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The Crossing - Part 32 free porn video
I was an escaped PoW living as a married woman in Nazi Germany, but I had
been betrayed and my secret was out. Now, staring down the barrel of a
gun, I was about to be abandoned to my fate in Berlin as the invading Red
Army tightened its stranglehold on the city.
THE CROSSING - part 32
by BobH
(c) 2016
- 71 -
The thing I'd long dreaded had finally happened and my secret was out.
"So it *is* boys you want after all, Helmut," said Grost, sneering at his
cousin. "I suppose Steffi was one too, another vessel for your perverted
lusts. You're a deviant who doesn't deserve to be the Count von Rumstahl.
You're a disgrace to our family."
Helmut said nothing, glaring at his cousin defiantly, but Hans did.
"Who are you to sneer about deviants," he said, slowly unbuttoning his
jacket, "you whose best friend was a sick, twisted psychopath?"
"What are you doing?" said Grost, frowning as Hans continued
to carefully unbutton his jacket. "Stop that!"
His jacket now fully unbuttoned revealed the bandages binding Hans's
chest. He grasped the top one and with a single swift motion pulled them
down, exposing his breasts.
"Mein Gott, you're a woman!" exclaimed Grost, astonished by this
revelation.
"No, I'm not. I may be female but I'm a man, just as Eva may be male but
she's a woman."
"What? Are you mad? What you're saying makes no sense!"
"It makes a lot sense to me. Neither of us could bear living in the
gender assigned to us at birth. Only by living in the other one, the one
that actually fitted us, could we truly be ourselves."
"Words, just words," said Grost, his disgust palpable, "none of which can
hide the fact that Lexi and I are the only two people here who aren't
deviants."
"Guess again, lover," said Lexi, shocking Grost by pulling out a gun and
pressing it to his temple.
"Very slowly and very carefully return your luger to its holster."
"Lexi?" he said. "Wh..what are you doing? Where did you get a firearm?"
The gun she was holding was my missing Beretta.
"Never mind that," she replied, twisting it into his temple, voice cold,
"just do as I say. Now."
Grost could tell she was serious, we all could, so he complied.
"I don't understand," he pleaded. "Why are you doing this?"
"I could say it's because you're a terrible lover and sex with you was
like being assaulted by a rutting hog, but it's more about showing
solidarity with my fellow deviants, who are some of the finest people
I've ever met. You see, Albrecht, I wasn't always a woman. I used to be a
man. Back when I still had a penis it was bigger than yours."
I glanced across at Hans and Helmut who both looked astonished at Lexi's
revelation, but not as astonished as Grost did.
"That's not possible," he said. "No one could turn a man into you. It
can't be done."
"And yet it was. Did you think Nazi super-science was limited to so-
called 'wonder weapons'? I didn't ask to be turned into a woman, but I
love it. I wouldn't change it for anything."
"So I've been having sex with a man all this time?" he said,
his expression revealing just how appalled he was by the idea.
"No," said Lexi, exasperated. "Are you deaf as well as stupid? I'm a
woman, and far better than you ever deserved."
"You're not going to kill me. Those guarding the other planes would hear
the shot and come running."
"No they wouldn't. This is a small gun, the muzzle is pressed to your
temple, and they're far enough away they won't hear a thing."
With that she pulled the trigger.
I watched in shock as Grost crumpled to his knees, then toppled sideways,
dead.
The gunshot had not been loud, but Hans still glanced across the nose of
the Storch to see if the guards on the other planes had heard it.
"They're haven't moved," he said. "They didn't hear anything."
"Told you," said Lexi.
"What now?" asked Helmut, who had not taken his eyes off Lexi. "What is
it you want? Are you going to take the plane for yourself?"
"No. It's yours. The three of you must fly out of here in it, as you
intended."
"Then I don't understand why you've done what you have."
"I'm a loyal Frenchwoman," said Lexi, "not a collaborator. I played the
part Albrecht wanted me to, appeared to be the willing mistress, but I
wasn't. He forced me to take on that role. Now I'm finally free of him."
"What you said about what was done to you...," said Hans. "Was that true?
Were you really born male?"
"I was. But now I'm a woman and I have no intention of broadcasting to
the world that I was ever anything else. I want to live my life in peace,
not as some sort of scientific curiosity. But enough about me. You should
put your breasts away, handsome, then you and Helmut need to roll
Albrecht's body under the burned out lorry we were hiding behind. With
any luck it won't be spotted for a while, and a few days from now it's
not going to matter anyway."
