Katyusha Babies

The knife lifted for a moment. Now with a perpendicular aim, she ran the knife's edge softly along the shoulder skin. The pressure was enough to make her feel the sharpness of the knife, yet not cut. She ran the knife again with a little more pressure as if to taunt her that the skin may rapture, yet safely felt that it wouldn't.

Over and over, she ran the knife over her skin to taunt herself that this time, the knife may cut. And, then it cut a little. She pressed down to make it a deeper cut. There was this intensity about her, an anger in the stomach pit, that made her push down, down. It was done. The cut was deep enough for her punishment. She pressed on the wound. The wound was high enough to conceal under a t-shirt.

She went back to sleep.

STORY CONTINUES

Late lunch was a wonderful meal of flatbread. The collected wood had been piled into five pyres. Each pyre was covered with a round iron dome. Rolled out on top of the dome was a dough ball. The dough was made of simple ingredients: flour, water, salt, and rice. The dough roasted into flexible, chewy bread with large round brown spots on it. This was the traditional way to make bread.

On the way home, Pekhat announced the formation of a theatre group. The college annually re-enacted the great war that had converted the whole world to Islam. The soft Delal was the first to volunteer. Delal pulled the pain ridden Meryem into the group as well. Delal offered Meryem that the acting would be a good distraction from Meryem's chronic pain. Talti swiftly volunteered as well, because he wanted to be close to Delal. Delal gave him an ugly look for raising his hand. Klaus and Abda were assigned to the group, because Pekhat found them to already play natural roles of the great war.

A day later after class, Delal stopped Pekhat from leaving Pekhat wore his striped shirt that made him look especially like a teacher. The other students had already rushed along. Delal wore comfortable pants that were wide at her hips. Her hair was neatly combed back into a pony tail. There was a glistening reflection on her hair, because it was freshly shampooed.

"Pekhat, I am really engaged with the theatre play. Would you permit us to look at the Western collection in the school basement? Seeing artifacts of the Western world would help us really prepare for the theatre play."

"Delal, you know that Western collection is forbidden. Nobody but the curator is to see it. Those artifacts are very subversive and dangerous."

"Pekhat, I know that before the overthrow, you were very into theatre and method acting."

"Oh, Delal, how neat that you remember such a thing as method acting. Indeed, becoming the acted person creates such an illusion. All the Islamic plays are so wooden. You realize that we would get both into trouble, if anyone were to find out."

"We could do it in the afternoon, when everyone has left the school building. Nobody would ever know."

"Meet me at the basement entrance at 5 PM."

BACKFLASH: KLAUS' FLIGHT TO KURDISTAN

The Syrian soldiers that had captured Klaus in Germany had moved him with trucks and stored in rooms with other Germany youth. The journey had arrived on the tarmac of Munich international airport. The concrete was black and wet from a recent rain shower. The fields around the airport were green and hard to see with the setting sun. The hordes of young adults around him was overwhelming.

Like cattle, their bodies rubbed against each other leading the herd of humans to step up the stairs to the plain. He remembered the half shiny and half dirty aluminum with the grooves that formed the stairs. The airplane door was low and made him duck. An intense looking mustached soldier pushed every third person into the belly of the plane.

The seats had been ripped out of the plane. Only the carpet with its orange, red, and brown line pattern had remained. Everyone was standing. The plastic of the walls and overhead bins had turned yellow from age. The windows were black ovals, because the sun was completely down outside. Bright overhead lights created an artificial atmosphere.

The bodies kept coming into the plane. Everyone tried to shuffle back to make room for the newcomers. At first, he kept a polite distance from everyone. The ability to not touch anyone with less than an inch of space was adorable. More newcomers streamed in. Leaning against a hip or back became acceptable. Lifting the hand to scratch an itching nose became difficult due to the limited space. Then full groin to butt contact was forced on the mass of young adults on the plane.

Stories of World War II were called out. Nazis then had rounded up Jews into packed places to suffocate them with gas. An idling truck spewing carbon dioxide was a low cost method. Tense fear roiled the ranks of young Germans.

A lad at the front, near the guards behind the safe metal fence, started reciting the Koran: "All that is heaven and earth gives glory to Allah. He is the mighty, the wise one." A few previously converted Muslims joined the lad. They realized that convincing the guards of their true conversion might save them.

