The Pirate Fairy

by A. J. Llewellyn

  “Blimey!” the green-winged man said. “You weren’t kidding. Your wings are stuck!”

  Denny had dropped to his knees and panted in pain. Tears streaked down his face. “Thank you. This happened to me five months ago and I’ve had nobody to talk to. They hurt every day.”

  The green-winged man moved behind Denny and knelt, studying the wings a little closer. He poked at the feathers and slid his hand underneath Denny’s slitted shirt. He touched a particularly tender spot on Denny’s right shoulder blade. It hurt, but Denny found that the man’s prodding sent a mixture of pleasure and pain down his back, so he just breathed through the worst moments. “This one’s atrophied a bit. It’s clear you haven’t used them, which contravenes our rules for judgment here. You might have to be sent to a different court.”

  A harsh gasp shot out throughout the assembled throng. Denny looked up to see Ebba’s horrified expression. She shook her head at him then uttered an emphatic, “No. He’s still one of us. He still counts. He was cursed and it’s clear that something went wrong. Can you imagine how much pain he’s been in?”

  The green-winged man didn’t respond.

  “She said she’d turned the fairy into a fairy,” Denny said, desperation pouring from his very soul.

  A hushed silence fell over them all.

  “Who did this to you?” The green-winged man got to his feet once more.

  Denny fought the urge to purge all over the ground. He gulped in air and was about to mutter her name but caught Ebba’s slight shake of her head. “I don’t know her name.”

  The green-winged man looked suspicious. “So this woman cursed you for no good reason?”

  “I rejected her.” Denny didn’t look at Ebba in case she was shaking her head again.

  “She wanted you for a lover?” The green-winged man looked surprised.

  “I’m an attractive man, or I was.” Denny hung his head. He had mad urges to barf and cry. Never in his life had he felt so helpless or ashamed. Not since he’d been a kid.

  “Whatever helps you sleep nights,” Ebba murmured. Now why did she keep saying that to him? First it was his belief that his porridge had fruit in it. Now it was his looks.

  What the hell did that bitch Fortunata do to me? His hands flew to his face. He was hairier than he remembered but everything else seemed to be the same. No hooked nose or hair-sprouting moles from what he could tell.

  For the first time in weeks, he allowed himself to think about Prince Merritt and Princess Fortunata. How could two siblings be so very different? One so good and loving, the other so diabolical? It struck him for the first time that they were so much like Denny and his sister, Polly, that it was almost frightening.

  “Get up,” Ebba said, hauling Denny to his feet. His face mashed into her boobies. Boobies. She was a girl. He had a sudden hunch that she, like he, had been cursed. He looked at her as he wobbled on his broken boot heel.

  “Why are you looking at me that way?” she snapped. “Stop crying. Nobody likes a sniveling pirate.”

  “Under the circumstances, he can be tried in the fairy court,” the green-winged man muttered. “He is a fairy, even though his wings are buggered up.” He wrote something in his notebook. “I will refrain from making an official notification about your handicap. I’ll give you time to work on your wings.” He pointed to his left. “I’m doing this for Ebba, so do not waste this opportunity. She knows the way.”

  Indeed she did. She led Denny to a path away from the shoreline. Things smelled a bit better here. Denny took a deep breath.

  “It’s okay here now,” Ebba said. “The holding cells are quite pleasant. They’ll bring you something to eat and you can wash. I’ll see what I can do about your boots. You’re falling all over the place. We don’t want them thinking you’re the sad old drunk we both know you really are.”

  “Hey! I’m not old. I’m twenty-five!”

  “Okay. You’re a sad drunk then.”

  “Hey! I’m not sad, or a drunk.”

  “Hey, yourself. Have you looked in a mirror lately? You look like crap. Alcohol has aged you and don’t tell me you’re not a drunk. You don’t even remember what happened to me, do you?”

  He gulped. “Nope.”

  “I tried to protect you when Fortunata cursed you.”

  “You did?” It was all so hazy. He’d been so horrified when the pretty princess had turned herself into an ugly old crone he recalled nothing else.

