “Nein. My tongue is right here,” I protest, turning around and sticking it out at him.

“It’s an idiom, darlin’.”

I duck my head to hide my embarrassment. “Oh. Sorry.”

Well, so much for silence. I was never very good at that anyway.

“C’mon, Elf. You’re the one always wanting us to talk about stuff.”

“Can ve not just talk of something else?”

“OK.”

Too easy. He is not going to give up that easily, and I know it.

“Look, you’re all upset. I know how to get you to relax.”

He draws me back down so that I am lying alongside him again, but still facing my side of our bed. His hand moves down to the small of my back. I shiver as he digs his fingers into the tight muscles that control my tail. Delightful! Just what I need to banish the leftover fear from the nightmare. If I had been lying on my stomach instead of my side, I would have arched my back against his hand, as a cat will do when petted. As it is, I press my hips back against him and sigh luxuriously. If I were that hypothetical cat, I would have begun to purr.

I know very well what this will lead to, but I have no objections. Quite the contrary, in fact. Sex will surely sidetrack his effort to figure out what is bothering me.

“Darlin’, I really know very little about your early childhood, although you’ve told me a lot about performing in the circus as a teen-ager and how much you enjoyed it,” he says lightly, as if this were his version of changing the subject to some kind of small talk. Although I try to hold onto my feeling of well-being and relaxation, it is difficult. I know full well that I cannot easily deceive Logan. For one thing, I have no talent for lying. For another, he could probably tell from the nervousness in my scent if I even attempted to tell him an untruth.

“One would think you went right from your mother’s womb to the flying trapeze,” he continues, in that same light tone of voice.

Before I can stop myself, I reply bitterly, “Often I have vished that vere true.”

“Uhmm.”

That is all? No further comment? It seems so, as his hand moves lower and grasps the base of my tail, massaging it gently. My entire tail collapses down onto the bed as if it were boneless, lying there in limp comfort. Wunderbar!

“Ya know, I really enjoyed it when you let me fist-fuck you a few nights ago.”

Even better. He is changing the subject to something much more pleasant than my early childhood. I am on firmer ground here, talking about the other night. Except for what I must have said out loud.

“Ja, it vas incredible. Aftervards, I felt so – so –“ At a loss for words, all I can do is gesture with my hand, as if I am reaching for something I cannot quite grasp.

“I know. I can’t find the right words to describe it either.” His hand continues working on my tail, while his other hand moves around to my chest, playing over the scarred designs.

“You almost told me to quit at one point, didn’t ya? Just before my knuckles went in?”

“How did you know that? I only asked you to stop and vait a minute so I could adjust to the feeling.”

“Elf, I’ve been there myself, remember? That’s usually the most difficult part to get through. I almost gave up then too, on my first try.”

“You did?”

”Sure. It’s a terrifying feeling, as if you’re going to be split open at any second. Me, I felt as if there was a switch that had to click over in my head in order that I could relax and allow myself to open further, but it just won’t go. In my experience, the folks who get by that point usually flash on something in their past that helps that switch to click on, some method of relaxation they’ve used before. Does that sound like what happened to you?”

Before I can stop it, my tongue betrays me. “Ja! I remembered when Herr Grüber –-“ I sit up abruptly. “Verdammt, Logan! Du hast mich betrogen!”

“Yeah, I tricked you. So what?” His arms wrap around me, once again drawing me back down by his side. His hands return to their previous activities. “At least you can tell me what this mysterious Herr Grüber did that made you open up and take my hand so well. That’s not classified information, is it?”

“Vell, no,” I reluctantly admit. “It vas only that he taught me a sort of mantra, a way to picture myself. It comes in handy for such a situation.”

“That sounds like a good thing. How does it go?”

“You are to imagine yourself as a cloud floating effortlessly through the sky. It is varm, sunny, and you are drifting on a gentle breeze. You are immaterial, permeable, above all the troubles of the vorld below.” Even as I say it, I feel myself start to melt. “You shift from shape to shape, impermanent, changeable. You can absorb anything you have to. You can be anything you have to be.” I shake my head. Too much of this and I will space out. Perhaps I have learned my mantra too well.

“Not bad. It sure did the trick the other night.” By now, his fingers are teasing one nipple, and his other hand has traveled around below my tail, not quite at that sensitive spot between my tail and my anus. He is teasing me, stopping just before touching that place.

“Ja. I have not had to use that meditation for more years than I vould really like to count. As you have often noted, I have far more flexibility in all vays than the average person does. And that includes certain sphincter muscles.”

“That’s for damn sure! I never would’ve been able to get into you that easily for the first time otherwise. Not with a hand the size of mine.”

