Operation Buterbrod
Episode 7 - The Sappy Ending



There had been some weeks since he last properly had a dream, despite his vicinity to the Woods that so often conjured them up. Even though, overall - since the Great Burning, the wilderness had become
significantly less powerful, especially after the Severing of the Goddess and the creation of her numerous conduits, one would think that dreams would be in great abundance.

For Muzhik, he had almost lost the desire for dreams, since life had become something better than anything one could dream. His eyes opened and for the briefest of moments, he had forgotten that his soul inhabited a far smaller form. The little Domovoy waited for his vision to adjust to the perspective and for everything to become more proportionate. His little hands reached to adjust a pair of glasses that were not there, for they were not needed.

“Right, that is right…” He felt rather silly. The little Home Spirit was a small man in the form of a doll-like puppet. While some woulddiscouragingly call him a Nutcracker or merely, a superior Soviet take on a ventriloquist dummy - he was crafted in the image of himself, by the Lady of the Woods.
His head wrapped in a small ushanka and the rest of himself not too far from his own Siberian styled, Far East district uniform - the Lady of the Woods had done an excellent job, all those decades ago - forming a conduit that would best host his soul.

It was not the most perfect solution, but to escape death and to have his sentience, his consciousness fully possessed the living wood of the Goddess herself? Truly a blessing. And the fact that his body produced… substances of rejuvenating substances also was a great benefit to his wife.

A strong word, that was. Wife. Surely, they were not married in the typical sense, but marriage itself in the legal or, laughably, ‘Christian’ sense was not the concern of a man Muzhik’s sort.

While he would never truly manifest an organic body, his wooden one was surprisingly expressive and held similar points of articulation. Which put him in the uncanny valley to the uninitiated, but the little soldier was not the oddest thing that appeared in these woods. It was here that only the bravest of wanderers would dare come. Not even the zealots of the Church have dared to step foot in the Woods of Dreams since the Great Burning. Yet, an odd,
premonition-tinged feeling in his ‘gut’ made him think that would one day change.

The home had become rather comfortable and somehow even more filled with arcana and books. A symptom of Matilde’s full embracing of a life of a witch, once under the tutelage of the Lady of the Woods. Now, she had fully been independent and had long begun her own studies into the truly esoteric. Once one got a bit of a taste for this far end of the occult, it was not so possible to ever leave.

The boundaries that separated thi sword from the ‘ordinary’ could hardly ever be crossed over again without there being consideration for what had been experienced. The Miracles that were witnessed, shan’t be ignored so easily. There was no room for skepticism ever again and obviously, Mati had never held a skeptical thought in her head regarding the World of Miracles.

Outside, the sound of their shared carriage of various goods - rattled to a stop. Obviously, Mati had returned home and she had gotten the chocolate mixture that she craved so intently the past few days with more than one or two complaints. Muzhik usually attended her on such ventures, for he could simply play the part of a pagan idol or wooden guardian owned by a witch - to the locals that did inhabit the town. Of course, Mati’s reputation was clearly that of a witch, but hardly anyone in the ‘secular’ world would believe that it was anything but a way of life and a religiously held belief with no bearing on the physical world. It must have been nice to live in such ignorance, as Muzhik once did as a living man.

However, her little husband had fallen asleep. The culprit was nearby as he stretched his limbs again in the chair. This chair.

This chair, this chair, this chair, this chair. It had surely seen things and it was by magic alone that it was kept as clean as it was. But its essence, along with the substances of Muzhik’s
regenerative properties, gave it a far longer life as a sturdy piece of beloved furniture than it ever was predicted to last for.

His elbow knocked against a hardcover book. It was on none other than the Persian legend of Arash. In terms of Iranian mythology, this was the hero of all heroes that also largely explained many of their self-sacrificial attitudes in the modern political climate of the world.

Arash… was an archer that was credited with ending the war between the Persians and Turks. A conflict that had lasted over half of an entire century. He was in the service of the last king of Ancient West Asia, King Manuchehr, as far as written history and spoken word went. An otherwise peaceful man, he ended the war with an arrow so noble, it took his own life in the process.

A hero of Western Asia, his tales even had spread to the Soviet Caucasus, which was where Muzhik had first heard the utterance of Arash the Archer. Apparently, his legendary shot was what crafted the border between Persia and Turan. The idea was remarkable, a weapon that could split the earth and travel over 2500 kilometers. If human beings had developed such a weapon like this, it would never be used for good, that was for sure. Hardly anyone today had the spirit and nobility of Arash. If he even ever existed.

