Warning: In this chapter are some accounts from many sources taken after the Second World War of atrocities and cruelty of the Concentration Camps. They are NOT fiction. They are real. I put them in a story to entertain, yes, but we need to remember so it NEVER happens again. I am ashamed of what Humans can do to other people. We will never forget!!
There is a story inside this story, which will come out in more graphic detail. I will warn you when it is. I hope you put your big boy pants on a read it. It will change your views of history or reenforce what you know was HORRIFIC. If you see it that way, congratulate yourselves. You are Human!
Story: Makarovia? Where the Hell Is That!?
Chapter 9 The Holocaust and Gay Sex Explained
Author: Eric McQueen (mcqueen.richarderic@gmail.com)
Adult Readers, Sexual Situations, Sex
Freedom of expression is precious. To do that Nifty needs help. Your donation is greatly desired. Give to http://donate.nifty.org/ or this story ends and all the others! That would be a crime!
Warning: In this chapter are some accounts from many sources taken after the Second World War of atrocities and cruelty of the Concentration Camps. They are NOT fiction. They are real. I put them in a story to entertain, yes, but we need to remember so it NEVER happens again. I am ashamed of what Humans can do to other people. We will never forget!!
There is a story inside this story, which will come out in more graphic detail. I will warn you when it is. I hope you put your big boy pants on a read it. It will change your views of history or reenforce what you know was HORRIFIC. If you see it that way, congratulate yourselves. You are Human!
The Holocaust and Gay Sex Explained
The Proposal was great and the reception afterwards was phenomenal. Peter and I were officially engaged. I still say we might have as well done the legal part, too. I know, it's tradition and a custom for Makarovia. The world was seeing this "old world" country...some people for the first time having never even known the country even existed...this old world was ahead of things socially. Being generous helped as Makarovia made friends with some powerful world powers and that generosity would keep us safe from others that that thought nothing of bullying others to get what they want. Well, not us! We had a few bigger and tougher friends that would watch our backs. Yes, it was so they could get some of the uranium. So? When you have something others need and really want, we became visible to keep the world in check. No one wanted to be seen being mean. Well, almost no one. The extremists were from one of those friends and proved themselves an extreme embarrassment to that trusted friend.
I still had the new website to deal with and this was going to be an ongoing project. The three photographers were showing me numerous photos. Daryl was the nature guy and he had some beautiful pictures of everything from wildlife like deer and some butterflies. Kenny had pictures of the mountainous landscapes he took showed some majesty and beauty. There were forests here in Makarovia which showed up beautifully with green foliage and even a squirrel eating whatever. But Becky's pictures...I marveled at the photos that showed a happy, working, and diverse people. Becky was good at both candid shots and posed shots, showing many families...and couples that were both male and both female, but also the many other families that were families containing a mother, father, and children.
What was interesting was the numbers...and I'm sorry again, but East Europeans had particular manners and behaviors that are different than other places in the world...well like the way they classify everything in the West in one lump from England, Germany and others...North America made up of both Canada and the United States...for instance, in going down a row of seated people at a theater, a Colosseum, at a play or concert...never ever would an Eastern European man even consider leaning forward to lessen the room needed to get through by turning his butt to you even if the seats in front of him were empty, that would be a huge social blunder! I bring that up, because of our numbers were because behaviors are a lot times...are learned. There were only a few that would I have considered effeminate by action or speech. Most of the homosexuals here didn't gush, call each other girlfriend or anything like that. Again! I don't think any of them thought about it...don't hate me if you are, they just weren't...fabulous. We emulate what we see and it becomes part of ourselves, but...most of the ones effeminate were not Eastern European, but were from the West! Not that I'm saying you should or shouldn't be, but most of that was learned! Most of the guys were just...guys. I'd taken some of those various tests before...to see how gay I was. Other than my musical tastes...as in loving Broadway shows...not liking competitive sports...I was surprised when I discovered just how gay I was. However, my aversion to all things shopping when it came to what I wore brought those numbers to the straight side. I admit to liking that part. Was that right or wrong? I don't know, but here I am. I was struggling at that time, so give me a break. Peter scored low on the gay scale, too, which is why I probably was attracted to him. The gay men in Makarovia scored very low on the "gay side." Peter was right; there were some crossdressers, but again...not many. There were some that I was surprised were really female. I'd heard of bull-dykes, but...again, I had not known many. One couple surprised me when I met them because I was guilty of stereotyping them myself. There was a couple...married, who I swore the pretty woman had a nice-looking husband! I mean the bull-dyke was her husband! Her husband was a she! I mean, he was...it was a man whether or not this man had a dick or not! Only to find out she was one of those...butch lesbians. I was surprised! How did I miss that!? I told myself, I wasn't involved with the marriage, why should it matter!? I'm guilty!
The total population was pretty much fifty-five to forty-five percent. Fifty- five percent were regular heterosexual people. Forty-five percent were gay. Almost half of the population was homosexual! That is unusually high. Or was it? If what you are was unwelcome where you live, wouldn't you look for somewhere you could be you? Boris and Yuri did and many others. Now, of that forty-five percent...take them as a whole...and sorry again ladies...only about thirty percent of that total number of homosexuals that were lesbian. During World War II it was the men who were arrested the most. No, there were women arrested, and they did suffer, but their punishment was not always as severe! Women were fixable. They are non-sexual beings. Lesbians they tried to cure by making them have sex with the gay men. They were forced to serve the SS and administrators in camp brothels. The life expectancy in a brothel was six months. No happy ending for anyone. There were rapes of women, but one hundred thousand men were interned in these camps. Many men were raped! Sexual discrimination even by oppressors was reflected in that number. It seemed if a man was caught with another man...if he was giving the other man his cock up the other's ass, he suffered less, though I'm not sure how that was measured or could be measured. The man who enjoyed taking it up the ass got it worse! It seemed where you put your cock was less important if you didn't bottom.
How I found out was when I was looking for some history about these people and how Makarovia became what it was. A sanctuary. I asked Olek who sent me to the archives. That was another room I didn't know about. He told me where I needed to go. Arriving there, I saw shelves of books and papers around. Stacked neatly and labeled as what they are. As I was looking, Gretchen, a dark-haired woman in her mid-thirties passed by this unoccupied room, glanced in when she saw someone in it.