That hand is just now rolling my hard nipple between its fingers. I take hold of it and bring it to my lips, kissing his knuckles and then sucking briefly on each one in turn. Perhaps this will distract him from his persistent focus on things I do not wish to have him focus on. I have never told anyone much about my early childhood, other than that I was in a sideshow with a circus before I became a trapeze artist. And that is all anyone needs to know, including Logan.

He will not be distracted. Wresting his hand out of my eager mouth, he takes hold of my hair and gently pulls my head back so that he is looking me in the face.

“So what else did you learn from this Grüber fellow?”

“Nothing of any interest.”

“Um-hmm.”

From the skeptical tone of his voice this time, I can tell he does not believe me for a moment. Nevertheless, I volunteer no further information, nor do I intend to.

Then his other hand touches that lovely place just shy of my asshole. I close my eyes and drop my head further back until it rests on my pillow. “Aah, Gott!”

“Ya like that, don’t’cha, Elf?” I can hear the gloating satisfaction in his voice. I might be angry, if I could muster the energy needed, but as he continues to rub me just there, it feels too blessedly good to bother.

“Yeah, ya like it.” I can imagine the smug smile on his face about now. But I do not care.

“Got an idea, Elf.”

“So do I. Fick mich.”

He laughs. “Don’t worry, I’ll fuck you soon enough. First, let’s play a little game. You know how to play 20 Questions?”

“Ja, but I vould much rather –“

He does not let me finish. “If I can figure out the deep dark secret you’re hidin’, I win. If I can’t, you win. The usual terms: Loser buys the beer. What do ya say?”

Slightly miffed, I retort, “Nein. I know how much beer you can drink, compared to me. I have decided the odds are stacked against me.”

“Cards can be stacked, darlin’. Odds can’t.”

“You know vhat I mean.”

“Yeah. So what do you want to do about it?”

I am determined to ignore those caressing fingers beneath my tail and drive a hard bargain, even if my entire tail is twitching and quivering uncontrollably beneath the covers and my cock is stiff as a board. “If I vin, you vill not only buy the beers I drink at the bar, but you vill buy me a case of beer for future consumption also.”

“Agreed.”

“I varn you, it vill take many more than 20 questions.”

“Ya think so, huh?”

“Ja.” I am very sure, but still I do not like the way this conversation is going. Nevertheless, his fingers are still playing with me lasciviously beneath my tail, so I have not yet given up on rerouting his interests away from his silly game.

“Then ya can’t lose, right? So let’s play. Here’s my first question. Is this Herr Grüber the man who ran the sideshow where you appeared as a child?”

“Ja.” The answer is out before I can so much as think about it.

“Was he the one who trained you to do the – ah – interesting — things you can do so well when we screw?”

All right, how could he know that? “Ja,” I admit, somewhat reluctantly this time. Logan’s guesses are too close for comfort.

“So you spent your childhood being sexually abused by him, right?”

“Is that another question?” I ask warily.

“Yeah.” His hand moves down a little bit, so that he is still massaging that wonderful place with his thumb, but his fingers now press against my opening.

“Ahh – mein Schatz – uh – you are distracting me from our game.”

“I know that.” But he does not stop.

“I vill lose count of the questions.”

“I’ll keep track of what number we’re on. Right now, I’m waiting for your answer to my third question.”

“Uh – no. Herr Grüber did not exactly abuse me.”

“No? Fourth question. Then what did he exactly do to you?”

“He very rarely had sex vith me himself. He only trained me to perform for my customers.”

“Fifth question. Trained you to perform what?”

“Vhatever they vanted of me and vere villing to pay him for.”

“Sixth question. Like sex?”

I duck my head and hide my face against his broad chest, shaking my head. “I do not have to answer because you have been cheating,” I mumble. “Do you think I do not know that all the questions must be able to be answered by a yes or a no? You have already asked two that should not count.”

“All right, you got me on a technicality, darlin’.” His voice is soft next to my ear. I feel his tongue lick the pointed tip, even as his finger enters my body. “I withdraw those questions. Come on, Elf. You’re not gonna chicken out on me now, are ya?”

His finger strokes me inside, reaching for my prostate. My desire flares into something that I can no longer contain, as I spit out the answer he so badly wants to hear. “Yes, yes, yes! Sex! Vhat else?! Sex, in any vay they vant it, vith any other disgusting nasty things they vant me to do or vant to do to me, no matter if I like it or not!! Are you happy now? Are you satisfied?!”

His face registers sudden shock as I wrench myself out of his embrace, his finger being roughly pulled out of my ass in the process. I crouch before him on my hands and knees, bending my elbows to lower my head and put my ass in the air and holding my tail off to one side in the classic invitation of a cat in heat. “Fick mich!!” I demand. “Jetzt!”

“Elf, come on, not like that. Let me hold you in my arms and kiss your lips. I wanna see your eyes glow with love and passion.”