“Aghh…” Sometimes, that wooden acorn head of his was a matryoshka of complicated thoughts. And each layer was more petty and silly than the other. But once he was fully conscious again, Muzhik became at ease. “Oh, it was you…”

Resting on the top of the stove, seemingly unbothered by its tremendous heat, the black cat Lovecraft lept from its perch and approached the Domovoy house-spirit of carved wood. Muzhik frowned only at first before he splintered forth a smile.

“Ahhhh… you were giving me some dreams to distract me, huh? All those memories? I forgot, you were always my connection to this place.”

He really wondered how it had happened. Lovecraft, as a spirit-familiar, had some close connection to this realm or at least, the Lady of the Woods. And yet, by sure chance, he had found himself in allegiance to a slavic family that had passed him down, matriarch to matriarch, only for there to be Muzhik - the first patriarch of the family to receive him.

“Since I was just the youngest of a man, you’ve given me dreams and ensured that my memories were preserved with perfect clarity. For that, I have to thank you…” Muzhik huffed. “Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to return to the world of the living for a bit… Nghhh…”

The big man encased in a little body would not so easily admit he was still tired. Anyone would be, after such a long nap, such a long sleep. Mati must have been gone for some hours and here he was, being rather lazy. Still, at the very least, he ensured the household was still imbued with an immensely positive energy.

“Muzhik!” Mati arrived and the door slammed, accidentally, hard enough to shake the whole house as if it were the rickety carriage. She surprised herself and nearly dropped her groceries. “Ahh!”

Luckily, she managed to catch them before they could fall from her hands, but it was still a fairly clumsy maneuver. The large brown bag that contained plenty of vegetables had torn, yet the bag that contained some pre-made bread, kolbasa from the slavic-store and chocolate mixings, miraculously was unharmed.

“Hmmm…” She composed herself quickly and refused to let Muzhik see her own apparent surprise at the mishap. Mati had not aged a day, largely due to her intake of his rejuvenating… puppet-milk, so to speak.

Dressing in the ornate hood and robins that were gifted to her by the Lady of the Woods, Muzhik noticed that another part of his body had… surely shown to be wooden. For whatever reason, the concealed and modest Mati looked especially delicious today. Was it one of the earlier dreams that had conjured it up?

Mati could sense it, as she was putting everything away and preparing some buterbrod. The proper offering to a home spirit such as the Domovoy that Muzhik had become so many years ago.

He has stored a lot of pilk… I-I mean, puppet milk.

The faintest blush painted her face and her own glasses fogged slightly. Yes, that meant that it would be time to harvest some from him again. She could be so selfish in this regard. Mati tried to distract herself with her diligent focus of slicing
the bread. However, the fashion that she used knives was always of great concern to even the uncarvable Muzhik. He opted to stay away from her as she carved the bread loaf and applied some butter, as well as Doctor’s Sausage. For the fact alone that he did not want to become a wooden knife slot by accident.

Instead, Muzhik rather wanted to do the slotting. And with a mischievous grin, he sat in the chair and focused on Mati’s shape beneath the robes. Yes, that plump butt of her brought him some great pleasure to imagine.

Already, Muzhik imagined being crushed by it somewhat due to the size difference. But also, he wanted to give it a few healthy spanks and to fill her with not just pilk, but some sap, as well. When he had let some of his more animalistic spiritual attributes out, that inner wolf of his, the bear of lust, he would produce sap rather than pilk.

A side effect of his transfiguration into a Domovoy. However, it was not too much of a bother, as Mati had received enough of his rejuvenating seed from him to last several more lifetimes. Indeed, this was also the key behind the Lady of the Wood’s seeming immortality. Mati could not complain that she, too, had a wooden lover that was willing to fulfill her needs. As a husband, a lover and a conduit for her own longevity. In the end, it was entirely beneficial to both.

Mati could not imagine a life without Muzhik. And Muzhik could not imagine a life without her. Just the thought, the consideration of it being a possibility, even though it was utterly unlikely… it had nearly brought some tears to her eyes. She didn’t even have any onions to blame!

The thought rammed into her head, just as he had rammed into her so many times in the past.

I am going to march over there and suck his wooden dick. Mati thought and spun around. Far more
practiced and capable than she used to be. Her
clothes lifted in the swirl to reveal the legs that Muzhik loved so much.

Already, he had removed his cock from his trousers and had gripped his trunk with one hand and stroked his branch with the other. One eye closed shut and the other open.

“Muzhik!”

“W-what!”

“Already?”

“Just warming it up…”

“Oo-oh…”

Out of the tens of thousands of times they have done this by now, there was still this air of innocence to Mati that could never be defiled. At first. Once she got into it, it would be more than enough.