"Can I help you find something, Your Lordship?"
I stiffened at the use of the titles. "Yes, you can. First, I know there are protocols and procedures...I appreciate that, but is it possible to call me Eric?"
Gretchen laughed knowing what I preferred. "It is possible."
"I'm looking into the history of Makarovia." I said. "Specifically, about those you hid here."
Gretchen nodded. "Certainly." She motioned for me to follow and led me to another room where there were the numerous wooden filing cabinets all labeled. "There was a project that began about 1994 or 95 where a historian came to do a book." She shook her head. "Actually, it started in the 1950s, but...unfortunately, the historian passed away before he got too far." She gave a sad sigh and shrug. "Until communism fell apart in Russia, we kept things secure in the mines to keep eyes from just happening on them. It is one thing to know they are here, but another to have documentation about them with names and histories. That part of the project began in the mid-1950s to assist with the healing, but we didn't want the Soviets to get to these records." She looked at me hoping I'd understand. "In 1994 is when Henry Brown came and asked about us. The writer was also American."
"Really?"
"If he was allowed to look at the files and stay here at the palace...he was going to put them on computer disks." She waved to a desk and walked over to some drawers which she opened. She picked up a plastic container with these diskettes. "Here is what he got through. Then there was King Olek the First's death and the discovery of the uranium and..." she smiled giving me the file disks. "...but it's here. There are more letters in those drawers over here." She opened a drawer again and pulled out some large, wrapped envelopes. "In here are the original handwritten letters, translated in Makarovian. When Henry died unexpectedly and the changes here politically...this sort of went to the side and was forgotten. It's all here."
"Thank you, Gretchen."
"Certainly, My L-"
"Gretchen." I warned as I groused lightly looking at her. "Do we have a computer that will read a diskette like these?"
"That I can't help you with," Gretchen said. "But there are still some original letters in there."
I nodded. "Thank you." I tapped the box of diskettes against my chin. "I wonder if David knows where I can get these read? All the disks now are CDs or those memory sticks."
There was a desk with a chair which I sat and opened an envelope, I saw the original letter which was in German and the Makarovian translation and opened it. What I read...after the first couple of sentences, I began to sit up more. It was translation was written in Makarovian, but...this was a firsthand account of some things and all of them were real. This one was a man who identified himself as Fritz. Stealing a German Youth uniform, he was under twenty and he went to rescue his lover who was being sent to Auschwitz concentration camp. He lover was Jewish! His lover refused to leave without his parents and family, his lover was killed with his family, but Fritz survived and fled a long way and just happening on Makarovia. I turned to the next letter and was caught again in the words. I read accounts of fingernails torn off. Bowels ruptured when a victim was raped by a gun! A rifle! Yet, I kept reading. As ghastly as the writings were about...I couldn't stop reading them! I was sick like I might throw up on more than a few of them. In a camp, one recalled for the need for a public execution...who they chose he was not a man, he was a BOY! He was only eighteen years old!!! The man that wrote this letter knew him and could do nothing but watch as guards stripped the boy, put a bucket over his head and repeatedly banged on it, released trained German Shepherd dogs where he was forced to watch this boy mauled and literally torn apart while he was alive! On that, I did sort of throw up, not a lot, but I tasted it.
I knew why the pages were beginning to get blurry, but I read more. Account after account of rapes by the Nazi troopers sodomizing men with...yes, their own dicks, but also with objects like the gun or clubs or even a big fork where the prongs tore apart his insides...and even splintery wooden post!! These poor men were less than those held as criminals, asocial or Roma...the gypsies!
Then one I read where one of two lovers was raped, again and again, breaking through the bowels and he would have bled to death! It was only because of a sudden fire they had to stop and his lover took the chance and got them both away and the weather was nicer at that time and his lover kept him alive and cared for him until they got to Makarovia moving at night. I cried reading this account of this man...what they did to him...his lover and he escaped and came to Makarovia where they were hidden and then after the war welcomed to remain and even married. Yes. Legally married in Makarovia in 1948! Before it was legal in any country! They lived another thirty years together, but their account broke my heart as I just...wept. This wasn't just a sad movie or song, this really happened. I mean, I didn't even try to stop my tears. These men earned my tears, they deserved those tears and I gave them freely. This one time, there was no one-upping anybody on anything on who suffered most! All of them suffered! They didn't have to. Peter and I would be in trouble as we liked to do both! None of its fair, I know. Horrible. How dare we love someone that shares our gender! How dare we challenge what determined what a man is because we liked to bottom, as well as top!? Men are to fuck; men didn't get fucked! I was pissed off!!! Outraged! I was furious!!! Peter and I loved each other!! No one deserved any of this!! Who cares if we're the same gender!?
When I was sniffing wiping my face from the tears and just lowered my head to the desk...that was when Peter came in where I had been reading.
"Olek said..." Peter said to he was told to find me...saw me in a different room and saw the tears and was at my side instantly pulling me in up in an embrace. "My God, what's wrong?"
I was up hugging him tightly but waved the document I had in my hand. "This!" I said in tears. "This is horrible! Just horrible!!"
Peter looked and took the document and read quickly. "Oh, my god." He read and now he had to sit down as I had. He read more. "This is...horrible. A nightmarish Hell!!"
I waved at the letters, yellowed with age, but still there. "There are more! A lot more. All these are Makarovians that escaped during World War II!!"
Peter gathered some and read quickly. "How can anyone..." he shook his head as he read. "Those people who did this weren't Human!"
I shook my head. "This..." I said wiping my face again, "has to be on the website. These people...are what made Makarovia what it is!" I said. I looked at the other documents. "They kept these and recorded these accounts...why?"
"To let people know."
"And that's just what we'll do." I nodded. "That's just what we'll do. All of these letters...testimonials and other events will be entered and they will, at last, have a voice!" I looked as Peter read briefly another letter. "Right now, Olek better keep those...Germans...away from me. I'm liable to take their throats."