  “I stood right in front of you. Because I protected you, she got mad. I protected a fairy so she turned me into a…a…girly man.”

  “Oh, my God. I am so sorry.” Denny clutched Ebba’s arms.

  She shrugged him off. “No big thing. I like being both. I have my male parts and my female parts. I’m officially recognized as a woman, but there are men who like both.” She suddenly smiled. “I give them the best of both worlds. My two husbands can testify to that.” She pushed him through the side entrance of a black and white marble building.

  “This is the court?” Denny looked around.

  “Yes. The Supernatural Superior Court. You are not on the Code Red list. Yet. You won’t face the judge or jury until tomorrow. In the meantime, get some rest. I’ll see if I can’t get someone in here to give you a shave. You look like a crazy hermit right now.” She left him at a check-in counter where a man who looked like a human bumblebee with huge, thick glasses waited for him.

  “And practice using your feathers,” Ebba muttered in Denny’s ears. “There are two fairies on the jury. They won’t take kindly to you weeping about your wings. I’ll be back tonight. We need to prepare your defense.”

  Denny hated to see her leave, but the bumblebee was talking to him. Denny strained to hear him. It wasn’t easy since every word out of the man’s mouth was accompanied by some serious buzzing. Denny listened as the man told him he would be held pending his piracy trial. “You’ll be in Cell Block D. That’s a nice one. They give you blankets in there.”

  “Okay, thanks.” Denny kept hoping he was having a bad dream, but soon he was heading to his cell, a few men ahead of him. One guy was half eagle, half man. He had only one wing. His jealous glance in Denny’s direction made Denny feel ashamed for having made such a fuss about two wings. With two wings he could do something. With one wing, oh, boy. That would have been cruel. And here was a man living with it.

  Denny followed the bumblebee man into a bare-walled cell that had a window protected by frosted glass and tiny, thick bars. He couldn’t see out, but light streamed in. He had a narrow bed with a pillow and blankets piled on one end. A small table and chair had been pushed against the wall. The bumblebee man hung a mirror on a hook nailed into the wall above it. Denny needed to get a look at himself. How bad was he? But the chamber pot beckoned and as soon as the cell door locked behind the bumblebee man, Denny made use of the pot, covering it with a cloth tucked into the handle.

  A man without wings but the head of a fox and tail to match came in with a large pot of steaming water. He wore ordinary clothes, his tail protruding from the back of his pants. “I understand you have a wing problem.”

  Denny nodded.

  “Take everything off.”

  Denny didn’t mind if he did. He stood naked as the fox man looked him over then placed the basin on the table. He beckoned Denny over to him. Using a gigantic sea sponge, he cleaned Denny’s face. Denny inhaled the fragrance of the scented water. Roses and lavender. He almost swooned. The fox man went over Denny’s entire feathers.

  “You have to keep these clean. Your feathers have been stuck for some time. Looks and feels like candle wax. Did you fall into a lit candle or something?”

  Denny was about to say no, but from somewhere deep in his memory banks, he recalled a late-night brawl. He seemed to remember being pushed against a wall beneath a candle sconce. When had that happened? Had he been injured? “Maybe,” he admitted.

  The man gave him a kind smile. “Unless you use your wings, you’ll forget your human l
ife. You’ll remember things from long ago but not recent activities. Your body is rejecting the fairy experience, but you belong to both worlds now.”

  “What happened to you?” Denny asked.

  The fox man stopped sponging Denny’s wings. “I was cursed.” He sighed and began dabbing again. “I rejected the crown princess.”

  Denny’s heart sank. “What was her name?”

  The fox man’s hand shook. “Fortunata.”

  Denny stiffened.

  The fox man put a steadying hand on Denny’s very sore wing. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Don’t you know that’s why you’re here?”

  “No. I know nothing. My crew mutinied against me and here I am.”

  “Lucky for you. I read your case notes. Ebba paid gold for your recovery.”

  “But I thought my crew gave her gold to take me.”

