A "touching" letter home

<<Kiev, Ukraine>>

"Was ist Das!" Herr Vogel exclaimed. His commanding officer was silent. He gripped the telegraph in a clenched fist. "Moscow..." he repeated to himself. It was a good as a **** sentence. Sturmkrieger Vogel had had an easy time in Kiev. The Uke' locals were not that well versed in the ways of Stadti combat, and he had racked up a number of kills and conquests in his time here. Moscow was different. They had artillery support, tanks, and determination. Furthermore, he was slated to rotate back home at the end of his tour. Didn't they know he had a wife that was fertile again? That his breeding girls needed attention? He slapped his orders into his gloved hand, and scowled.

"Do not fret, Herr Vogel." his commanding officer said, holding up his own papers. "We are all in this one together." Vogel's grimace did not waver. Nothing this man, this Prussian prick, could say that would alleviate his anger. Vogel spat on the ground, cursing his luck.

"Herr Vogel..." his commanding officer said, drawing close. The Sturmkrieger couldn't help himself to draw closer to the man as his eyes looked left and right. "We have taken Sevastopol." Vogel's head snapped back at the news. His mind raced. If the Stadt had taken Sevastopol, that meant the Black Sea fleet could sail again, and threaten the Straits of Gibraltar. If they could do that, it'd tie up the British fleet, which meant...

"Mein Gott!" Vogel exclaimed. "You mean..." he said, his chest heaving. He could hardly believe it. If they could win the war in the East, that meant they could attack the British directly, and this blasted Hell of a war might finally be over. "Can...can we hold it?" he asked. His commanding officer was still for a moment.

"Ja." was all he replied. Vogel exhaled at the reply. If they could hold Sevastopol, and then Gibraltar, that meant the end of the Endless War. His father had died in France, what seemed ages ago. His two brothers in Belgium. They would have not died for nothing. The Stadti U-Boats could finally be free to...

Vogel's keen mind stopped short of fantasy. "We used the nuclear torpedoes? Won't the Americans respond in kind?" he asked. His commanding officer took a deep breath before replying.

"I don't think so. That sort of escalation would be...unthinkable." Vogel shook his head.

"Such hubris. Of course they will respond. The Americans do not care about Europe." he thought to himself. He closed his eyes, and imagined what the capital would look like bathed in nuclear fire. So, so many deaths. The Reichstag in ruins.

"Nein." he said to himself, even as he tucked his orders into his pocket. "Nein...unless we can hit them so fast and hard they have **** but to accept." Vogel turned to survey the ruined skyline of Kiev one last time. He took a deep breath, and resolved himself to sell Marie to someone far from the Front. The Endless War was about to become a slaughterhouse; and while she was French, he fancied himself as someone kind to lesser creatures.

He sold her that night to a man that swore on the Fuhrer he had family in Austria, and boarded the train with the rest of his compatriots. Herr Vogel sat in the boxcar as it rumbled away from Kiev on a one-way ticket to Moscow, sullen and quiet. He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, and began a letter addressed to his wife.

"My dearest,

I am off to Moscow. I do not know for how long. Tell Gunter I love him, and that I shall do my best to return. If I do not, know that I have always loved you and am proud that I was your husband." he sat the pen down for a moment, and wiped a tear from his eye. With trembling fingers, he took back up the pen.

"Set Lisette and Josephine at liberty, should either be heavy with a child of mine and of proper disposition. If not, ask Dieter to fill their wombs." This pained him greatly to write. he cherished his stable greatly. There was no need to address his wife's fate, as she would fall to his commanding officer, should he survive if he did not. If neither; to the officer's corps, if any would have her.

" I shall forever cherish our times together breaking them along the Rhine, and to see the joy on your face when Gunter emerged, Blonde and True. I love you, my wife.

Signed, Your loving Husband,

In the Name of the Fuhrer,

Karl Vogel."

With that, he tossed his pen to the side, and spat. Unlike others amongst him, Sturmkrieger Vogel understood exactly what was about to happen. He as about the enter the most brutal meatgrinder the Endless War had to offer. The Stadt had lost no less than 25 million men in the frozen battlefields of the East since the War had began some twenty years ago. For all of his advanced armor and prosthetics, he knew the odds. The average life expectancy of a Sturmkrieger in Moscow was two weeks, three days, and 28 minutes. Less if he was assigned to an **** battalion.