"This was almost a century ago...they didn't do it." Peter said weakly.
I nodded. "A distinction I can't do right now." I looked at Peter, smiling as I wiped a tear from his face. "So, tell me." I waved at the letters. "These men are dead now. At one time, I think the population was more than half homosexual. Where are all these other men coming from?"
Peter smiled. "Well, the Nazis weren't the only ones that made gay men suffer. There was Russia...and still is. The various countries that made up the USSR also suffered, most of the ones here now came from them."
I sighed. "Olek should worry about all those other countries sending them now." Then I frowned. "Are there people that identify as Islamic here?"
Peter shook his head. "Not really. Sure, they are persecuted, but they just don't know about us yet."
"Well, they will soon," I said sadly gathering the letters. "These need to be kept safe...protected." I frowned at a tear I'd let fall on one. "This can't happen again, just touching and reading like this. We need to scan them." I tapped the letters. "No, this horror...can not happen again. I mean, this whole Holocaust will never happen again to anyone."
We walked back to where Olek had an office. He looked up smiling, but then looked at our faces, swollen red eyes and he rose, concern in his eyes.
"What?"
I shook my head and waved at the box of letters. "This is what's wrong. In here are testimonies of eyewitnesses from the many Makarovians that came during World War II." I took out a couple of letters and gave them to Olek. "After this, they need to be sealed, but..." I waved at the letters. Before even five minutes had passed, Olek was doing what we had done. Wiping his face of the tears he shook his head. "I knew it was bad." He said clearing his throat. "I just never knew how bad it was."
I nodded. "These were our people," I said softly. "I don't mean homosexual, but they became Makarovians. Don't you think these need to be put on our website?"
Olek nodded. "Absolutely." He stood. "No one will wonder how we came about. If anything, other countries will read these and wonder why the hell wasn't their countries doing the same as Makarovia did!"
I held up the plastic container of diskettes. "Do you know where anyone has a computer that reads these?"
Olek smiled as he took the diskettes. "We don't throw anything away in Makarovia. I know we have one or two around." He came around his desk and wrapped his arms around both of us. "You know...you two are the most important people to me." He said kissing Peter on his face near his temple, then me. "I love you." He smiled. "Never will I allow anyone to do that to others, especially, not you two."
Peter and I smiled back and said. "We know."
We did locate a computer that was being used by an office that used a CPU with the disk port. I quickly accessed the files on the diskettes, which, thank God, weren't encrypted. The computer had internet access, so I emailed all the files to myself. Once that was done, I turned to Peter.
"I promised to tell you now," I said. "I know it's still daylight..."
Peter grinned sadly, but I saw it in his eyes. "...but you want me." He nodded leaning in kissing me gently. "I need you right now, too."
Again, we knew each other and right now...we needed the comfort of that one person in our lives that we loved. He took my hand and we both headed for our bedroom. In the privacy there, we slowly undressed each other and those probing kisses were more...loving. No urgency. The idea of bottoming never was questioned. I did gladly for him and he did gladly for me. Both of us knew the other was loved. I love passion, but right now, just being close to Peter was all I needed. Yes, I needed him as much as he needed me. We just needed our time to simply...touch. Once we were both satisfied...for now, he said.
"I love you, Eric," Peter said again.
"I love you, Peter." My fingers in his hair.
"I was thinking...we need a memorial." Peter said propping on his hand and looking down at me.
"Okay." I nodded. "For Makarovia?"
He looked a little surprised. "Sure. Don't you think they deserve one?"
"I do." I nodded. "What this country did was nothing short of brave and miraculous. They hid, clothed and fed those people who came here, but a memorial should celebrate the many sacrifices of the people here and those that had to flee."
Peter nodded as he thought. "How about one that...mourns those that were needlessly lost to us. A memorial that celebrates those that got here and the ones that welcomed them once they did get here?"
I grinned at him. "Sure, that sounds great!" I pulled him back to close the gap again. "We need to find an artist."
Peter rolled his eyes. "Now where will we find a gay-friendly or a gay artist!? That will be hard."
"We could advertise for one?"
"Advertise!?" Peter chuckled. "We'll have crazy people respond!"
"And someone that won't be." I smiled as he began kissing along my jaw again as he continued to my neck where he knew my...places I preferred. I knew his, too. My arms went around him again pulling him tighter to me again. "But right now...I don't care." My hand pulling his head closer as he worked on my neck where I liked.
Peter chuckled. "You do care." He sat up a little.
"Not right now," I said pulling him for a more consuming kiss which he just laughed and willingly returned. "I'm kind of...distracted, but don't stop!" I rolled us so I was on top. "Now, it's my turn." I grinned bringing his arms up and quickly traced a trail up from the soft skin below his armpit up through the hairs making him yelp a laugh, but he didn't move. "I absolutely adore you, Peter."
Peter nodded a smile. "Only about half as much as I adore you."
Then...we had our passionate sex! Just because you came once or even twice, doesn't mean you're done. You just have to work harder, but we didn't mind that!
I stayed in our room to use our computer to go over what I'd copied from the diskettes and sent to myself and there were more letters and other things. Images, pictures of the men and women...sorry again, but most of them were men, there were some women, but, just a few. A lot of memory was used, but I found an inventory! There were recordings! Audio, but recordings and even where they were! I let out an excited cry, but were these tapes still there? "I love you, Henry Brown! Wherever you are!" There was a location in the archives and a number. The man was organized! Racing down the hall I went in the archives and searched the number labels and found the shelf with boxes. Numbers were what they were in most languages, so I understood. I opened one...and groaned at what I saw. It was recorded on one of those big recorders with the bigger audio tapes? Reel to reel? Magnetic audio tapes? Everything audio or musical now was digital. It was done in the fifties? Now, did we still have a tape recorder to play these on? I hated not knowing where things were! I looked for someone to ask but ended up back in Olek's office. I smiled when I entered the door. Two similar black heads of hair bent over a map on Olek's desk, looking at a map.
"Two Ivanov men with their heads together," I said grinning. "The world as we know it will vanish."
Olek looked up and smiled. "How's it going with all the research?"