"She's right," said Helmut. "Let's get to it, Hans."
While the boys set about their task, I took Lexi to one side.
"'Forced to be his mistress against your will'?" I said.
"I had to tell them something, and it's a good story," she replied with a
shrug.
"So why bring Grost here at all?"
"I needed to get away from Horst, and telling Albrecht about your escape
plan was the best way of doing that. Since he thought we were coming here
to take the plane from you, a plane that only carries two, particularly
if one of them is as big as Albrecht, we were never going to bring Horst
with us. I told you earlier I would do anything to survive, no matter
what, and that I had an escape plan I couldn't put into motion until the
Soviets got here. So once I'd lured him out here, away from everyone
else, I was always going to kill Albrecht."
"What is your plan and why does it rely on the Soviets overrunning
Berlin?" I asked, genuinely curious.
"A couple of months ago a female Russian fighter pilot was shot down and
brought to Berlin to be interrogated by Albrecht. She was the same size
as me so I suggested Albrecht give me her uniform to use for sex games in
the bedroom. He was all in favour, of course - men are so easy - but
that's not why I really wanted it."
"Ah, I think I understand now," I said. "You're going to hide in a
cellar, put the uniform on, emerge when the Russians have swept past you,
and claim to be an escaped prisoner or a downed flyer who's been evading
capture. The uniform is in that small suitcase you brought with you,
isn't it?"
"Now you're getting it, but I'll present myself as a downed flyer who's
been evading capture rather than an escaped prisoner. Fewer questions
that way."
"If you do, won't you need to have to have the proper I.D. documents on
you?"
"Yes, and I do. Before everything in Berlin went to hell I used to
regularly bump into a female SS officer. More regularly in fact than I
should have."
"She was seeking you out?"
"She was. I can always tell when someone is interested in me and though I
don't have much time for women, she was tall and interestingly mannish
and it never hurts to have contacts. So I decided to cultivate her
acquaintance. This was under the watchful eye of Horst, of course, but
neither he nor Albrecht
would have had the wit to see anything untoward in two women regularly
lunching together. In trying to impress me she let slip that she was
involved with ODESSA."
"ODESSA?" I said, frowning. "Isn't that...."
"The name I saw stamped on certain files at Dr Frankenheim's clinic, yes.
The organisation set up to facilitate the escape of leading Nazis and
members of the SS. It's been in place for years but Ursula - that was her
name - told me they'd been very carefully covering their tracks and
papers had been planted to make it seem as if it was of much more recent
vintage. I told her about the Russian flyer's uniform I'd acquired for my
own possible future escape. I also explained that I didn't have the
papers to go with it. She gave me a calculating look and, as I expected,
told me she could get those papers forged for me, but that she wanted
something in return."
"To have sex with you."
"Of course. It's always sex. I agreed, gave her a photo of myself, told
her the region I wanted the papers to say I was from, and she duly
delivered. Then it was my turn. Remember I told you I managed to give
Horst the slip on one occasion? Well, that was the occasion."
"So you've had lesbian sex," I said, surprised and impressed.
"I have, and it wasn't the chore I expected it to be. Turns out Ursula
had a strap-on in her flat, something that could have got her in serious
trouble had it been found. It would be difficult to deny your sexual
preference if you're found with something like that. She knew how to use
it, too. Ursula very much took on the role of a man when she used her
strap on to pleasure another woman, which suited me just fine. I closed
my eyes and pretended she was male. Ironically, the man I imagined her
being was Hans."
She glanced over at Hans, who was still helping Helmut conceal the body.
"He really is extremely handsome, isn't he? The one thing I usually
require in my lovers is a penis, but for him I'd make an exception, no
strap-on required. I still eventually want to find myself a rich, good-
looking husband like you have, though."
"Knowing you, I'm sure you will, Lexi."
"So, anyway, back to my escape. I speak fluent Russian and my mother told
me enough tales about the area she was from, the area on my paperwork,
that I should be able to fake local knowledge. My plan is to work my way
back through the Soviet lines in the west, ditch the uniform, and to then
keep going until I reach the British or American lines, presenting myself
as a displaced French civilian."
"It's a good plan," I said. "It might even work."
"Of course it will. I'm a survivor, remember? I'll just have to make sure
to steer clear of any political officers or NKVD attached to the Soviet
units I encounter. Regular troops will take me at face value. Those
bastards are likely to be a bit more suspicious."