The air was overused and hard to breathe. The young adults around him were mostly wearing t-shirts. One had a dress shirt. Another had a white baker's uniform. There were also young women. The closest woman to him had a baby blue wooly sweater over double D breasts. Her hair was in a pony tail. The boobs were pushed flat against the chest of a greasy haired young man in front of her. Tears tittered at the edge of her eyes.

The guards in the first class safe behind a metal cage took an interest in the Koran reciting German Muslims: "Name the chapters in the Koran that are named after animals."

The loudest Koran reciter snapped to attention with wide open eyes that showed way too much white: "Cow, Cattle, Bee, Ant, Spider, and Elephant."

The guard laughed down on the eager lad: "If you are a true Muslim, you will do anything for Allah, right. So, take this knife and kill the first non-Muslim that you can find."

A small ritual dagger was passed through the gaps in the chain link. The dagger had a brown handle with wood carvings. The youth took a breath for a moment. Then, he swirled around and asked the green shirt wearing, short, blond man: "Which is the longest Koran chapter?"

"I don't know."

The first lad lifted the dagger over the shoulder and stabbed forward repeatedly. The young people next to him tried to stop the stabbing. Yet, the guard pushed a cattle prod through the chain link holes and shocked anyone interfering with the killing. Blood splattered. A small gap formed around the wild stabbing lad. Spit was flying from his mouth. His victim collapsed to the floor.

With deeply puffing lungs the first lad stood over his victim. The free hand was still resting on the knee, because he had to bend down to keep stabbing the succumbed body. The guards laughed: "You are Allah's man now. You are a leader. Make sure that everyone else subordinates to Allah."

The lad with his blue shirt and the red blood spurts looked around. He had power. He would live. Yet, he had to do something. He was terrified of the crowd of hundreds of young Germans, who could crush him against the fence with ease. His eyes darted from face to face to lock with their eyes for a moment: A scared eye, a defiant eye, a startled eye.

Then, a deeply sultry eye with black mascara and other dark lines looked back at him. A German girl, twenty years young, 5 feet 2 inches short, wearing a sluty black tank top with navel piercing, looked back at him. He stormed toward her, as fast as he could press himself through the thick soup of bodies. His hand grabbed the front of her tank top. He pulled on the low neck piece to get a hold of her. Her left braless boob fell out for all to see. It was a soft pink nipple. The nipple area of the breast was pokey like a pyramid rather than round.

As a punk, she was used to aggression for being different. With low legs to keep her balance, she looked back at him defiantly. He pulled down her black jeans to mid thigh. He did not unbutton the jeans. He violently pulled the buttoned jeans over her hips. Then, started spanking her butt violently. The butt was especially round, because she was so small.

"This woman is a naked disgrace in Allah's eyes. I want you all to punish the naked women here according to the law. And, then cover them appropriately. No skin should be visible at all."

Other zealous young man at the front turned around to subdue women around. Nobody in secular Germany would wear the full body and face covering clothes that strict Islam expected. Screams and cries erupted. Yet, there was little struggle. The women had realized that there was no hope of getting away.

The back of the plane around Klaus was more reluctant to join the religious fever up front. Guys tried to hide the gals from sight. Klaus pushed closer to the double D girl. He took off his t-shirt and pulled it over her head to cover her face and hair before anyone could attack her. She silently thanked him by squeezing his hand with hers.

The zealot up front realized that his sway did not reach the end of the plane. So, he created his violent cult even more fervently around him.

After two hours, everyone had calmed down. The passion among the humans were drowned out by the jet engines outside. The first youths had grown tired of standing. They had carefully found their butts to the ground. Hard shins and knees were right around them like a narrow prison cage. Sitting so low obscured the vision to anything but tall legs.

Klaus felt awkward at first sitting down and leaning against shins on all sides. However, the relaxation in his butt from no longer shifting leg to leg was wonderful. Gravity got everyone to lower to the ground. Eventually, rows were set up to sleep. There was not enough space for everyone to lie on their back. However, when they lied on their side, there was enough floor space to let everyone lie down and doze.