I grinned. "Pretty good!" I nodded. "You don't have access to one of those old reel tape recorders? Something else they recycled in Makarovia?"
Olek smiled but shook his head. "Sorry. I'm sure we have one. I can ask."
Peter looked up quickly. "There are tapes?"
I nodded. "Interviews, pictures of the people are on the diskettes..." I grinned. "And labeled!" I held up a box to show the tapes. "But these, I'm interested in. To hear it in their own voices."
"Why? You don't speak German." Peter chuckled.
"I'll learn!" I said. "But to hear the timbre and inflection. To hear the pain in their voice. I don't want to, but I think it's important to feel the pain as much as possible. The voices will do that."
"Would Drew help you?" Olek asked.
"He's in England!" I said.
"And?" Olek asked logically.
I did pout, a little. "I wanted to hear it now."
"You have to wait," Peter said chuckling. "But I'm sure if Drew can't...though I know he will, this is that fay, fag and fairy shit he finds to report on and this is right up his alley." He shrugged. "Or we wait until we get back to Northeastern and we have Dean Sutton handle it."
I sighed and waved at the tapes. "These need to be digitally protected and preserved. Sealed."
Olek nodded. "You're right." He waved at the map. "We're scouting for some locations for the new generators."
I nodded. "Sure, it's our uranium. We should use it." I walked over. "What size generator?"
"One big one would cover most of Makarovia, but we thought some small generators, one small one could provide power for about twenty thousand homes. There are some smaller communities we can combine on one reactor. We'll begin construction soon, but most will have to wait until next year after the winter."
I nodded. "I've heard they can be rough."
"Wait. You'll find out during Christmas break." Olek chuckled. "We have the original power stations in Makarovia, like the one here is Stryia. The new power generators will have to be more distant from town." He waved at the map. "We've got potential sites found, with surveys, we'll find out this week." Then he looked hesitantly at me. "Dr. Schneider and another associate will be joining us at dinner tonight."
"The Germans." I simply said with no enthusiasm.
Peter knew me well and stood up straighter. "Eric." He said, not quite warningly.
"I know!" I said quickly. "THEY didn't do it!" I nodded as I held my hand up to stop him from going on. "I know." I couldn't look at them now. My feelings were too new and still raw about the whole thing.
"They are part of the work crews to build the reactors." Olek came from around the desk and turned me around. "I'm asking you to be there. Not as a king, but as my brother." He smiled and looked me in the eyes. "I told Dr. Schneider about the written testimonials. I told Dr. Schneider how you were feeling right now...how I felt when I read them. Just, tell her. She's very nice. She understands."
"She?" Peter walked over to his brother. "You left that part out when you told me."
Olek blushed knowing he had left it out. "I did? Well, she's attractive." He shrugged.
My eyebrows rose as I smiled at him. "She is?"
Olek shook his head and held his finger up almost in my face. "Don't be hurrying me down the aisle, we just met!" He snickered. "But I admit to wanting this to go well and see what can happen." He nodded with another smile. "Her name's Helga. Her associate is Georg Meier. You'll get to know them and see not all Germans think the same way."
He and Queen Alla's reaction to me were surprising to me when we first met. I could at least give her a chance. That's more than fair.
I nodded and hugged Olek. "I will, but I won't say I won't hope you go down the aisle soon, but it's your choice."
"Great!" Olek smiled.
"And I'll be on my best behavior," Peter promised with a smile I didn't quite understand. He seemed to allude to something he and Olek knew.
Olek nodded. "In the past...I was about to go off to Switzerland for school, and...a girl I liked came over to say good-bye..."
I looked at Peter. "What did you do?"
Peter looked away. "I don't remember." He said smiling and I knew he was lying.
"Peter."
"I was four!" Peter defended. "I was the little brother."
"It was a mouse," Olek said to me but was smiling at Peter. "Lowered on a string from above and dropped it down her blouse. Making her leave screaming!" Olek explained chuckling.
I grinned at Peter. "Shame on you."
"I was four!!" Peter said again like that explained it, then folded his arms over his chest. "Besides, she wasn't good enough for you, Olek. She had this weird laugh and...it wouldn't have worked out between you."
"She didn't have the Little Brother's Seal of Approval?" I asked.
Olek nodded. "I agree, she had visions of becoming a true Makarovian Queen."
I looked surprised. "But you are basically Russian." I pointed out. "I mean the family line is pretty much Russian. There are a lot of Russians all over Makarovia!" I had to admit, I was still cautious. "I'm very protective when it comes to people I care about...especially family...you are family."
Peter chuckled. "He is...very protective." He said coming up behind Olek and putting his arm around his brother's shoulder as his eyes almost twinkled at me. "Remember Brad? At Jocks?" He said Jocks in English.
"He was an ass," I growled.
"Jocks?" Olek repeated the word in English. "Not the man...oh, as in athletic supporters? The man athlete in the supporter and what's supported! I get it!"
"Eric was impressed by General Hammond's punch. I thought Eric was going to kill Brad."
Olek chuckled. "Really?"
"It was just a bloody nose, but if he put his hands on my future husband again and I would have killed him!" I hugged Olek again. "I worry about you. I want to see you find that one love." I shrugged. "If it's this Helga, fine. If not, there will be someone. I just don't want you to go through life alone."
Olek smiled. "I'm not alone. I have you two and Alla."
I shoved him lightly. "You know what I mean."
"I told him you still jerk off," Peter said it so casually, not worried it would bother his brother when he told me.
Olek wasn't bothered, in fact, he nodded. "Sure, I do. I'm male." He said simply. The explanation said it just was.
I was the one shocked. "See!?" I hit Peter lightly. "We...just didn't admit that so openly where I'm from!"
Olek nodded. "That is a little different here. My father did it." He shrugged and chuckled at a memory. "I was twelve when I walked in walked in and caught him doing it. He wasn't embarrassed at all. Of course, he stopped for the moment. He explained that's what human males did. My mother had died and he had yet met Alla..." he shrugged again. "He explained that men get urges and this was the way we deal with tension and these urges. Then he asked me if I did it. I was twelve! Of course, I had." Then Olek laughed. "He even recommended the right lotions and lubes! Told me if I had questions...ask him."
