Epilogue

Many beautiful moons later...in the 70s to be specific...

Vyacheslav Mikhaylovich Molotov woke up with a start. He had wet the bed with his juicy juices. Plus, Gulagführer Shitler was crying again...

Rolling out of bed and into his wheelchair with a sigh of indignation, he lifted the baby from his cradle. The wretched thing's tears ceased immediately at the familiar sight of Molotov's exposed rosy teat, which it latched onto with capitalistic greed. The yawning Russian glared disdainfully at the little creature as it sucked and sucked like a kulak-turned-vampire. 

He wondered how much more sperm his most trusted comrade, Joseph Stalin, was planning on pumping into his husband (Adolf Hitler's) receptive and unprotected bussy. It was getting ridiculous at this point...

It had been fine, fun even, the first time - with Vladimir-Friedrich "Bradley" Shitler. Feeling guilty for trying to sabotage their relationship, Molotov had even volunteered to act as a wet nurse for the happily wedded Shitlers! Big mistake...Now, 30 years, and 8 more children, later, Molotov's throbbing nipples were tired. And yet Stalin's veracious and authoritarian sex drive showed no sign of even a hint of mercy.  Typical...

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Throwing Gulagführer into a nearby draw and tucking his D cup boobies away, Molotov rolled downstairs, almost landing on his head (ramps hadn't been invented yet). The door opened with a sensual tug.

Standing in the cold was Molotov's own son, Gloopnak Unity Molotov-Igglepiggleovitch, armpit sweat greasing his stripper uniform...yet sporting a delightful expression. 

'Father...' hissed Glooby Doopy (as he was known on occasion), as he let himself into the kitchen...

'She said yes!'

*

Marx-Lenin-Stalin Shitler II was annoyed. That was a dire understatement - he was totally and utterly bummed out...so much so that he wanted to drown in a decently sizeable puddle. It was supposed to be his 15th birthday party...and yet his daddio, Joseph Stalin, and his dad, Adolf Hitler, had relegated him to the door, so he could jibber-jabber to a seemingly endless horde of guests about just how fantastic his older sister, Adolfa's, engagement was! It was just like that time Adolf had been forced to watch from a bush as this random Swiss guy he had met clubbing (who later turned out to be an expert in plane machinery for some reason) got it on (if you know what I'm sayin') with his bestie, former Supreme Commander of the Luftwaffe, Hermann Göring (AKA Hermy-G). Now, Adolf's teenage son had no idea that happened because it was well before he was born and the Führer didn't discuss such things with his offspring; however, the point stands that, put plainly, the situation Marx-Lenin-Stalin Shitler II had found himself in was not exactly wunderbar...

'Marxie!'

Marx-Lenin-Stalin Shitler II raised a shimmering eye (which appeared both an eerie yellow and a familiar brown depending on the lighting) to the man before him.

'Oh...what's crackin', Uncle Jürg...'

'Hey little man!' smiled Jürg Elias, who was a friend of his fathers' or whatever - Marx-Lenin-Stalin Shitler II didn't really care, 'Happy birthday! 15 huh?'

Marx-Lenin-Stalin Shitler II shrugged. He wished he was playing video games and drinking ALCOHOL rather than standing around at this baloney party. What a shame nobody understood him...

Uncle Jürg nodded inquisitively. 'How is the party?' 

'Just stellar...'

'Ja? As you know, Heinie-Pie, Hermzy and I have been away in Switzerland for the last few weeks (as I'm Swiss), and so we haven't been in touch. We were skiing, you know? In Switzerland. I think we sent a postcard? Did you get it?

Marx-Lenin-Stalin Shitler II sighed. 'Uhhhh I think so...'

'It is so lovely in Switzerland...' Jürg gazed momentarily into the distance, 'We were staying with my mother. She lives in Switzerland. You know, they actually make Swiss cheese in Switzerland? And genau so......Well, you must tell me everything about what you and your family have been up to while I was away (in Switzerland). It is true Adolfa and Glooby Doopy are engaged?'

'Yes...'

'Guet! That is huge news! I knew something big would happen while I was away in Switzerland...It always seems to. And you are keeping well?'

'Uh huh...'

Jürg jerked his head up and down eagerly, as if possessed by a puppet master on amphetamines. 'And how is your baby brother? I haven't seem him since leaving for Switzerland...'  