Whenever one person wanted to turn, the whole row on the ground had to turn with him. Klaus loved the body contact with Sandy, the girl that he had rescued. When she faced his back, he could feel her full breasts pressing against his back. They were so soft. When he faced her, he could feel her full bum pressing against his loins. Either sensation was beautifully titillating. He looked forward to each side change.

After a few turns, he had a nice erection. At first, he felt odd about pressing his erecting between Sandy's bum cheeks. However, the close space gave him a perfect excuse. When she did not show physical signs of discomfort, he silently enjoyed feeling her bum with his penis through the layers of clothes.

Another turn, Sandy surprised him by not turning. They were lying face to face. Klaus could feel her boobs and penis contact at the same time. Her face was an inch away behind his t-shirt. Though the t-shirt, he could smell a mix of his rancid sweat and her moist, sweet breath. He panicked for a moment.

The panic quickly faded to intently sensing with his skin. She pushed her voluptuous lips behind his t-shirt against his lips. He could feel the coarse texture of his t-shirt. And, he tasted the wetness of her condensed breaths. Mixed in, he could taste the saltiness of either her tears or snot for she had been crying silently.

Below, he could feel her hands swiftly and strongly moving around. An accidental flick to his penis as she pulled on his zipper made his happiness go sky high. Then, she fully held his penis in her hand with all female fingers wrapped around the shaft. He enjoyed the touch for a moment, before he was startled again. She had slipped his cock inside of her.

He wanted to say something in panic. She pressed her mouth against his and whispered: "If we are all going to die, let me have this last cigar of pleasure."

After rubbing his penis inside her vagina a few times, lust overcame them. They were eating each other's mouths through the thick and now very wet t-shirt fabric. He had reached his hand up her top and beneath her bra. His hand fondled the full breasts. Their bodies were filled with heat among the sleepers.

The close contact with the other sleepers bodies required them to move very cautiously and minimalistic. The restraint only intensified their last rather than diminish it. In a way, they were connected to the energies of all of them sleeping around them. With death hanging over them, they were free to skip the condom and fully feel each other skin to skin.

Klaus quickly came before Sandy had a chance to come. Sandy kept fondling his penis until it was had again. She ran her fingers up and down his shaft. She squeezed his penis. She rubbed his penis head all the way along her vulva and then pushed it against her clit. The penis came back to life. Klaus was eager to enter Sandy again.

Without knowing, the exact point in time, both fell asleep in post coital bliss. When Klaus awoke, everyone was still in deep slumber. The cabin lights were at the dim setting. Black sky was outside. Klaus' mind was racing.

"I want to survive. If I want to survive, I have to be ready for anything, even kill a person. If I have to kill a person for the first time, I will be reluctant. It will take time to work up the courage. If I want to survive, I have to kill before the other kills me. To be read, I have to practice. To be ready, I have to kill an innocent person now."

Klaus slowly arose. He shuffled his way to the plane kitchen/galley. He had to move hands and feet to find a place to step. Luckily nobody woke up. In the galley, he found a piece of aluminum strip stapled to a shelf. He pulled it off. Then, he bend the strip back and force on one place. It was almost fun how easily the aluminum snapped side to side. Eventually, it broke into two pieces. A jagged and sharp edge was exposed.

He snuck back to where he had been sleeping before. He felt his own jugular arteries. He memorized how closely they lie to the throat and chin. Then, he wrapped a hand around the mouth of the young man sleeping in front of him. He cut both jugular arteries. The struggle was quickly over with the brain completely deprived of oxygen rich blood. He slipped the bloodied aluminum strip under another body to point the guilt away from him.

STORY CONTINUES

Later that day a little before 5 PM, the theatre troupe collected: Delal, Meryem, Abda, Klaus, and Talti. Pekhat arrived in a rush. "Let's not be seen standing around like something is about to happen." With a yellow flashlight in his hand, he opened the gate to the basement.

The basement was a cool and dark place. Dust had collected into a layer on the floor. The fuses for the lighting had been permanently removed. The walls were raw with the paint crumbled and dropped. Sturdy doors leading out of the main hallway had only numbers written next to them. A clipboard with a wilted sheet had recorded the last cleaning 10 years ago. A fire extinguisher hung at the wall with its expiration long gone.