I smiled even bigger. "Yep, I know I loved this family now!"
Queen Alla explained her absence a few days, saying she was getting help from some other doctor groups, while we weren't a third world country, we just didn't have the manpower or supplies, so they'd come and look at the people of Makarovia. We had doctors here, but not many. There were things like child immunizations and basic checkups...especially in the remoter areas, they needed more help. She was off doing that.
That evening, Peter and I were anxious to meet this Dr. Schneider. We gathered where we always did and had drinks before dinner. Very snooty, huh? Then Olek walked in.
Both Peter and I were stunned. Olek was handsome, that was not surprising, but he looked....dashing! His hair was combed and styled well, he was casual with a white shirt open at the collar and pressed white pants. Must mostly...he was very relaxed! He walked by to pour a drink for himself. As he passed us I smelled...a pleasing odor.
"Olek." I grinned. "That's a different cologne."
Olek smiled as he poured his drink. "Do you like it?" He got close so we could smell it better.
"Very nice, brother." Peter putting his arm around me. "Kind of makes me want to...have you try some." He said almost in a growl to me.
"Maybe I'll borrow some." I smiled. "But promise you won't."
Olek was puzzled and frowned. "Why not?"
Now Peter blushed. "He likes my scent."
Olek's smile grew. "You have a scent?"
I threw my hands out. "Okay, since we're so open about other things in this family like jerking off...yes, he has a scent. It comes from his body hair...in places." I raised my arm and pointed to my own armpit and down to my own crotch. "I like his natural scent, okay?"
Olek swallowed some of his drink and grinned. "Oh. Okay."
It didn't take long before a woman led two people into the room. One was a man in about his mid-thirties and blond! I don't need to tell you about that. Blue eyes. Tall at about six feet and thin in his nice blue suit. Not a bad looking man. The woman had to be Helga. She was pretty. I need to explain this...she was in her late thirties with dark brown hair and about five feet and eight inches tall. Green eyes. She was pretty. I would find out later, that she played it down! She wore glasses! Nothing against being able to see, but the frames were those bigger ones, brown and the style wasn't bad, but it didn't add to her face! Her hair was combed and clean, but not one of those complicated styles that woman have sometimes. She wore a little lipstick and maybe some eyeshadow, but that was it! Her dress was not bad, but...again...I would learn she learned to dress this way! She wanted people to listen to her, she was smart and not concentrating on her looks made people take her more seriously. I was beginning to like her! And she hadn't even spoken yet! Then again, I liked the complications!
"Are we late, Your Majesty?" Helga asked in Makarovian! Well, it was more Ukrainian, but she was trying.
"Of course not, Dr. Schneider," Olek said in English as he smiled coming to her, taking her hand, but hardly shaking it...more holding it. "It's good to see you, but please. I'm Olek. We can drop the titles, okay? And since we're all fluent in English?" He looked at the other man. "Do you speak English?"
The man gave a quick nod. "Of course, Your Majesty."
Helga smiled and touched Georg. "This is Georg Meier, he's one of my crew." She waved at Olek. "This is King Olek Ivanov."
The man shook Olek's hand and gave a sharp bow of his head only Germans seemed to give. "It's an honor, Your Majesty." He knew Olek's invitation to call him Olek was really for Helga.
Olek waved to us. "My brothers Peter Ivanov and his fiancé, Eric Richards."
Helga shook both our hands but stopped when she got to me. "Your brother told me about what you found." She said and I watched as emotion came on her face. Sorrow, regret, and it was sincere. "I am so, so sorry about what my people did then. Nothing like that should have ever have happened."
I nodded and smiled at her. "I agree, but every country has things we have done in the past that we shouldn't have. Our shame is slavery."
Georg didn't know about this. "What? What happened?"
So, I explained to him about the written testimonies and recordings the citizens of Makarovia had left when they fled Germany and Western Europe and finally told what happened. Georg's eyes widened, then his eyebrows came together. He was getting angry.
"And what are you doing with these...testimonies?" Georg asked testily.
"They go on our new Website. The letters and pictures...names..." I answered. "I hope that even the verbal testimonies will go on there. I have recordings taken back then. Everyone can hear it in the people's own voices."
"Why!?" Georg balked.
"Because it happened!" I shot back. "Forgetting means it can happen again! It won't if we remind people!"
Helga nodded. "I think that marvelous. I can't express how despicable what they did was...words can't even come close. I am so sorry."
That's when Georg shouted. "Warum entschuldigst du dich? Zu Ihnen!? Nichts geschah mit Ihnen, außerdem waren diese Männer kriminelle!"
Helga spun on Georg angrily. "English Georg!! I want you to say what you just said in English!!"
Georg turned away fuming, but he turned back. "I said, Why are you apologizing. Nothing happened to them, besides these men were criminals."
Helga shook her head. "They were NOT criminals!! They were human beings!" She shook her head. "The reason you don't see it is because it didn't happen in your family. It did mine! Half of my cousins are Jewish!"
I groaned know she understood more than I did about the suffering. "The Jews; how many were killed?"
"Between five and six million," Helga said sadly. "Nearly ten million taken to camps."
I shook my head. "Five or six million deaths." I shrugged. "We only had a hundred thousand."
"But how many survived?" Helga asked, but didn't wait for the answer. "Five to ten thousand! That's it! Not even half!!"
"So, you're Jewish?" I asked grinning at the idea of adding that to the mixture of Makarovian blood of the royal line.
"Not a drop." Helga sighed sadly. "My grandfather's brother married a Jewish girl during those times. They hid her family once they started bringing them in and kept it secret from the SS. The next generations married others of the Hebrew faith. My Aunt, dad's sister married a Jewish man." She turned angrily to Georg. "Many of my cousins are Jewish!"
"But if this comes out, it will just bring shame to Germany!" Georg protested. "My father said all those in the concentration camps were criminals. Nobody around there knew what was going on in the camps."