She stomped over with the plate of buterbrod ready, only to place it beside the chair. Lovecraft ran away, for not even he would dare touch the sacred buterbrod offering that was an essential part of the loving pact and marriage between both Mati and Muzhik.

Mati was eye level with the sitting Domovoy-Muzhik, positioned on her knees, which had gotten rather veteraned in this position for a multitude of reasons.

“Muzhik.”

“Matilde.” Muzhik showed his teeth, his wooden face somehow flushed. His wooden cock stroked so near her mouth. “I want to fuck your face… Please? I want to give you some pilk…”

Some pilk?” Mati found that hilarious. “Pervert… you are so stoic sometimes, but when you store so much pilk-”

“Lovecraft gave me some dreams too, so I guess I’ve been more stressed than I’d like to admit lately…” He mentioned, eyes transfixed on Mati’s through her glasses. Muzhik did his best to ignore the reflection of himself, polishing his lacquered dick with his hands. “I guess its only natural…”

“There is a lot going on in the world, as always…” But Mati did not want to think about that. To think about the Infinity War that was Germany’s endless Siberian campaign that had lasted decades and effectively bankrupted Europe under the Axis. Rather amusingly, those who lived in communities such as this, in rurality, lived far better than even the ‘winners’ of the last Great War, did in the cities. In Berlin, people would kill for the amount of bread and butter and luncheon meat that Muzhik got to eat practically daily. “Mmmm… Look at my lips.”

“Oooh? W-we are starting then?” Muzhik melted somewhat, he enjoyed it when she took the lead, even if he knew that he would steal the reins near the end, despite the size difference. With him being smaller, it made dominating poor Mati all the more fun. “Ahhh… those lips are begging for me…”

“Y-you got to say it like that each time?” Mati didn’t bother to lower her hood just yet, she
knew that it added some erotic intrigue to it all, for herself as well. But her fingers already pressed against her clothed sex and felt the warmth behind the layer of her black, somewhat lacy panties. The very kind that she wore just because she knew it made Muzhik hard, whenever he glanced up at her from beneath her garbs.

Mati sighed. What was she going to do with him? Well, she had a few things in mind. Before she was the one to be ‘disciplined’ by him, she would be the one to tease him. She blew him a kiss and then kissed his wooden phallus. It was more than enough to make him shutter.

“Oooh… Mati, the things you do to me…” Muzhik finally removed his hands from his own stiffness. The benefit of being this size, meant that he got to fully feel all so many pleasurable things in great multitudes. Although, his own ability to transfigure his form would be abused on occasion. For now, he was happy to have his dick kissed cutely by Mati. “Time to polish my wooden mushroom?”

“Yes, actually…” The next kiss was far more wet. The taste of his wooden cock was so enticing, that finally, she let her tongue fling out and flick against it. Audibly tapping it and letting her spit enticingly glaze the top of it. Once it was nice and gilded on top, she polished the rest of his dick with some loving energy. “Mmmm… you taste like honey today…”

“More like honey and sawdust…” Muzhik let himself joke, stiffening further as her lips became more warm, more wet and more focused on giving him the attention he yearned for. In practically no time at all, Mati had begun to fellate the Domovoy. And rapidly, he would huff and feel the overwhelming pleasure of her larger mouth, in comparison, being able to take his cock with such ease. “Mmmm… Yes, Mati… you still know, don’t you…?”

“Mhmm?” What exactly did Mati know, she wondered? As of now, she was too busy bobbing her head on his prick. Sucking more and more and swirling over the entire shape of his wooden manhood, which stood at attention like a true soldier for her tongue. “Ehh…?”

“That you belong to the URSS…” Muzhik quipped, as he pushed his little hips toward her, sticking his schlong further across her tongue. The way he would jab at her tongue and inner cheeks like that was surely erotic. “Ooh? Not even an eyeroll this time…?”

The only thing that Mati rolled was her warm, soft as velvet or silk, tongue over him. She had gotten especially good at polishing his lacquered appendaged and it would not be long before she had made him utterly feral.

“Ahghh… Mati, mhmh… Yeah, just… ahh, I love seeing those lips over me like that…”

And enduringly, Mati gave him a closed-eye, wide smile, which audibly broke the suction around his dick. While she showed him her teeth, she playfully flicked his dick back and forth with her tongue before she took him in deeply.

“Snlrrk…” Mati would not choke on this dick, rather, she would be the one fucking her own mouth with it for now. The rough oral had begun and the wetness from her mouth had begun to drain over him and onto the chair. “Aghhhla-”

Mati’s lips would begin to pound against his pelvis as she would take his length over and over again. The erotic sounds of her practically sucking every single part of his entire cock had driven them both wild.