'Fab, you know...Uncle Molotov is looking after him.'

'Of course he is! And how is your daddy Joseph? He is still micro-managing the Soviet Union over Zoom, I presume?'

Marx-Lenin-Stalin Shitler II nodded. When would this end? Talking to people was so bogue. 

Jürg laughed. 'Some things never change! You know, when he said he was faking his death, I assumed he would be taking a backseat! And yet here we are, 20 years later, and he is still secretly behind Brezhnev's every move! It's crazy to think you weren't even born then, Marxie!'

'Sure is crazy...' 

'Oh...and how is your other daddy?' Jürg continued, even more excited somehow, 'Before I left...for Switzerland, might I add...he was getting really into crochet...?'

'He sure is...' said Marx-Lenin-Stalin Shitler II flatly, dying inside. 'His therapist recommended it to help with his anger issues...'

'Oh, that it nice! I actually think he might've mentioned that. Over the phone. While I was in Switzerland! You know, it stood out to me since all my therapist does is beg me to break up with your uncles...hee hee...I thought about that a lot whilst skiing. In Switzerland, you understand...?'

'Are Uncle Heinrich and Uncle Hermann here then?' Marx-Lenin-Stalin Shitler II asked apprehensively. Last birthday, Heinrich had given him a litre of tank oil and Hermann had accused him of being a Soviet spy before ejaculating over a group of Soviet diplomats while shrieking 'Achtung...Feind hört mit!' into a microphone. His dad had the most freaky-deaky friends. Well, Jürg was actually pretty square, to be fair. Square but talkative...

'No...' grinned Jürg, 'They're in the basement...'

Nevermind. 

'Right,' said Marx-Lenin-Stalin Shitler II, genuinely relieved. 

Jürg lowered his voice before deciding to continue for some reason: 'I locked them down there...They were naughty again. Don't worry...we are doing safe words and everything... You know, I've really grown in confidence since taking the reins in our relationship! Especially since our first trip to Switzerland as a throuple. That was years ago now, Marxie - just after we broke up that one time... But, as I say, it's weird...nobody is talking about how good for your mental health-'

'Ok.' 

Marx-Lenin-Stalin Shitler II took the opportunity to leave Jürg by the door. Maybe he shouldn't have. See, it was not like there was anything better for him at this lame-as-hell party.

Well, anyway, regretting his life decisions as he trotted across the dance floor, an even-more-bored Marx-Lenin-Stalin Shitler II spotted his sister, Adolfa Iosifovna, chatting excitedly with Gloopy Doopy (her groom to be), their daddio (Joseph Stalin, obvs), Vladimir-Friedrich "Bradley" (their oldest brother), Vyacheslav Mikhaylovich Molotov, (Gloopy Doopy's father), and a group of interchangeable Soviet diplomats. Marx-Lenin-Stalin Shitler II felt a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach. He turned the other way...

'Marx-Lenin-Stalin Shitler II!'

Marx-Lenin-Stalin Shitler II turned in alarm to see his other father, his dad (Adolf Hitler, duhhhh) marching towards him, righthand held above his shoulder for some reason, with an angry and alarmed disposition. He was accompanied by Uncle Joseph and Uncle Elon. And he smelled of sherry...

'H-h-h-h-h-hi sooooooooon! Whereeeee d'ya think yeeeeer goink, ja? I have important meeting with G-Goebbels and this o-other one...and I put you b-b-b-b--b-b-b-b-b-by door....' 

Marx-Lenin-Stalin Shitler II gave his dad the hairy eyeball. Adolf was balding, with his mustache only managing to cover half of his upper-lip; and he had shrunk embarrassingly in the last couple of years, allowing Marx-Lenin-Stalin Shitler II to tower over his dad with ease. He also didn't know how to wear heels, despite always wearing them, and so was perpetually falling over himself.

'Whatever. And I left Uncle Jürg by the door,' Marx-Lenin-Stalin Shitler II shrugged, 'I think he just got back from Austria...'

'O-o-oh...' trembled his dad, taking a DEEP breath, 'And w-w-where is your daddio, soooon?'

Marx-Lenin-Stalin Shitler II rolled his orbs. 'Over there. With Adolfa and the rest...'

