Attempts to help the woman. And it does not...go well.

“Hey!” Graeber launches forward and gets in the middle. He attempts a speech about honor and something about doing what’s right, but he’s quickly tackled and beaten, called names, and spat back out towards Lukas, who grabs him by his webbing and warns him not to do it again.

“What the hell?!” Graeber sputters, listening to something horrible now. “Do something!”

“Why can’t!” Lukas cries out. “Let’s go. Come on!”

Graeber and Lukas filter through the forest to return to the tracks. Numbness comes over Graeber, and then he curses. “What was happening back there!? Why didn’t you do anything!?”

“Do something and get shot!?” Lukas snaps back. “If I stepped in with you, they would have beaten us senseless, and we would have been sent back to Germany for another month because of our injuries!”

“Is that not better than to do nothing at all!?”

“Yes!” Lukas says. “This war is making us show the monster inside all of us, Graeber. If we don’t end this soon, then it will only make us into animals.”

“If we let things like that happen, then we’re worse than animals already.”

There’s a pause. There’s only silence. Lukas looks away and shakes his head before speaking again. “Graeber, I’ve—“

“What’s going on here?” A man in an officer’s uniform approaches the duo. They can tell by his outfit that he is an MP. “What are you two doing?”

“Returning to the train,” Graeber says. “We just finished killing all the partisans that tried to blow up the tracks.”

“Where are the rest of your unit then?” He counters.

“Back there,” Graeber gestures at the forest. “Why don’t you bother them and see why they aren’t back yet? The sooner we get to the war, the better. Don’t you agree?”

The officer grumbles, treading off to the train, not going into the forest. Graeber returns his stare to Lukas but says they’ll talk more later.

The train ride is quiet after that experience, and he cannot sleep. He keeps his gaze outward as the sun spills into the vast country known as Russland. Lukas left not long ago, but he returned with coffee and Polish pastries, jogging the memory of Julia and the cinder somewhere in his kit. “Another time,” he thinks, taking a cup of coffee. He sips it, finding the liquids bitter yet energizing. Lukas sits across from him with a heavy sigh.

“Danke,” Graeber says.

“Wie gehts?” Lukas asks.

Graeber shrugs, unsure of his emotions.

“You know what we saw is happening everywhere, right?” Lukas deadpans.

"I know," Graeber lies. "It's crazy to consider, however."

“Kriegsgerichtsbarkeitserlass,” Lukas mutters. “It’s only going to get worse the longer the war goes on.”

“I know,” the lies continue. When Graeber got his furlough, the campaign in Greece had concluded, then he was in Denmark for a few months for drills before being swallowed to the east, just in time for the next wave of operations and offensives. It was then he realized that besides his experience in France, he didn’t have to deal with civilians often. He was mostly there for training and sentry duty on-site. Lukas was in Poland, but apparently for different purposes…?

…

…

The night was still, and the air was tense. Graeber’s knee bounced idly as he waited for something to present itself. He was alone in the pillbox, an MG34 in front of him. His sentry partner had left to use the bathroom but still hadn’t returned.

Thoughts began to work in his tired mind, and he quickly recalled Julia. He felt his cheeks get warm, and a stupid grin stretched on his mouth. He shuffled, recalling Paris now. The woman that seduced him there was the prettiest bombshell he had ever laid his eyes on. No offense to Julia or Katarzyna. The very thought of her made his cock throb with naughty intent.

A shiver runs up his spine, and Graeber lets out a heated breath as he grins. “Ich wünschte, du wärst hier,” he whispers, closing his eyes.

…When he opened his eyes, he found himself back at the Moulin Rouge, wearing an officer's uniform that was adorned with medals, ribbons, and even an Iron Cross 1st class. Soon, he found a mirror and stared into his face. He looked slightly older, more adult with the eyes of a seasoned veteran!

Everyone around Graeber was celebrating, waving flags of the Third Reich as they partied, drank, ate, and danced. Graeber had a glass of bubbling champagne in his hand, so he partook of the drink, smacking his lips at the flavor.