Now, Muzhik actively bounced his hips into her mouth and swabbed her the very beginning of the back of her throat, with his own hands holding her cheeks and dragging the bobbing along. Muzhik fucked her mouth the same way he would fuck her body. It was a little rough, of course, but entirely out of love.

“Naghhhh…. Ahhh… Mhm, take that Soviet dick, Mati!” Muzhik gasped, just as Mati finally lowered her hood and allowed him to have some more free reign over the actions. Of course, he would prod her cheeks with his dick and swipe it over her tongue repeatedly. He’d swing his hips as he dabbed against her sweet, warm mouth and ensured she tasted his wood religiously. And like a corrupted nun, Mati let the taste of the polished phallus completely take
over her taste buds.

“I love fucking your Spanish mouth… Mmmmm, that Galician tongue was made to serve my Soviet cock, right?” Playfully, Muzhik would ask such things as scrubbing his prick roughly against every soft and wet surface past her lips. Mati’s lips, themselves, pursed around his prick and perpetually made smooching sounds as he pumped his body into her. “Y-yes, kiss my pelvis, mhmmm… Ahhh, this mouth has been claimed by the URSS…”

What a dastardly little gremlin he could be, especially now that he pulsed in his erratic need to hump against her tongue. Wooden and flesh smacks combined as Mati’s chin got more and more sticky. And the whole time, Muzhik would look down and see his own blushed face in her glasses, beyond that - the eyes he loved so much and loved to make eye contact with.

“Yes, Mati… watch me as I stuff my cock in your mouth, oughh!” It was so erotic and it made his hard wood even harder somehow. “Ahhh, yeeeees, this is it! L-let me look down at you!”

In some cases, Muzhik certainly missed the height advantage he had over her. But Mati was happy to oblige with a rather cute compromise. Her hands took him under the arms and lifted him up, so that he could pound her face from above. While he was at the mercy of her grasp, he sat in her hands and happily fucked her lips as he gripped her head.

“Ahh! Ahh! Matilde! Matilde, you want this!? Yeah?”

“Mghhm!”

“I am going to… ngh!” And after the considerable effort, the first of the reserves were drained as he busted a large, loving, rejuvenating pilk-nut in her mouth. “Ahhh… this is why we call your mouth the Nutcracker, isn’t it…?”

Muzhik nearly rolled his eyes back so hard he passed out, but still, in this held position - he let Mati lovingly suck and nurse his cock. Tasting his delicious milk. The moloko of rejuvenation dripped down her chin just as much as her saliva did. With his cock soaking-wet, it swelled ever so slightly.

Once he was placed down onto the chair again, he watched as Mati fed on his timber penis, his treen-peen. She loved to have her mouth bred by the Domovoy, to taste his gift of pilk just for her. Muzhik stroked her face and was reluctant to let his cock be pulled out so soon.

“Why does humping your pretty innocent face never get old, Mati…?” He asked himself, but also her.

“Ahhh…” The blushed lady replied with an open display of her mouth. Nestled on her tongue, his cum - soon to be swallowed harshly. But not after the tip of her tongue dabbed his still hard prick some more. “Ah-hum.”

Muzhik always slumped a bit at the sight of her swallowing his seed. It made the naturally in-human side of him want to just hunt her more, pursue her pleasure and his own even farther.

“Naghhh… Mati…” Like a little wooden king on a throne, he would make a demand of her. “Ride my dick…”

“Oh.” She glanced down and then stood up. “You want to inject me directly…?”

“Yes, I want to fuck you and smack your ass red…” Huffed Muzhik. He easily looked past the sight of his saliva drenched dick as Mati slowly raised her robings. “Ooooooh…”

Muzhik’s chiming heart skipped some beast as she saw those delicious thighs of Mati, just above those boots that always got him properly stiff. But here were her bare thighs, which made his eyes open fully and finally… those delicious black panties that concealed her bubble butt.

“That ass haunts my thoughts all the time…” He admitted, watching as Mati’s advantage of size just emphasized her plump butt even more for him.

“Trust me, I know when you look at it and I feel it in my tummy when you think about it…”

Her lacy, black panty clad ass rubbed firmly against his dick - which only encouraged it to swell, swell and significantly grow some more. Yes, this was an appropriate length for what was to come, Muzhik believed.

Muzhik’s hands reached out to feel each cheek with love. Of course, Mati would sit down hard on him, which made him exhale, but he was able to lay back some and enjoy the sensation of being partially smashed by her ass as it beautifully formed over him - as well as his cock.