“Nein! I do not vant to look at you! I cannot! I do not vant it nice and gentle and loving! I vant it hard and vicious. I vant you to fuck me like the whore I am! Do not talk. Do not comfort me. Make it hurt! Fuck me! Hard. Now.”

“Aw right, if that’s how you want it.” After a brief moment, his cock presses against my hole, held steady and guided by his hand. Even so, I can feel that it is wet with lube.

I growl as he hesitates. I slam my hips back against him, forcing his hard cock into my ass in one stroke. I can feel him arch his back and hear his guttural cry. Then his fingers dig into the sides of my pelvis and hold me steady so he can thrust deeper. “You want it like this, you’ll get it like this.” He moves fast, hard, deep, making no concession to what I may be feeling. But I do not care.

“Use me, hurt me, make me feel the pain!” I snarl through clenched teeth. “I deserve nothing more. I am a whore, a slut, a thing to be used. That is what Herr Grüber taught me to be and that is vhat I am! How could it be any different? Fick mich, damn you!”

For a moment, he holds still, possibly shocked by my words. This is not what I want. I want what I have said: to be used and used hard. I contract my pelvic muscles tightly, as if I am trying to pull him into me, then relax and do it again, at the same time tilting my pelvis forward then back. That particular sequence of motions, if repeated rhythmically for a long enough time, is almost guaranteed to bring a man to orgasm. Only a few times and Logan is moving again, matching my timing and thrusting with great enthusiasm.

“I’m — gonna — come,” he finally says roughly, between thrusts. Is it a threat or an apology? I am beyond caring. It does not matter. I will take whatever he wants me to, his cum, his piss, his hand, anything, it makes no difference.

His fingers clutch at me harder as he pulls my hips into him yet again, grinding his groin tight against my buttocks, forcing them apart so he can get in further. He howls his release as I feel him tremble against me. A few more thrusts and he collapses on top of me, forcing me flat down onto the bed. I hear him panting for breath. I lie there as tears leak from the corners of my eyes, feeling my traitorous penis shoot its load onto the tangled sheets. My insides burn where his cock still gouges into me. Then suddenly it is gone, the weight on top of me lifts. I know he is kneeling there looking down at me, then I hear another howl, this time of anguish, not lust.

“Elf? O my god! Kurt! Are you all right?”

I cannot answer right away. Whatever got into me, to act like that? Where did that intense need come from? What sort of a monster am I? And what must Logan think?

His arms come around me and I am dragged up next to him on the bed. How can he bear to touch me, after what I have just said?

“Kurt? Talk to me. If you don’t say something, I’m gonna carry you down to the infirmary right now.”

“Vhat – vould you like me to say?” I manage to gasp.

He pulls me against him so my head is resting on his shoulder. “What was all that about?”

I try to turn away, but his arm holds me close. “I — I – “ I stop, swallow, and try again. “I think that is vhat happens vhen you play Tventy Questions vith me.”

That gets a wan smile from him, so I continue. “Perhaps it is a good thing that ve only got as far as number six?”

A tentative chuckle. “Looks like you owe me the beer, huh?”

“Nein,” I object automatically, while part of my mind is still trying to adjust to the idea that he does not despise me. “You cheated.”

“All right. Call it a draw then. We each buy our own beer the next time.”

I nod, waiting to see where he takes the conversation from here.

“Now, darlin’, you’re gonna tell me about all this. Or do I have to fick you again?”

I hang my head. “I –“

He lifts my chin before I can go any further.

“—and don’t even start to say you can’t talk about it. Got that?”

I nod. “Ja. You vin.”

He kisses the top of my head. “So tell me what happened.”

“I do not know vhere to start.”

“In that case, I’ll ask more questions. How did you get into a circus sideshow in the first place? Do you even know?”

“Only vhat I vas told by Herr Grüber. He found me as a very young infant in a cardboard box on the doorstep of his house at the circus’ vinter quarters in the village of Schönberg one icy morning. There vas a piece of paper pinned to my blanket that read ‘Kurt Vagner’, spelled vith a W, of course.” I shrug. “This could all be a lie. I have no vay to tell. All I know for sure is that I vas vith him as early as I can remember, and being surrounded by strangers who stare down at me is part of my earliest memories. That, and a voman who must have been hired as my nurse who put her finger up my ass every time she suckled me. Much later on, Herr Grüber told me she did that on his orders.

“Vhen I vas a very young child, it vas not too bad. I can recall appearing as part of the sideshow, doubtlessly as one of the freaks. There vas an extra charge to see the Amazing Devil Baby, vhich became the Amazing Devil Boy as time passed.”