  “Ha! They did. But she paid gold to informants to find your ship. We’ve been tracking you for weeks. If she gives a good defense of you, she can have her curse reversed.”

  “Can I?”

  “Don’t be stupid. You’ll be lucky if you’re sentenced to slavery. Most pirates are sentenced to death.”

  “I still don’t understand why I’m here.” It hurt to think that Ebba had been looking out for herself all this time. He’d wanted to believe that he had a chance to make it out alive.

  “Keep your voice down.” The fox man squeezed the sponge into the now very black water and patted Denny’s bad wing again. “Princess Fortunata is being held captive on a ship. Nobody knows where. But in her absence, the prince—”

  “Merritt?” Denny asked excitedly.

  “Yes, Prince Merritt. Do you know him?”

  “Very well.” Intimately. You might say biblically.

  The fox man frowned. “I wouldn’t admit that to anybody else if I were you. I’m telling you all of this in confidence. Shall I continue?”

  “Yes. Please do.”

  “He’s holding these trials, trying to figure out where she is. It was always rumored that you were the one who took her captive, though it’s obvious since you haven’t harnessed your magical powers that it’s impossible that you have her. I hear the prince is not happy.”

  “I have magical powers?”

  “Of course. Were you always this stupid or is it only since you became a fairy?”

  “What sort of magical powers?” Denny was incensed that he’d known none of this and that he’d wallowed in self-pity all this time.

  “You can fly. You can’t die from a gunshot wound. You can see things humans can’t. When you harness your power, you have acute hearing and vision. And for a male fairy, your dick gets huge. I mean really huge.”

  This day was suddenly getting better. Denny absorbed all of this. He recalled letting the prince go because Merritt had confessed that their mutual love would affect his kingdom and his ability to rule. He was supposed to marry a woman and had been promised to a rival royal family’s daughter. Fortunata had refused to leave the ship, not suspecting her brother’s relationship with Denny. Well, that’s what she’d said at first, but Denny had been honest and it turned out she had known all along and blamed Denny for her brother’s sexual deviation.

  He’d been truthful about everything and paid the price for it. Was it too late for him to explore his new power and use it to his advantage?

  “If I can’t die by gunshot, how do fairies die?” Denny asked.

  The fox man looked at him. “You should live forever, unless you ingest poison, or—”He paused dramatically. “You drink to excess. Each alcoholic beverage shortens your lifespan by a year.”

  Denny’s mind went into a spiral of shock, denial, anger then acceptance. He’d stop drinking from now on. He resented that his crew had given him endless bottles of absinthe and wine. They were trying to get me to die!

  “What is your name?” Denny asked the fox man, who rubbed at a waxy spot on Denny’s wing.”

  “Barthelmass.”

  “Nice name.”

  “Thank you. And what about your curse? Can they lift it?”

  Barthelmass moved in front of Denny and looked at him. “No. I never asked. I don’t feel cursed. I feel blessed. I can outrun any man I know. I have sharp senses of smell and hearing and I have plenty of girlfriends.” He smiled. “At least I did, until I met the love of my life and wanted to get married. According to the Supernatural Superior Court, we can’t do that until one of us has our curse removed.”

  “Oh, that’s so sad.”

  “We’re considered mixed races now.” Barthelmass looked devastated but recovered quickly. He moved behind Denny again and rubbed at the wing. It hurt, but Denny didn’t say so.

  “There,” Barthelmass said. “Your wing is clear. Try to keep them free of restriction as much as possible. I’ll finish bathing you. See if you can’t get them to flap.”

  “How do I do that? Everybody keeps telling me to try without telling me how to do it.”

  “Imagine them flapping. I didn’t know what to do with my fox tail when I got it. Had some nasty bathroom accidents at first, which the ladies didn’t find so sexy.”

  “No. I imagine not.”

  Barthelmass squeezed the sponge into the water again and pressed Denny’s skin. The pain of the wax-glugged wing had subsided, and having another man touch his bare skin made his cock go boing. Uh-oh. He had to stop that.

  “Imagine you have always had them. Picture them flapping. Send a message to them. Ask them to flap for you. To show you their magic.”