"BullSHIT!" Helga shouted back and even Georg backed away at the venomous look in her eyes. She learned that English very well. "They knew! They all knew. They knew the white, grey stuff falling from the sky wasn't snow! They most certainly knew, but they didn't care, because it wasn't about them." She shook her head. "No. If you don't want to be here, fine. I'm sure we can find someone else to help out. Those poor men that came here during that horrible time...thank GOD they had people willing to hide and shelter them. It will bring shame to Germany and Germany should be. I am German with no Jewish blood at all and I am very, very ashamed." She waved at me and Peter. "These men are getting married, Georg. Is that a crime?"
The fear he could lose his job he didn't answer honestly.
"I prefer truth, Georg," I said quietly. "If you have a problem with it, just say so. You won't be ousted from Makarovia because of what you think. You may be uncomfortable here as gays are everywhere in Makarovia, but pray like I do every day...Olek is here alive and well a while," I looked at Olek, "and you better be." I pointed at Olek who nodded smiling back with a little wave, "because if he isn't." I pointed to Peter. "He will be the one to speak to about anything Makarovian. Including the uranium."
Georg swallowed audibly. "It's just...not...natural."
Peter nodded. "Then get to know us. You'll see it's very natural."
"You don't fit together," Georg said.
Olek chuckled. "Then you really do need to get to know them, they do most definitely fit together." Then he grinned as he would often understand what you said perfectly, but he would say it again saying what was really said. "Oh, you mean physically fit." He shrugged. "To get that information, you will have to get to know them pretty damned well before they tell you that. I say they do from what I overhear occasionally." He waved at us. "Only when passing by...twice...loud."
Now, it was my turn to blush. "Sorry."
"Don't be." Olek grinned. "I'm jealous!"
Helga turned to me. "If there's anything I can help with...I know you don't speak German, but I can help with the translations." She offered. "I mean it. Anything at all needed."
I did like her! Georg would be tough. I won David over because he was willing to change. Would Georg be willing to change? "Thank you," I said and hugged her. You know I like those hugs.
That evening Peter and I didn't do anything but were ourselves. The touches and the occasional kiss. Georg would simply have to adjust.
We did have a nice dinner, but I watched as Georg would look over whenever Peter would...reach out...without real thought from Peter, and take my hand. You need both hands to eat, so we would break and rejoin the hands. That was just us. I smiled as Olek talked, most mostly it was to Helga. Their conversation seemed to go well. I admit I was a little jealous. I really loved Olek. Understand what I mean. I loved Olek the man, my future brother-in-law. More important, he was my good friend. The idea that someone could take his attention away...I was jealous! It was childish of me, I knew that. He deserved a friend that was just for him! If that's Helga, fine, but she'd better appreciate if she got him. If she broke his heart, I'd kill her. Then again, Peter would, too. They seemed to be getting along well. Damn it. I kept telling myself that was a good thing.
"So, what thing from your country are you ashamed of?" Georg asked me suddenly as I contemplated possibilities for Olek. His words were clear and he spoke English very well, but accented. He spoke German, of course, French, Spanish and then English...in that order. It was clear to see he spoke German and English more.
I smiled as Georg brought my attention back. "There is no one thing. There are a great number of things. The most prominent and more recent atrocity that comes quickly to mind was our treatment of Japanese citizens," I raised finger, "US citizens, mind you, but of Japanese descent during World War II. There's still racism is rampant everywhere...KKK, Neo-Nazis, Skinheads against people with dark skin were harassed, both African descended and Latino. People we refer to as black were kept from good educations and prevented from going to school with white people. Every time they got a step up, these groups came to stop them. They were hunted like animals and the oppressed people got angry...and they should be! They were lynched, or just brutally murdered...many times by law enforcement that was supposed to find the very killers. Being rotten is just a Human trait. It's stupid, but unfortunately, Human. There's no one country that's to blame really. The British knew they were very superior. They went overseas but brought England with them. China had neighborhoods that were British in construction, hired locals as servants where the British kept treating everyone native there as less than they were. The British knew who they were. They also had slaves, which the United States did the same thing because we are British mostly and they brought England here where we just kept doing it the colonies. We, the United States and England, would bring people from all over Africa...we enslaved the Native Americans that lived there first and turned them into slaves on their own land because we were superior? We brought natives from Africa, never asking if they could come and help, but just took them and put people to work because we could. We didn't have to pay them. We told ourselves because of the skin color, they had no soul? Why? So, we could sleep at night? We abused women, men, and children. Men it was usually physical, with women it was both physical and sexual. Children I don't even want to know what was done to them. They were no soul slaves, just short of the cow in the barn and they couldn't fight back, if they did, they died! I can bet you there were a number of men sexually abused. There are some very handsome men who are African." I sighed. "Even in organized religion. I have a friend who was raised Southern Baptist when he found out why there were different Baptist Conventions, he left the church."
"Why?" Georg asked. "What's wrong with being Baptist?"
"Southern Baptist. The Baptist Plantation owners in the South didn't want to give up their slaves when the North said there shouldn't be slaves and these Southerner plantation owners formed the Southern Baptist Convention so they would get no pressure from the Baptist Convention." I smiled as Georg seemed to be listening, but was still having trouble with something. I pressed on. "People are very nice. People are very cruel. They can be loving and warm and kind. They can also be sadistic, cold, and rotten to their very core. Those men that left Germany because they were homosexual weren't hurting anyone. They loved someone that others thought they shouldn't, because they did things with that other person...with that other person's happy permission," I stressed, "because they loved that person!?"
Georg shook his head and said firmly. "But that's just...wrong." He leaned forward and whispered. "It's sick."
I wasn't upset or angry. "We're just talking," I said quietly as I noticed Olek look overlooking concerned. I smiled and waved for him to continue his conversation. I looked back at Georg. "That's all. Talking. We're talking, but are you willing to listen? Or is your views on life that perfect and absolute?"
"You want to change my mind," Georg said.
I nodded. "Perhaps it should be." I looked as Olek and Helga were now in a much deeper conversation. "Are you willing to listen?"
"Certainly," Georg said.
"Olek," I said bringing his eyes to me. "Do you mind if we take Georg and show him around?"
Olek looked puzzled at Georg. "Is everything alright?"
