Chapter 35: Operation Barbar-ASS-Ahhhhhhhh

'Yeah, I know, I just want everything to be perfect ... Nyat. I am not nervous! ... Seriously, shut up ... You should be sorry. You're lucky my salami tactics haven't liberated Switzerland yet ... Stop changing the subject! D-do you think he'll like it? ... Ok, maybe I am nervous! You win! What then???? ... You actually think he will? ... Really? - Ok, spasibo, I guess ... Aren't you going to wish me good luck?? -'

Adolf Hitler emerged from the bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel, his wedding ring and a cunty iron cross necklace.  Wet from the shower, his hair clustered over his head, like a soggy branflake dripping with milk, whilst his waxy abdomen glistened in glee. 

'Who are you talking to, Joseph?' he asked. 

'Uhhh...nobody, my little Kartoshka cake. You should be getting ready...It's almost time for your special surprise...'

'Nuh uh...' Adolf folded his arms over his slightly itchy chest in annoyance. 'I want to know who you were talking to.'

Stalin sighed, sensually slamming the receiver down like the dirty whore it was. It was the first night of their Honeymoon and it was already off to a bad start...

'Joseph,' glared Hitler. 'Tell me.'

Joseph took a deep, raspy inhalation, attempting to find his inner Zen by counting the victims of the Great Purge under his breathe. 

Zinoviev ... Kamenev ... That guy with the glasses? Radek - that's right! ... Bukharin ... Rykov ... Yezhov, himself...

Stalin smiled. 'Fine. Whatever you want, Addie, my love. I was talking to Jürg, ok? Happy?' 

It was as if a bomb had been set off.

'Nein!' screamed the Führer, veins throbbing in his wispy neck. 'That is not ok, Joseph! And I am not happy, verdammt! I'm stuck in this stupid, unterlegen country with a husband who doesn't even respect the one boundary-'

'You said you wanted to honeymoon in Poland, Addie! For old times sake... I installed a puppet government and everything so we could-'

'Nein!' cried Adolf again, his red, inflamed fists screwed up in child-like rage. 'I-I-'

Joseph grabbed Adolf's wrists with a burning intensity. 'Hey...'

But Hitler was already in floods of tears. It was like in the Bible. 'I-I forgot how bad the food here is, J-j-joseph... And all the buildings are in pieces! It's so...so unromantic!!'

'Well, whose fault is that?' murmured Stalin. But his voice was softer now. Gentler...

Embracing Adolf's moist body, he tenderly kissed his collarbone, leaving a ghostly whisper of saliva, a little mark of ownership.

'Silly boy...It's ok. I've got you...'

Snuffling, Adolf looked up. Snot had invaded his nostrils as if motivated by cosmic justice. 'T-this is the worst thing to ever happen to anyone ever...' he sniffed, nevertheless allowing himself to relax into Joseph's meaty grip. 

'It's ok...' Stalin repeated calmly. 'I've got you...'

*

'J-joseph!'

'Down here, Addie...That's right...'

The candlelight flickered off the bullet-riddled walls of the underground bunker Stalin had rented for the evening off Airbnb. Already oiled and shirtless, the long-limbed man of steel sat waiting, his own steel stood to attention. Expectant...

'Adolf...' purred Joseph as his husband strutted down the trembling stairs and into view. The Russian gasped - he was wearing...O BOZE MOI-

Hitler was wearing a maid outfit, complete with a feather duster, a mini bonnet and lacy tights that enhanced, rather than hid, his voluminous curvature. His little skirt tickled the skin just above his sweaty thighs, as if it longed for a breeze to...liberate it...from the shackles of the Führer's juicy summer bod. Well, Stalin's hands would suffice...

Without warning, he pounced. Intoxicated with his fanatic urges, Joseph slammed his lush prey against the wall, sharply grinding Adolf's hips backwards with his own, as his hands animalistically manhandled the skirt upwards, raking at Adolf's fishnets so as to better grope at the soft skin beneath. He felt them rip. Oh da...

Stunned, Adolf swallowed hard. Stars flashing before him, he couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't gasp, couldn't even sob. Instead, he gazed incoherently into the piercing eyes that owned him, willing Stalin to invade him, to invade all of him, until there was nothing less to invade anymore. Until his lebensraum was reduced to nothing but a plaything for his harsh Slavic God to use at the lightest possible whim. Dazed, he felt himself sink to his knees, as Stalin's arms, shaking with hunger, found their way, roughly, to his throat, and then to his lips...

'You've been a real nuisance today,' rasped Joseph, running a finger over Adolf's moist mouth hole. 'A shame, really, since you're so...appetising...to look at...'

'Joseph please p-puni-'

'Shut up.'

Stalin clamped down on Adolf's mouth with his fist, obliterating the chance of any dissent. As he undid the buttons of that treacherous dress with his Caucasian teeth, the he  grunted with a raw voracity, his eyes widening alarmingly as the fabric fell away, leaving Adolf's bare chest exposed. Exposed and ready for the taking.

Hitler was trembling with pleasure...

Stalin pulled Adolf's mouth open with his fingers, before venturing into the wetness within, pausing for dramatic effect. Adolf spluttered hornily as Joseph forced himself deeper and deeper towards his throat. Then, leaning over Hitler, he spat, ferociously, into the gap between his assertive fingers, the mini Belomor canal he had nationalised.  

'Achhnnggggg-'

'I see I've got your full attention now...' Joseph whispered sultrily, narrowly suppressing an orgasm at the cute choking noises emanating from his little Nazi fuckdoll. 'So what am I going to do with you? Let me think strategically...What if I just left you here? To reflect on your actions...'

Without warning, he took his hand out of Adolf's mouth before slapping him, hard, right across the face, watching in sheer delight as his assertive saliva danced across the German's cheek as Hitler tried, hopelessly, to moan.

 'Desperate...Alone...Helpless...'

Stalin began to tie Adolf to the ceiling, forcing his knobby knees apart, until his cheeks were spread wider than the SS eagle. Until he was covered in more rope than the Nuremburg defendants... (A/N: Wait did the Nuremburg trials still happen in this timeline??? I guess that wouldn't make sense - unless half the characters have secretly been zombies the whole time - PLOT TWIST? Or maybe it was all a dream...) 

Hitler met Joseph's gaze, imploring, urgent. It was all he could do. All other options had been stripped from him like his slutty little maid dress. Or the Battle of Kursk...

'Isn't this fun, Addie?' Stalin grinned, the stresses of the day liquidating themselves rapidly before him, like a swarm of ant-sized kulaks being carried away with a glorious gust of Siberian wind. 'Tied up with nowhere to go...Da?'

In vein and embarrassed, Hitler tried to shake his head. Salivating seductively, Stalin leaned in, until their faces were almost touching, until Adolf could feel the Iron Man's Cyrillic-flavoured breath teasing his cheeks like the Soviet demands at the Yalta conference. 

'Oh' Stalin growled. 'I forgot...What a pity - I'm going to have to make a decision for you. Oh well...'

As Joseph blindfolded him with a spare flag of the Georgian SSR, Adolf ached with the melancholic whispers of his testicle, which was calling out for Stalin's dark embrace. But it was no use...

His pulsating butthole pined for the hard thrusts of communistic cock. Oh...praise Jesus... Dazed, Adolf felt something very hard pop into his throbbing bussy... 

But then... Stalin's footsteps, and his low, taunting, irresistible, cackle, monetarily pervaded the air. 

And then...