'You left the door with Jürg Elias? The Jew?????!!!!!!!' piped up Uncle Joseph with a sudden start. It often took him a while to process things.

'Nein,' stammered his dad, before Marx-Lenin-Stalin Shitler II could roll his orbs again, 'I am t-t-t-telling you Geeeeeeeerbeeeeeells, theeeees th-th-therapee I am going on fur mon-th-th-ths vill do woooooonders for y-y-y-you.... too!  T-the Jewish Question, as I am s-s-saying, is one of MINDSET, you k-know? And my therapist is saying, the r-r-real Jewish Question is the friends we are m-making along the way...OY GET B-BACK HERE SOOOON!'

Marx-Lenin-Stalin Shitler II did not want to get back anywhere. In fact, he was determined to make it to his room, when his path was not-so-kindly intercepted by his brother, Stanislav-Klaus. 

'Marx,' hissed Stanislav-Klaus, hands on his thicc hips. 

Bogus! Marx-Lenin-Stalin Shitler II glowered at his brother. Stanislav-Klaus was seven years older than him and about fifty times as insufferable. He was going to snap in a minute...

*

Joseph Stalin was having the night of his life. He did that a lot. Domineering as ever, he not only commanded the respect of the room, but the hearts and minds of everyone in it. It was his son's birthday (he couldn't remember which one) and his oldest daughter was engaged to his most trusted comrade's son. What more could you want! Plus, he only had to wait a few, treacherous hours before he could make sweet, beautiful love to his husband, Adolf. Speaking of his husband, Adolf...

'So, comrade Joseph, this period of, as I say, developed socialism...' stuttered Molotov, as the group pretended to listen. 

Planning his dramatic escape, Joseph watched absentmindedly as Adolfa, who, *gasp*, looked just like Adolf, but with a slightly fluffier mustache, exchanged a look of exacerbation with Gloopy-Doopy, who winked playfully back. Having to exit a conversation prematurely reminded Joseph of the time he had been held in that (British) tower by (British) Winston Churchill while his beloved, unbeknownst to him, rowed melancholically away. He had needed to rely on nothing but his sagacious Soviet swag to escape...which as it turned out, was, again and again, more than enough for the smexy leader. He had even, with a little help from Molotov, naturally, managed to outwit Churchill (and his little American friend) when he attempted, foolhardy as ever, on a later occasion, to digitally hijack the Reich-Union People's Friendship Plane (the name had nothing to Joseph smh) while on course to Argentina. And so, Stalin wasn't concerned. Not one bit. 

'Da, more state repression sounds good,' he said at last, dictatorially releasing each word as if they were predestined orgasms. 'Pass that on to Moscow for me, comrade? Imma find Adolf...'

Molotov nodded solemnly. 'Ok. Love you, comrade!'

'Bye daddio!' giggled Adolfa, kicking her legs in the air and resting her generously sized head on Gloppy-Doopy's left testicle. 'I think Marx-Lenin-Stalin and Stanislav-Klaus are having a fight over there. It looks pretty serious...'

'Uh huh...' said Stalin, cleverly pretending to care. Mission accomplished...

...

It wasn't hard to find Adolf. Ironically, Joseph's cock was already extremely hard...In the background, probably deciding to aid the ambience, someone was yelling at the top of their lungs...

'There you are!' 

Since losing sight of Marx-Lenin-Stalin, Hitler had been stumbling around, as if in the dark. But suddenly, he felt something strong and Soviet penetrate his drunken daze. He was properly waking up now. Waking up to JOSEPH, the man who had saved him from his daddy issues with one thrust of his humongous asparagus (followed by many more). Oh ja...

'J-j-j-j-j-joseph...'

They locked eyes. Immediately, it was if they were back in Moscow, meeting each other properly for the first time. The last 30 years fell away like capitalism in decay. Stalin could smell the glorious occasion once more. It was so vivid, so real...The faint stench of something sour gracing his Slavic nostrils as he glanced across the room, pulled, as if by gravity, towards the only other mustache in the bar. The only other person that would ever truly matter. At least to him...And all of this, the kids, the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, were nothing but little grooves on the butt plug of their love affair. Dust in the wind...

'Adolf...'

And then an earthquake hit and they all died. 

THE END.