I go on to tell Logan a relatively brief version of my childhood, first pointing out that, contrary to the image in most folks’ minds these days, a freak show did not (and I say it in the past tense because such things are generally not common anymore) normally consist of people imprisoned in cages and forced to be on display. Most of us were there of our own free will, in large part because it was the only way to earn a decent living. For those of us who could, a lot of it was a true performance, not just a case of standing before the gawking audience while they stared at us. At different times, I danced, did acrobatics, juggled, and even came up with a fairly good contortionist act.

The typical sideshow was not just freaks. There were also people with unusual skills, such as sword swallowers, magicians, fire eaters, and knife throwers, to name just a few. Then there were the fakes, who were not true freaks at all but only pretended to be by using various forms of trickery, or who, like most of the fortune tellers, were simply fooling people with their mumbo jumbo. On top of all that, there were the grifters, who ran con games and games of chance on the marks inside the tents, or simply picked their pockets.

From all of these people, I learned things. From the knife throwers, I learned to throw knives. From the fire eaters and sword swallowers, I learned how it was done, although I did not attempt to do it. From the fakes and the grifters, I learned that, while it is not strictly speaking true that “you can’t cheat an honest man”, it is indeed significantly more difficult to do so. The easiest person to cheat is the one who thinks he is really entitled to get something for nothing, especially if you can also make him think he can put something over on you.

As I have already mentioned, I was not usually in the main part of the sideshow, but rather one of the extra attractions that was offered for the men in the audience to see at the end of the show, for a small extra charge. This was called the “blow off” and was conducted behind a curtain that concealed one entire end of our tent. It consisted mainly of scantily-clad young ladies who would dance for the men, often giving them fleeting glimpses of nudity. Our dancers were dressed in Arabic costumes, with many veils they could shed during the performance before anything serious would be revealed, and the only music they needed was provided by a single drummer. Some of the ladies were more skillful at these so-called belly dances than others.

I was told later on that as an infant, I was brought out by one of the ladies, undressed, and held out for the audience to see up close. The Amazing Devil Baby was the warm-up act before the dancing began.

As I got older, I was able to be a more active participant, coming in with the ladies to show myself off. While I had not been taught to dance as they did, I started mimicking them early on. That made the men looking at us smile and laugh, so I kept on doing it. I discovered by accident that the audience would cheer me enthusiastically if I tried to pull off some of the veils that covered the ladies, so I added that to my act. It was fun to hear the audience clap for me. The dancers soon figured out how to play along with what I did, shrieking as I came near them, trying to keep their veils out of my reach, or acting very embarrassed if I were successful in my efforts.

When I was old enough that propriety demanded that I also wear something most of the time, we set it up so that the ladies could tear off my clothing also, to get more laughs. By the end of the show, I usually ended up entirely naked. I would walk over close to the edge of the stage and let the people touch me however they wished. I was so used to being displayed to others by then that I was not embarrassed or ashamed.

Since I already looked the part, I played up my devilishness as I got older, leering at the dancers and taunting them. I even had a miniature pitchfork, and brandished it suggestively. By that time, I knew very well what was going on and why men wanted to see naked women. I also knew perfectly well what the men wanted to do to those naked women, if they had had a chance. I suspected that some of the girls were doing more than merely dancing for the men, just as I was, but I thought nothing of it.

I had barely learned to talk reasonably well when Herr Grüber started my training in earnest. At first it was easy and sort of fun. I used my hands to please the private customers that came to our trailer late at night, as Herr Grüber had arranged with them earlier in the day. He was exceptionally good at picking out people in the audience who showed a particular fascination with me, then offering them the chance for a more private interaction later on, for a rather high fee, natürlich.

When a male customer brought a woman with him to see me, wanting to simply watch me please her, it was easy, even with just two fingers and a thumb on each of my hands to work with. I think that very novelty was part of what interested some of them in my ministrations. Of course, I had to be careful of my fingernails, which even at that tender age were thicker and larger than the average child’s.

My male customers were more challenging, as they could be very demanding and I had to use more strength and effort to make them come. There was always a sense of triumph when I was successful, as the entire process fascinated me.

Sex organs became some of my most interesting toys. Once one of the men asked me to lick up the sticky stuff he had produced, and I found it did not have a very bad taste at all. None of the men asked me to suck on their dicks though. All I had to do was smile at them and they lost any interest they might have had in such a thing. Even my baby teeth were sharp, crooked, and oversized. Probably that was for the best, as my mouth would not have accommodated them. I have yet to find anyone who wants me to give them a blow job.


As I grew older, Herr Grüber gradually added other activities to my repertoire, as I became able to do them. I was a very good pupil, wanting, as a child will, to please the person who seemed most interested in me. It was not permitted to hurt me, and I did not know there was anything unusual about being fondled by strangers, or being expected to touch their genitals and give them pleasure. It was simply what I did. Eventually I learned to include my tail in the performance of my duties, along vith a large array of the devices usually known as sex toys, which is particularly apt in my case.

I never knew how much money he made by selling me — how do you say?