What draws all of his attention, though, is the red-headed broad wearing a corset that compliments her hourglass body perfectly. Around her bountiful body was a purple fur scarf. The girl is already eye-fucking Graeber. A lump forms not just in his throat but also in his uniform.

This girl’s name is unknown, but her features aren’t strangers to him. It’s the same girl that stole his virginity during his furlough. As she got closer, he could see the horns sticking out from the sides and her pointed crimson tail swaying behind her. He recalled the first time seeing this girl and thinking these final characteristics looked more cosmetic than they do now.

“Du siehst gut genug zum Ficekn aus~.”

“Lass uns einen privaten Ort finden.” Graeber suggests, but the woman shakes her head.

“You won, so use me in front of everyone. Flaunt me, make me yours,” she winks, her face clear of blemishes, her teeth white as pearls, her makeup sparkling. “I want everyone to see how strong you are.” Her English came out perfectly.

Her accent is neither French nor German but rolls off her tongue as a seductive American. Graeber looked around. Superiors, civilians, politicians— he’d be stopped for sure, no matter how beautiful this woman was or victorious he was.

The woman grabbed his wrist and placed it firmly against her breast, forcing him to squeeze. A tight moan boils from her mouth. She gnaws lightly on her lower lip, nodding at him. “Fuck. Your hands feel even better somehow~!”

“We shouldn’t be—“

The girl’s lips close in to shut him up. Her tongue slithers around Graeber’s, breaking his resistance faster than any Blitzkrieg could ever do to him. Somewhere in the background, a woman gasps at the display of intimacy.

Graeber no longer needs help groping her beasts— he’s doing that just fine on his own. The girl forces him back, however, throwing him into a table that was occupied by another war veteran and his date. There’s some yelling but no real protest.

The music playing from the speakers above is lewd and sadistic, but it doesn’t smother the enticing sounds from Graeber’s unnamed lover. What else is he hearing? Seemingly nothing else as his buttons and pulled and strings are tugged on. His lover grinds herself against his member, not even waiting to get his penis out before playing with it.

Graeber’s mind boiled with perversions, but he acted more than he spoke, and soon he had the woman’s corset lost enough to expose a pair of big, perfect tits. Around the same time, his tunic is pulled open, and his boots are off. The girl locks lips, biting loosely on his lower lips. “Right in front of everyone~!“ she announces without shame.

She snaps her fingers, and they both become stark naked— a shriek comes from somewhere, but both of the young adults are caught in the acts of intimacy couldn't care less. The girl moans in what sounds like Latin, but before he can let this question fester, she’s jerking him off with a swift hand. Now the question is how he’s going to cum, not if, not when, but where.

The hottest staring contest of the century starts. Graeber moans as he feels the trip grip on his erection work his milk out in a matter of seconds. The girl purrs, making pouty faces and playful gestures with her wet tongue. “My plaything! What cute faces you are making right now!!”

His cock throbs painfully, but pleasure numbs all pain and paints over it with bliss. Curses come out as he squirms. No handjob would ever feel good, and his own hand merely mocks this act of stimulation. “You’re so hard! So fucking hard! Oh, my god, baby~!!!”

All the words get encircled in his mind, so he doesn’t even bother trying to get any of them out. Then, for a brief moment, Graeber becomes stunned for one moment, so Graeber is frozen— he simply lies on his bare back as the girl cranks his cock for his sperm. The remaining guests have either started to either play with their partners or themselves, enjoying the display and volume of your public show of affection.

“Tell me, Herr Graeber,” the girl now takes a perfect German accent, untarnished by the English language. “How would you like to finish?”

The girl lowers herself down, pressing her chest against his. She kisses Graeber and lols her tongue around his mouth, playing in there like a playhouse.

Graeber smirks; a playful grin is how the girl a few inches away from him replies with. “You’re giving me an option?”

She nods, slowing her strokes down, but she plays with his penis’s glands with her thumb. “Ja, Natürlich~.”

All the options come to mind…