Having concealed Grost's corpse as best they could the boys came over to
us, Helmut tucking Grost's luger into his waistband.
"What will you do now, Lexi?" Helmut asked her.
"I'll return the way we came, taking care not to be seen."
"Then I guess this is goodbye. Good luck."
He held his hand. Lexi shook it, then leaned in to kiss him on the cheek.
Hans too held out his hand. Again, she shook it, but this time when she
leaned in she kissed him full on the lips.
"You've had that coming since we flirted at that party," she said,
chuckling at his surprise.
When she and I hugged, I said:
"I hope we see each other again."
"I hope we do, too. Farewell, Eva."
It was only after she had turned and was walking away from us that I
realised something. Usually, Lexi was completely certain we'd see each
other again. This time she'd only expressed the hope that we would. She
was less sure her escape plan would succeed than she was letting on.
- 72 -
Jammed into the cramped space behind the seats in the Storch, I watched
anxiously as Helmut repeatedly turned the ignition key, while outside
Hans yanked the propeller round hoping the engine would fire up. On the
fourth attempt it did. Hans then nipped around, ducked under the wing,
and climbed in.
"Alright, let's get out of here," said Helmut.
He taxied the aircraft onto the Charlottenburger Chaussee,
turned it so that we were facing west, and waved to those guarding the
other planes.
"Hold tight, here we go," he said.
The Storch headed down that improvised airstrip picking up speed as it
went until, quicker than I expected, we were rising into the air. No
sooner had we cleared the western edge of the Tiergarten than small arms
fire erupted all around us as Soviet troops in the streets below tried to
shoot us down. We collected a few more holes in the wings and then we
were too high for machine guns and rifles to be of any concern. Helmut
checked his gauges.
"Looks like they didn't hit anything important," he said. "Thank God. Now
let's hope we're as lucky when we encounter proper anti-aircraft fire."
This was a real worry. With its lightweight construction it would only
take a shell exploding in close enough proximity to knock our aircraft
out of the sky. Sure enough, when we reached the outer ring of the forces
besieging Berlin shells began exploding in the air around us. Not vast
numbers it's true - maybe no more than half a dozen or so - but it was
still a huge relief when we had flown over those forces and they were
receding into the distance behind us.
"We did it!" said Hans, patting Helmut on the back, "We got out of Berlin
alive!"
Now we turned onto a heading that would take us to Rumstahl, except that
it wouldn't. The Fieseler Storch only had a range of about two hundred
miles, and that wasn't enough.
"This plane can't get us all of the way to Rumstahl, can it?"
I said.
"No, but it will take us most of the way," said Helmut. "Then we'll have
to land it and improvise. Let's just hope we don't get spotted by a
patrolling enemy fighter before then."
It was a bright day, the skies were clear and blue, so I spent the next
few hours looking over Hans's shoulder and through the window at what I
could see of the land below. Once it might have been easy to convince
yourself there wasn't a war being fought below, but not any more. The
columns of refugees heading west, of troops moving in all directions, and
the columns of smoke rising from towns and hamlets where fighting was
still going on made such a conclusion impossible. Fearing ground fire we
gave a wide berth to any troops we saw as we flew on, heading ever
southwards.
"We'll have to land soon," Helmut eventually announced, "we're almost out
of fuel."
"As it happens I can see exactly where we should land," said Hans,
pointing down at something I couldn't see from my angle but which Helmut
could from his own window."
"Good choice!" he said, grinning.
We circled around before coming in to land on a grassy area of open
ground beside a stretch of road. It was a bumpy landing, but that was
only to be expected. At the side of the road, about twenty yards from
where the plane came to a halt, stood a staff car, an open-topped
Mercedes-Benz 770. In the rear sat a portly man whose uniform identified
him as a colonel in the Wehrmacht. His driver had just finished changing
a wheel as we arrived. Perfect timing. The pair looked at us suspiciously
as we climbed down from the Storch and walked over to them.
"A puncture, Herr Colonel?" asked Helmut as we approached.
"Yes, but fixed now. Who are you?"
"I'm the Count von Rumstahl, this is my wife Eva, and this is Leutnant
Hans Strohmann. I'm sorry, but I'm afraid we're going to have to
requisition your vehicle."
"Are you insane? What on Earth makes you think I'd give up my car to
you?"
"The orders of the Fuhrer," said Helmut, taking out the letter of passage
and handing it to him.
"This is meaningless," replied the colonel, tossing it aside after
reading it. "The war is lost."