"We're just talking." Peter smiled with a shrug. "We promise no harm to our new friend Georg."
"Okay?" Olek said hesitantly.
"Relax, Olek." I chuckled. "You will be fine with just Helga."
He chuckled and nodded. "Okay." He looked at Peter and me as he waggled his finger at us. "Play nice."
"We always do," I said as we rose to walk through the palace.
"Would you like something to drink?" Peter asked going to the bar in the family room.
"Do you have Scotch?" Georg asked.
Peter grinned. "I like those, too." He handed Georg his glass.
Georg sat, relaxed and took his drink. "Change my mind, if you can."
"You don't really sound ready to hear," I said taking my own drink. "Why don't I share...some things I found out about my own people. One of the examples we have; there are a lot of plantations in the South. One of them is a pretty famous one used often in movies and mini-series...I am a Southerner. I was born and raised in the South. I am not proud of that. There's nothing to be proud of. I was born there and didn't earn the right to make that claim, I'm just from there."
I continued. "Taking a tour of the place while I was in high school, the history about the South was fresh in my mind. On the tour, the guide was telling us what the various buildings were used for...one a single room. A tiny house. I asked and was told it was a family dwelling." I laughed. "Making it sound like a single family lived there. There were more than just one family. Twenty, forty, eighty?" I shrugged. "Looking at the size of the plantation and knowing what they grew, they had to have plenty of slaves and the four buildings that were the houses for all of them. Not enough for all slaves needed and house one family for all of it. Then there was a building they said was for the children to go to school. I said to be sure to say that was the children of the main house...children that were white! No African child would be allowed. It was against the law! They were slaves and couldn't just stop working because it was too hot or they didn't feel well...they had to keep working! The version of history these people were trying to make me believe wasn't true. Revised and not as harsh, is a lie." I looked at Georg. "I'm not getting into the homosexual thing yet, but you do know there were deaths in the camps?"
Georg nodded. "There were. It was a prison camp. These people were criminals."
"Jews?" Peter asked. "They all were criminals...millions of them?"
"The photos show horrible conditions," I said.
"Again, they were prisoners in prison. Prison should be harsh; the photos show that. It wasn't supposed to be pleasant." Georg said.
"Even a convict doesn't deserve what I know and have seen."
"The Jews may have been guilty of things, but millions!? Children! What would a little four-year-old do to be punished like this? They often were taken alive as experiments...medically."
"No," Georg said, but it didn't have the attitude.
"Megenle, Goebbels...Eichmann? There is documented evidence. Evidence! What did those millions do to deserve this punishment?"
"They caused a depression because they were bankers, lawyers. They were..." Georg thought, "I am fluent in English, if I get something wrong...they were...left wing?" He waited for a nod and smiled when I nodded, telling him he was right.
"The numbers don't reflect that," I said. "It can be verified by computer, but the right wing...the Protestants and Catholics...Germans were guilty as well. The Jews got the blame. Most jumped on that to have a scapegoat. The right wing had bankers, lawyers, but also the Communists and Corporate. The Jewish participants did overshadow the Germans there. There were a number of rural Germans that were part of the right." I sat back. I wanted to be sure to approach him with him feeling I was confrontational. "Who told you that all in the camps were criminals?"
"My father," Georg said.
"How did he know?" Peter asked.
Georg sighed. "His father...my grandfather told him. He was a Nazi."
I nodded. "So, he was there."
"He was in the service." Georg nodded.
"Did he serve in the camps?" Peter asked.
"No, he lied about his age to join during the last three years of the war," Georg admitted. "He had been part of the German Youth Program. He was only sixteen. He was in battle."
I nodded. "Is it possible he told you that they were criminals to protect you...himself and save embarrassment because no one would approve?" I asked.
"Is it possible they really were criminals?" Georg asked a little testy and his arms across his chest.
I pointed at him. "See? You're closing up. You're no longer receptive."
Georg looked down at himself and sighed. "I just don't like where this is heading." He admitted letting his arms down.
"Where is it we are heading?" I asked.
"Where you convince me of your version of the truth." Georg looked away.
"That isn't true," I said. "We're heading for the truth. Truth is the truth, there are no versions, it simply is." I said. "But you want me to believe your grandfather's version of the truth is that truth. There is evidence to the contrary."
"People lie," Georg said.
"All of them? Thousands were liberated after the war. There are written and recorded testimonies from American Forces, British Forces and Russian Forces of the horrors they all saw. All of the accounts of survivors of the camps were the same from all the camps! Thousands and thousands said the same things! Why would all those people, I mean, the countries and freed prisoners all lie?" I leaned forward. "There is footage of some I saw in class...treatment of prisoners done by Germans themselves, for amusement later or other things. They are on the internet now. Both enemy soldiers and just prisoners. I can give you the websites addresses. If you're willing to look."
Georg was now less defensive. "You're destroying what I raised to believe."
"And if you were raised to believe the world is flat, my showing you the world from above telling you it's round?" I asked. "Should I let you believe what isn't true?"
Georg shook his head and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "This is history."
"History that shouldn't be swept under the rug." Peter pointed out. "It is very bad."
I smiled as I was expecting a bigger fight. "But you knew this, didn't you?"
Georg sighed sitting up and then getting up to walk. His thoughts clearly bothered him. "Do you know why I speak English so well?" He grinned.
I shook my head. "I just assumed everyone in Europe does."
He nodded and he laughed. "They do, but I was educated in the United States. I went to college in New York, but undergraduate and graduate school, nearly a decade in the United States." He shook his head. "I was confronted with these histories...everyone was telling me the same things. I refused to believe it." He shook his head. "I still don't believe it all."
"The world is round, Georg." I smiled. "You're not believing doesn't change the truth into a lie. It's still round. Now, back to Peter and me."
Georg looked and shook his head, but smiled at that. "You can't make me change my mind on that."
"But you think what we do is wrong," I said.
Georg shrugged. "It is!"
"Why?" I asked and the quickly said. "And before you answer, how open are you talking about sex?"
"I don't want to know what you two do," Georg said.