Long hallways, turns, three steps up, three steps down created a maze. Pekhat surely knew his way around, because he had been a teacher here his whole career. The young students followed with cautious steps and curious eyes. Delal was the most chipper. Klaus had a cool reserve on his face.

Pekhat opened a creaking and protesting door: "This is the Western collection. I will shut you in. If you hear foot steps, be very quiet. The curator is unlikely to unlock the door. In the meantime, I will hold watch in the ground level. You have on hour. Be careful in there. And, never mention a word to anyone."

Pekhat left Delal with a yellow flashlight. The first thing the light beam hit was a person sized cardboard cutout of a white duck with blue clothing: "So, Klaus, you Western people had a duck god?"

"No, Delal, that's Donald Duck. He is a joke. He is there for amusement."

"I don't see, what is funny about a duck. He makes me perhaps hungry, if anything."

"Have you ever noticed that our teacher's face looks a bit like a squirrel? His teeth are always ready to talk like a squirrel is ready to chew on nuts. His nose is a bit raised like that. Wouldn't you admit that thinking of Pekhat as a squirrel is a funny idea?"

"Oh, boy, you are so right, he is a squirrel Pekhat."

Delal's shone the light on a white and gray thumb sized flat box with long strings. Klaus picked it up with a reverent look on his face. He held the piece and string in his flat hands for a moment.

"Let's see, if this has any juice left. This is an iPod. Oh, it is working. Let's see, what is on it. Oh my gosh, the Beatles! Put this into your ear."

"Why would I put that into my ear? It might grow into my brain."

"Don't be silly. Hear Meryem, you try."

Meryem put the ear plug into her ear. Klaus pushed the round play button. Meryem's face lit up with warm joy. She started moving her head side to side. Her eyes batted. Talti grabbed her with both arms at the shoulder and shook her: "Don't let the devil get a hold of you! Remember, Layila's warning story."

"Talti, it's not the devil. It is music. Here try the other ear plug."

Talti was curious yet did not dare to let the ear plug touch his ear. He held the ear plug an inch away. The music softly streamed into his ear: "I don't feel the devil. I only hear boys singing in a foreign language."

A few minutes of cautious listening, the whole group was singing 'Strawberry Fields Forever' with full gusto. The girls had rarely experienced that much fun in their short Kurdish life.

Unfortunately, the decade old batteries gave out quickly. Meryem knocked down a magazine. She held it up. There was a scantily clad woman on the cover with platinum blond hair.

"Klaus read this to us!"

Klaus blustered at the sight of a Playboy magazine. The nudity could really get him in trouble. So, he decided to read every article to avoid getting to the nudie photos. The first article was about skinny dipping. Already after the headline, Meryem wanted to know: "Why would people go naked into water? That's just dangerous?"

"Well, the danger can actually make you feel alive. And, if you do it late at night, it used to not be very dangerous." Then, Klaus broke out into singing the song Nightswimming from REM. They kind of got the gentle feeling of the song and transferred the feeling onto how night swimming during a quiet night would be like.

Outside the door, they could hear steps. They killed the flashlight and hushed. In complete silence the scent of stale dust was the strongest sensual impression. The voice of Imam Abu Dawood was outside: "If there is anyone, here is a deal. Show yourself and you only get half the amount of lashes."

Even though everything was dark, Meryem felt with her fingers that there was a low shelf. She hid behind the low shelf. Her fingers glided over curious fabric. When the steps had left and Klaus had turned the light back on, she held up a pair of blue pants with unusually tough fabric.

"Meryem, those are called jeans. Western people love them. Their strong point is that they make the butt look good."

Meryem dropped her pants to the floor. She stood there in her plain panties for a moment that fit snug around her butt, yet were large as granny panties. Then, she slipped the jeans over her calves and butt. She felt the tight fabric pressing her butt up. She struggled to close the button over her belly. She turned her butt to the group: "How does my butt look?"

Klaus whistled. The jeans were so tight that the butt cheeks had a clear cleft in between them. The waist was cut so low that ample underwear showed.

Talti exclaimed, "I don't see how that makes her butt look good. It only makes it look tight."

"Tight is good. Doesn't it want to make you slap her butt?" replied Klaus.