  Denny did as he’d been told. Nothing happened at first. For several long minutes, he agonized over the futility of his efforts, but Barthelmass kept saying encouraging things.

  “Feel their power. Persuade them back into life. Wings have feelings, too.” Barthelmass moved in front of Denny, washing his throat and chest. He teased Denny’s nipples with a moist fingertip as well as a gentle swipe of the sponge.

  Denny could no longer hide his boner, and Barthelmass didn’t seem to take offense. In fact he captured Denny’s massive cock in his hand and stroked it. “Feel your power,” he coaxed. “Show me your wings!” Barthelmass stroked Denny’s cock with increasing force.

  This seemed to set off a series of intense feelings deep within Denny’s body. The orgasm he had at the hands of the fox man made Denny’s wings twitch.

  “That’s it.” The fox man kept his grip on Denny’s cock with one hand, the other touching the feathers in Denny’s wings. The wings vibrated.

  “You’re doing it.”

  Denny’s feet left the ground, but Barthelmass brought him back again. “I opened you up,” he said, “but now you’ll have to learn to do it without somebody bringing you sexual release.”

  “Okay,” Denny said, hugely disappointed that it was over. He wanted so much more with the fox man.

  Barthelmass finished cleaning Denny then handed him a pair of cotton pants and a shirt that gave the wings in his back freedom of movement.

  Denny was confused about many things, such as why he needed his wings to work, but suddenly it came to him. Orgasm had released months of cloudy thoughts and feelings. Denny needed to show the court that he had accepted his new condition. That he harbored no ill feeling toward the princess. Even though he did.

  The cotton pants he slid up and over his thighs reminded him of another jail in another time and place in a galaxy far, far away. He trotted to the bed and lay on his side.

  “That’s good.” Barthelmass used the same gentle, coaxing tone he had earlier. “Rest now. And start again as soon as you’re awake.”

  “You’re lovely to me.” Denny sighed when Barthelmass ran a cool hand over Denny’s brow.

  “Ebba is the woman I want to be my wife. I want her to be free,” Barthelmass said. “She is the best thing in my life. She has explored both sides of her sexuality and if she becomes solely a woman, the laws will allow us to be married.” He picked up the basin and left.

  Denny was too spent to even say
goodbye. He fell into a deep sleep. He had always gravitated toward men but had no idea of how to pursue his desire for sexual contact with another. He’d gotten the chance unexpectedly when he was eighteen and thrown into a Spanish jail during a stop at the sea port of Tarragona, in the Mediterranean Sea. Denny had taken to sea life with remarkable ease and had been so influenced by his superior officers when they’d gone astray that he’d joined them on their less savory antics. Particularly when it had involved drinking. Though Denny chafed at authority, he shone when a superior officer befriended him. It came from his years as a street urchin. Always desperate to belong, he’d trotted beside the ship’s crewmembers when they’d stepped away from hauling barrels onto the ship and slipped into one of the many tavernas dotting the port.

  For the first time, Denny had tasted the local drink, Chartreuse, an extremely alcoholic green drink that tasted sweet at first, but then developed a strong and pungent aftertaste that made the drinker imbibe more to get back the sweetness. Denny and the crew had ordered platters of pa amb tomàquet, which had turned out to be large slices of square toasted bread with scrapings of tomato laced with olive oil and salt. Denny couldn’t believe how good such a simple meal could taste. He thought of the numerous nights he and his sister, Polly, had slept without food in their bellies. Like the others, he’d kept drinking.

  It had been something of a shock to find himself on a stone floor the next morning inside a jail cell. The place had been noisy and the head jailer had come to see him when a guard had alerted him that their prisoner was awake.

  “Where are the others?” Denny had asked, sitting up and wishing the world would stop spinning.

  The head jailer had paced. “My name is Christoph and I oversee things here.”

  Denny had panicked that he’d been left behind, and waited for the news.

  “Your friends refused to pay their bill and your captain, Lester Piggins, will not pay for it. He says he will leave you all here until you’ve learned your lesson.”