"This...this is madness...." he thought as his train rumbled Northward. Sturmkreiger Vogel began to shiver in the unseasonably warm weather. He wasn't the only one. "We...we MUST prevail... we must take Moscow..." he thought, his grip tightening on his Sturmgewehr 54. His life depended on it.

..................................................

Sophia looked back over her shoulder at the vagrant slamming his cock into her. He was of decent length but narrow girth. "It...it tickles." she thought idly as she waited for him to finish. She was in the unenviable position where the man sliding his cock into her was too drunk and too destitute to know either who she was or what she could have happen to him should she wish it. Sophia checked her watch as his penis buried itself into her in rapid, spastic thrusts. Normally, she tried to uplift and encourage the most unfortunate of the Bloc, but today her heart just wasn't in it.

Even when he cupped her ample breasts, she couldn't help but sigh. Silently, she was thankful that the massed throng of them was using a demure Newsie about a block down, the poor girl sealed up air-tight with a vagrant in every hole. The man hammering into her was already grunting after only a few minutes. Sophia started to meet his thrusts with her own, hoping to speed his release so she could get on with her business.

Still, the sight of the pile of men upon the Newsie was entertaining enough. She watched as one man after the other took turns on her ass. Her moans and whimpers filtered down the alleyway along with her own feigned exclamations. The girl seemed to be really getting into it. Sophia felt her cunt moisten as she honed in on the girl, seeing her nails dig into a vagrant's shoulders as he slammed into her. She spread her own legs a little more, still tender from the Stadti's thick cock from earlier. Sophia slid her hand down her abdomen until her fingertips found her smooth, shaven sex. The man fucking her was nothing more than a mastrubatory aid at this point.

Sophia's fingers found her clit and ran along side it. The man's cock slid into her again and again as she began to pleasure herself, oblivious to him in all other regards. She bit her lip as she saw one man cum in the girl's ass and another almost immediately step forward. She couldn't help but remember her time in basic training as her tender clit responded to her fingers. Her training partners had been rather crude, but she was thankful for their instruction in preparing her for the life of female soldier in the barracks.

Sophia grunted when she saw the Newsie being let up to limp away, jism dripping down her legs. She glanced over her shoulder again to see the closed eyes of the man fucking her. 'Are you ever going to cum?" she asked harshly. The man shrugged, and continued to slide his cock in and out of her. She didn't have time for this. Sophia sighed, and pulled forward slightly. She reached behind her, and lined his cock up with her tight, puckered asshole.

"Try this." she said, pressing backward. His wet cockhead paused at the entrance to her ass briefly before sliding in. She glanced over her shoulder again to see his eyes wide and mouth open; his rotten teeth on display. "Better?" she said, driving her ass backwards. He nodded enthusiastically as his cock slid deeper into her ass. She'd learned long ago that the more unsavory denisons of the Bloc needed a bit more...encouragement...than others.

His long, narrow cock slid deeply into her bowels, a situation that Sophia found much more preferable. She rubbed her clit faster as she closed her eyes, disturbed slightly by the images of the Stadti engaged in a wild orgy filled her mind. She imagined him fucking girls barely of age, fucking women three times his age, having his dick sucked by degenerates, cumming into a silver bowl. She imagined him spilling his seed into a wild, redheaded whore as his body shook. Her fingers plunged into her wet, spasming sex as she imagined herself on a cross, legs spread and upside down; a lovely village girl pouring a gallon of semen into her waiting womb...

Sophia snapped back to reality to hear the man grunting. He had spilled his seed some time ago, and had cascaded down her sex and was dripping down her pale thighs. Slowly, carefully, she pulled her ass away from him only to be rewarded by the last of his emission flowing out of her ass. Sophia stood up, straightened her uniform, and tried to walk down the alley stoicly. Her trembling legs gave her away, and the mess on her thighs dissuaded any further use.

Finally, she arrived at the door to her bunker. The guard smiled and nodded as she passed through. She elbowed and nudged her way down the hall until she was at her room. Quickly she ducked inside, ripped off her uniform, and collapsed onto her bed. What was it about the Stadti's account that had set her off? Why had she fixated on it so? Sophia coiled up on her cot, drew the harsh wool blanket over herself, and quickly fell asleep.