"The Fuhrer is still in command in Berlin," said Hans, his hand on his
holster. "That letter specifically states that failure to provide
whatever physical and/or material aid is requested by Count and Countess
von Rumstahl to the full extent of your ability to do so will be
considered a criminal act and punished accordingly. Are you defying the
Fuhrer's order, Herr Colonel? To do so is treason."
Helmut now had his own hand on the luger in his waistband. The colonel
and his driver looked at each other, then at the determination on Hans
and Helmut's faces.
"Fine, fine, take it," he said, getting out of the car.
"Thank you, Herr Colonel," said Helmut as Hans and I climbed into the
car. "Please take this by way of recompense."
He pressed the Storch's ignition key into his hand.
"But neither my driver nor I can fly a plane!" the colonel protested.
"That's unfortunate. Perhaps you'll be able to trade it for another
vehicle with someone who can. I wish you luck, Herr Colonel."
Hans would be driving of course with Helmut and me in the rear - any
other arrangement would have looked odd and might attract unwanted
attention - but first he put the top up. It was still April after all,
and going at any speed with the top down would be chilly. As we pulled
away I glanced back to see the colonel watching us leave, filled with
impotent rage. Perhaps I should have felt sorry for him. I didn't. Helmut
put his arm around me, but I could tell something was bothering him.
"What is it, my love?" I asked.
"Cousin Albrecht. Though I never liked him we'd known each other since
childhood, and he was family. I should feel at least some regret over his
death, but I don't. I feel...nothing."
"When Lexi shot him all I felt was relief," I said. "It was him or us,
and we're the ones who survived. You're a good man, Helmut, a very good
man. It's to your credit you believe his death should mean more to you
than it does, but don't feel guilty about your feelings. He isn't worth
it."
"Perhaps you're right," he said, kissing the top of my head.
"You should try to get some sleep now, we both should. It's a few hours
drive to Rumstahl and neither of us slept very well last night."
Helmut saying it made me realise just how tired I was. I snuggled up to
him and within minutes I was asleep.
"We're here," announced Hans.
It barely seemed like minutes had passed, but when I opened my eyes it
was dusk and we were coming to a halt in the courtyard of Castle
Rumstahl. Gerda was there, looking happy, eyes full of tears. She threw
her arms around Hans's neck, hugging and kissing him.
"You were gone so long," she said, "we feared the worst."
"Things got a bit precarious there for a while," said Helmut,
"but we did what we set out to."
"Yes. You left in a Volkswagen and returned in a Mercedes-Benz staff car.
What happened to you out there?"
"It's a long story," said Helmut, taking my hand and leading us all
inside, "one I'll be happy to tell you over dinner, dear sister. Oh and
we'll be needing wine. Have the staff bring up the finest three bottles
we have from the cellar."
We had only been gone a week but with all we'd been through it felt like
longer, much longer, and I was both happy and relieved to be home again.
As always we dressed for dinner, of course. Traditions had to be
maintained, and who knew when we'd get the chance to do so again?
I showered, towelled myself dry, donned my bathrobe, and sat down at my
dressing table, starting to feel human again. The past few days had taken
their toll and I looked tired. Fortunately, I was clever enough with
make-up by now that I knew how to disguise that fact. Also the very act
of applying cosmetics, the skill and concentration required, usually
perked me up all by itself.
A little later, after putting the final touches to my make-up, I examined
my reflection critically before giving a little nod of approval. I had
grown used to seeing the pretty girl smiling back at me from the mirror
and I liked her to look her best. I put on my jewellery, unpinning my
hair and letting it fall about my shoulders when I was done. Next I
reached for my black silk stockings, rolling one up each leg in turn.
Standing, I clipped them to the straps of my garter belt before checking
the seams were straight, a familiar action now so routine I barely even
thought about it any more. I stepped into the slinky red evening dress
I'd selected and eased it up my body, slipping the slender straps over my
bare shoulders just as Helmut appeared, wrestling a cuff-link into place.
"Button me up at the back, will you, honey?" I said, lifting my hair so
that he could do so.
He did, kissing the back of my neck when he finished. He donned his suit
jacket, I slid my feet into a pair of heels, and we were ready to go. I
checked my appearance from every angle in a full length mirror before we
set off, pleased with the finished result. I turned to face Helmut, who
slid his arms around my waist.
"What?" I said, placing my hands on his shoulders.
He was smiling down at me but there was something else in his eyes,
something almost wistful.
