{"sf1_id":2711,"sf2_id":"Oe5ywPPe","title":"Eastern-Front","author":"Leslie Rashana","words":1020,"posted_at":"2004-06-15T21:40:00.000Z","tags":["Draft Horse","Horse","Human","M/F","Military","Never Seen Sex Act","Short"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/2711-eastern-front","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/Oe5ywPPe","image_url":"https://www.sofurryfiles.com/std/thumb?page=2711\u0026ext=.jpg","description":"","content":"Warning, the following contains possibly objectionable material, reader  \n  \ndiscretion is advised. Copyright Leslie Rashana.\n* * *\n  \n  \n  \n  \nExcerpts from the journal of Leftenant Karl Hautinfaust, AWOL.  \n  \n  \n  \nDecember 7, 1942  \n  \nIt has been three days since my squad and myself were separated from  \nthe rest of the Regiment. Our rations are running low and the terrain  \naffords little shelter from the cold winds. I know it is treason to  \nthink much less write this, but Heir Hitler must surely be mad to have  \nordered us to press the invasion during the Russian winter. I hear  \nshelling in the distance, the men want to go and investigate but I have  \nordered them to stay put. I fear what would happen if the lines we  \nwere to approach should prove to be Russian and not German.  \n  \nDecember 8, 1942  \n  \nWe have been most fortunate this day. We found an overturned and  \nabandoned heavy wagon, obviously from a Russian supply train. It's  \nteam was still tangled in their hitchings. Blast craters were nearby  \nleaving little doubt why they would abandon it so quickly. Feeling  \npity for the poor animals I ordered the men to cut the horses free from  \nwith their bayonets. The horses, a 4-mare heavy draft team, helped us  \nunload the wagon with little urging as if in gratitude. It was a  \ntreasure-trove; Food, warm clothing, fire-starting implements and fuel,  \neven a large cold-weather tent. The team helped us pitch the tent  \nafter I ordered that we would camp here indefinitely, my men need time  \nto recuperate from their ordeal.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; December 8, 1942  \nSupplemental...  \n  \nI am writing this outside the tent by lantern light in the lee of the  \ntent, I do not think I can bring myself to go back in there despite the  \ncold. I was awoken tonight by strange noises elsewhere in the tent. I  \nhad noticed that many of my men were sleeping close to where we allowed  \nthe mares to rest, not being so cruel as to force them to sleep out in  \nthe cold. At first I believed they were just doing this to stay warm  \nfrom the mare's body-heat, but that was not the case. I heard moaning  \ncoming from these clusters of people and horses, in voices both human  \nand equine. I hastily got dressed and made my way outside, as the  \nmoonlight came in through the open tent-flap when I exited I could see  \nthem writhing under the heavy blankets we had liberated.  \n  \nI can still remember the newsreels, admonishing us as perfect Aryan's  \nnot to pollute our bodies by laying with The Jews, or The Negroes, or  \nThe Asians, or the new servant races who look so human yet are still  \nclearly animal. Yet these mares, Russian Mares at that, seem so  \ncompelling. I do not fault my men for falling to their baser instincts  \nin these trying times but that is all the more reason why I as their  \ncommanding officer must remain pure to serve as an example, though I  \ngrow more and more uncertain as to what example it is I should provide.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; One of the mares has come outside to speak to me. She says something  \nin Russian which of course I do not understand. She continues to stand  \nthere expectantly as I write this even after I wave her off and I find  \nmyself tested even more as she stands in the moonlight. Tall and  \nstrong, yet soft and smooth in so many places which scream in my mind  \nof womanly beauty. She seems curious, as to what I am writing or why I  \nrefuse to come inside I am not sure. She peers over my shoulder but  \nshe is so sweet and gentle I am loathe to shoo her away, even though it  \nbecomes more and more difficult to write with her large and matronly  \n[CENSORED] pressing against my back. I fear that this is one war I may  \nloose, her heavy arms are closed around me and she is grooming my hair  \nas horses often do with their own kind. I find this strangely soothing  \ndespite all that I was taught telling me to forcefully reject her. Now  \nI must put pen and paper down; when next I write is when it will be  \nknown who has won, what I was taught or what I do now feel.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; December 12, 1942  \n  \nA truly rapturous day dawns, I awoke in the soft and warm embrace of  \nmy [CENSORED], Nadia, and could not imagine anything not being right  \nwith the world. I have been woefully neglecting this journal for  \nsometime and felt compelled to update it. We have since learned the  \nnames of all of them. Nadia, who is head of the team and has provided  \nme with a pillar of strength during this troubled time. Katrina, who's  \nfirey [CENSORED] has kept many of my soldiers warm on these cold  \nRussian nights. Anna, who has been doting over myself and my men in an  \nalmost motherly fashion, when she is not engaged in [CENSORED]. And  \nNatasha, who has been anything but shy with her outrageously  \nwell-developed [CENSORED].  \n  \nOur days have been made busy with almost domestic chores that in the  \nend not only provide us with the means of survival, but keep us in a  \nsurprising state of comfort despite our situation. Our nights are  \nfilled with [CENSORED] with our new equine friends. I and all my men  \nwould be very sad to see them leave and I worry about what would happen  \nif we were to take them back to our own lines; perhaps, we should not  \ngo back at all?  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp;  \nEnd Excerpt  \n  \nThis Journal was found in an abandoned campsite eleven miles south of  \nStalingrad. We have of course censored it to minimize it's capacity to  \ncause social and moral damage but still it clearly indicates how  \nharmful the influence of the culturally backward Soviets can be. I  \nknow, I find the actions hinted at within these pages repugnant as well  \nbut we must know the enemy if we ever hope to overcome them.  \n  \nHail the Fuhrer.  \n  \nOffice of the Media.  \n  \n  \n\n"}