"Why not?" Peter asked. "Your statement saying you don't want to know; tells me you think you do know. How can you know if we don't talk about it?"
"We don't have to tell you what we do specifically," I said. "Other than that, we all have the same parts. Do you have a problem with saying what they are and what is done with them?"
Georg looked puzzled. "Words like cock, ass or fuck? No, I don't have a problem hearing or using the terms."
"The reason I ask, is this wonderful Ivanov family shocked me recently on how open they are with family about certain things. Some things I am the prude." I confessed with a chuckle. "So, what is it about homosexual loving you have a problem with?"
Georg looked in disbelief. "You can't ask me that. You know cocks aren't to go where you put them."
Peter grinned. "How old are you?"
"Thirty-four."
"Are you married?" Peter asked.
"I don't understand," Georg said.
"You're not a virgin, are you?" Peter asked more specifically.
"No! I was married, but divorced a few years ago." Georg answered. "Nothing serious after that."
"At first, was the sex good?" I asked.
Georg nodded. "It was."
"I'm only asking this part..." Peter began, "to make a point. You did more than just the missionary position." It was a statement.
"Sure."
"Oral sex?" Peter asked. "She to you and you to her?"
"Why do you want to know this?" Georg asked.
"We want to know because you know what we do," I said. "It's no secret. I would hope you don't deny yourself those wonderful things. I'll tell you what we do. He and I suck each other's' cocks. You know we have sex, meaning we do put them up each other's ass. That bothers you."
"It's an ass!!" He explained angrily. "Shit comes out of the ass; cocks don't go in! Any man that lets that happen is a woman!" He said heatedly.
I smiled. "And there it is." I got up. "And being a woman is bad."
Georg's eyes widened as knew what he said was...it wasn't what he was supposed to say. "I didn't say that."
Peter got up also and came up behind me. "You just said if a man lets a man stick his cock in his ass is woman...does that make him less of a man?"
"It's not what men do!"
"Yet millions of men disagree," I said. "Not just gay men, either. Many straight men know about those nerves in a man's ass that bring intense pleasure. They have their wives use dildos on them or alone. There are other toys like vibrators to bring them to climax. You've never done that with your wife or girlfriends?"
Fair skinned blondes can't hide their expressions well. He was turning red telling truth he didn't want to admit.
"So, you were wrong to do that?" Peter saw it, too. "It's just sex!"
"Do you know many gay men?" I asked seeing his discomfort.
"No." He shook his head. "I see them and avoid them."
"You can tell just by looking," I said.
"You two are not like them," Georg said. "But the ones I see around town...actions...even how they dress...the others in leather..."
"But we're not like them," Peter said.
Georg nodded. "That's one of the reasons I'm listening to you."
"There are guys that are not wanting to settle down. That goes for gay and straights. The singles bars and the online invitations for dates...some are for just sex. They are everywhere on the Internet. There are people that use sex as a weapon. Not all of us are the same way in how we see and want sex." I took Peter's hand. "I love Peter. There is nothing I wouldn't do for him. He doesn't hurt me. I like it. I feel closer to him when I let him top me."
Peter smiled leaning in kissing me. "I love Eric. I feel the same way. Whatever I can give him...it doesn't hurt."
"But it's the ass!!" Georg protested. "It has to stink! The few times..." he paused and then just said it, "I've done it...it stunk after a few minutes. That told me not to. Nothing should go in... except medication and a doctor's finger which hurt twice!"
"You have to adjust. The doctor was just in and out for an exam." I nodded laughing. "Sure. It can stink in the ass...if you don't take precautions. We have normal elimination habits, but we also use things to clean us out afterward. That way we can have spontaneous sex. We also use lubes that have good scents. We love each other. We're not cruisers or those men going from man to man. There are straight men that go from woman to woman. I want a life with Peter." I pleaded with Georg to consider what I was saying. "Those men in those camps, some probably were the ones to go from man to man. Some...were like us. They loved each other. I have one couple I want to do research on more. I know the names, but...they were barely in their twenties! They were taken to this camp and one named Milo Weir had to watch as his lover, named Bren Schultz was raped repeatedly by a number of guards...and not just with their cocks like they started with. It was only due to a fire Milo got Bren and escaped. Bren nearly died from the injuries he got. They came to Makarovia and hid. In 1948 they married and lived together for thirty-two years! That was true love and devotion! They loved each other. Just as Peter and I do." I looked at Peter. "I want more than thirty-two years though. I want a long and happy life with you."
Peter kissed me gently. "So, do I."
"I love you, Peter."
He kissed me again. "I know." He looked at Georg. "See? We do fit together." He hugged me closer. "I know he loves me. There's no one more important than he is. He makes me see I'm the most important to him. We fit."
Georg still looked uncomfortable seeing us together. "Just...give me...a little time."
I grinned at Georg. "We're not going anywhere. You have to adjust." I patted him on the shoulder. "Maybe you can convince me to reconsider my aversion of blonds."
"Excuse me," Georg said. "What's wrong with blonds?"
Peter nodded and leaned in a stage whispered. "His first love was a blond. Chuck sort of soured all of you blonds after they broke up."
"You came here because you wanted to," I said to Georg.
"I did," Georg admitted.
"But you knew what was here?" Peter asked. "Makarovia had a large population of homosexuals. You knew that."
Georg nodded. "I did and do."
I walked over closer to him. "You had doubts about the past before you even came here."
Georg didn't look at me. "There were all these people telling me what they knew really happened and what the truth was...but I just didn't believe it."
"Part of you did," Peter said. "You couldn't deny it. You're intelligent. I'm sure there were other projects you could have chosen from."
"You knew what was said about the men who came here and why they came here," I said smiling at him. "You wanted someone to challenge beliefs you've had for decades to make admit there is a truth you didn't believe." I bounced a little. "Georg, I can see hope here!"
"I'd like to see some of those testimonies," Georg said.
"I'll send you some copies I have on file." I nodded. "However, I will warn you...I cried through all of them. It's pretty upsetting. It's pretty graphic and they told the truth."
Georg nodded a little uncertain. "I understand."
"Okay," I said sadly.
Chapter 26