"A man should always let his wife know she's beautiful, particularly when
she's looking as stunning as you do right now, and I'm sorry."
"Sorry? For what?"
"As your husband it's my duty to protect you. When Albrecht assaulted you
I wanted to tear his throat out, but instead I did nothing."
"Helmut, that's ridiculous," I said, laying my hand on his cheek. "He had
a gun on you. If you had tried anything he would have killed you and I'd
be a widow now. Is that what you want?"
"What, no. Of course not."
"You silly, sweet man," I said, kissing him softly on the lips.
"We're both still here, and he's not. You did exactly the right thing by
not doing anything foolish."
I smiled up at him with genuine affection, this strong, passionate man
whose deep love for me was so obvious and who I knew would die for me. I
felt safe and protected in his arms in a way I had never felt before.
"Perhaps you're right, and I am being foolish," he said, "but the thought
of anyone hurting you is almost more than I can bear."
"I know," I said, "I feel the same way."
And I wasn't entirely lying. I had grown to care what happened to him.
"Shall we?"
Helmut offered me his arm.
"Of course," I said, taking it.
We were the first down to dinner, which didn't surprise either of us.
When Hans and Gerda turned up, fifteen minutes later, they both looked
flushed. But then there's nothing like cheating death to make you feel
alive, and nothing like sex to celebrate that feeling. Well, almost
nothing.
"I asked that the best bottles of wine be brought up from the cellar
because if we're going to leave Rumstahl, possibly forever, then we
should drink them before we go. There's also another reason. This morning
Hans, Eva, and I were facing possible death. Now we're home and Hans has
been reunited with Gerda. That calls for a celebration. I can think of no
better time to open the 1929 Lafite Rothschild."
The bottle had already been uncorked. Helmut did the honours, pouring us
each a glass. Then he proposed the toast.
"To family!" he said.
"To family!" we agreed.
I've never been much of a wine connoisseur, but from the very first sip
even I could tell this was something special. So could the others. We
drank slowly and in silence, savouring every drop, knowing we might never
experience its like again.
Over dinner, as promised, we told Gerda all about our adventures in
Berlin. Her eyes went wide when Hans revealed how he reacted to Grost
pulling a gun on him.
"You exposed your breasts to Albrecht?" she said. "Why would you do such
a thing?"
"I thought he was going to kill us, and standing with Helmut and Eva as
my true self in that moment just seemed incredibly important. If we were
going to die then he was damn well going to know just who it was he was
about to kill."
"Hans was so defiant in the face of death, so brave," I said. "You would
have been proud of him, Gerda."
"I understand why he did it now," she said, smiling at him, "and I am.
Very proud."
"What's the situation here?" Helmut asked her. "Do we know how close the
Russians are?"
"We do," she replied. "I've gone out riding several times in the past
week, keeping to ridges and other high ground, doing reconnaissance."
"And?"
"They'll be here within three days."
**********************
To be continued.
**********************
Notes:
1) Now you know why I established Lexi had a Russian mother and French
father back in the very first episode, and was fluent in both languages.
I knew we'd eventually get to this showdown in the Nazi capital, and how
she would try to escape the city. It always pays to plan ahead.
2) Now that our protagonists are out of Berlin this seems the right time
to tell you about an easter egg in this story: Wilhelm Tranger. Tranger
is not my character. I took him from a short novel called 'Death of the
Fuhrer' by Roland Puccetti published 40 years ago. Why did I tie my story
to an obscure novel from decades ago? Because it amused me to do so (hey,
no one is paying me to write this stuff). As for why that particular
novel, well if you want to find out what Tranger was doing in the
Fuhrerbunker the novel appears to now be available as a free download in
a variety of formats. Just paste this search string into your browser and
it should take you to a download site:
'Death of the Fuhrer'+'Roland Puccetti'+ebook
A word of warning. Try to avoid reading any synopsis of the book, all of
which usually give too much away. Please be circumspect if you mention it
in comments here, too.
3) If I ever pick up any thread from this story for a new tale or series
(no promises) it will likely start with the Frankenheim clinic and be set
in the late 1940s/1950s. The protagonist would be someone who'd undergone
the same transformation as Lexi, though very much against his/her will,
hunting down Nazis whose appearances Otto Frankenheim had also altered in
various ways. Frankenheim himself would be the big bad of course, having
survived Lexi's assault on him.
Virginia
- 19.10.2021
- 16
- 0