“Ahhh… Mati… I can feel the stickyness from your pussy too…” He could also smell her
distinct scent, which made him lick at his own lips. “Mmmm… Let's do this…”

It was like a holy unveiling, as she looped her fingers into the panties’ band and slid them down, further releasing the shape of bubble butt. Muzhik loudly inhaled at awe at her pear shape, watching as she sat down firmly on his cock.

The chair shook, the floor shook, the entire house seemed to shake. As Mati sat down again and again on his dick. Pounding herself against it and twisting her hips in a way that even made her yelp out in pleasure, all allowing it to stir inside of her. Muzhik groped her plushness with intense eagerness, occasionally reaching around to grab at her pudge too.

Everything about her body, even after decades of being together, still made him wild. It couldn’t have just been the fact he was carved out of a fertility goddess either, this was a part of him that was amplified somewhat by the purity of his soul essence as it was reinserted into this vessel.

In other words, Muzhik loved her and his body yearned for her so much. Just as her pussy fully enveloped him… just for him to suddenly increase the size of his dick in her dramatically.

“Oooh, oooooooouh!” Mati gasped, being reminded of the time he had completely pulverized her virginity. This was a stiff stick to take and while the surprise could have been forewarned, Mati had to embrace it as her body did. “Ouuh, Muzhik! The big peen has returned…”

“The Soviet bear has awakened…” Both hands came down on her ass hard, which forced a pleasant ripple through her plump ass and even through her somewhat plump legs. “Ahhh… Time to liberate your pussy for the URSS!”

“Ahhh, yes… hold on!” Mati did not need to tell him twice. Muzhik grasped her hips and tugged himself into her pussy again and again. The phallus squeaked inside her tight slot as she moved away from the chair in a crawl. There was a place by the bookshelf that was used for little situations just like this. “Y-yes, hold on still!”

“Ahhh! A true Soviet never gives up so easily!” Declared Muzhik, as he triumphantly grasped onto her soft womanhood, pounding his wooden pecker into her cunt hard enough to cause her to practically drain her pleasure over her thighs already.

A foot rest that was otherwise for the chair would be a fine place to lean against, Mati knew. She placed herself over it and raised her ass in the air, feeling full how Muzhik drove his prick deeper and deeper into her. This also gave him the pleasurable perceptive of being able to feel nice and tall, despite everything.

Balls deep, over and over again, Muzhik nearly feared that he’d slip all the way into her. His booted feet cling to her thighs as they begin to sweat and redden. Fucking her pussy like this was a familiar thing, but it was much harder than it looked sometimes.

“H-here…” A stack of books were slid between her legs. Prepared just for this occasion. In fact, the top book had already plenty of stains from her happy valley and also his pilk, not to mention - visible scruffs from his boots. “Ahhh… now remind me who I belong to!”

“The URSS! Yes!” Muzhik had far more support as he stood on the books, able to slam dunk his mushroom into her Spanish cake, all while he got to see the beautiful side of her butt bounce against his
thrusts. Just as he fucked her mouth earlier, he clung onto her and continued to shove himself in deep. “Mmmmm! My beautiful wife! Soviet property or not, you are one of a kind!”

“Mmmm! Muzhik! Butter my, uhhh… bread! With your uhhh… cock! Turn me into buterbrod!”

Her ass being smacked red and kneaded like dough, Mati couldn’t hold it in any longer as she nearly blasted poor Muzhik off of the books with her squirting orgasm, practically drenching her Domovoy husband - but hardly to his complaint, as he opened his mouth and let her pleasure drain into his mouth as he continued to breed her Galician pussy until it was melting putty around his Siberian schlong.

It was far from a toothpick, that was for sure. The manipulation of its size had made its enjoyable longevity for the two of them that much greater. Even though he could not exceed what his original body had permitted, it was still a considerable size that packed Mati’s love-locker nice and tight.

“Ooooh, I’ll butter your buns too…” Promised Muzhik, just as the heat inside of his penis began to grow. At first, he mistook Mati’s tightness at her entrance for the cause, but no - it was deep within his shaft, the incredible seed that was soon to be born from the tip of phallus. “Ouuuh, the pilk has been stirred and I am about to burst!”

It was said with such bravado, a great sense of achievement and victory. Knowing that he’d soon blast her womb to the womb was the happiest joy. Still plastered in Mati’s orgasm, the wet Muzhik made a considerably loud slosh as he penetrated her again and again. The pounding that left her plump goodness reddened would continue with extreme effort.

“Yes-yes-yes-Muzhik-yes!” Mati coiled and embraced the Soviet cock as it drilled her without ceasing. Every part of her vagina’s innerwalls kissed and caressed the manhood, especially now that his
love-sap began to pour into her. And that was just the pre-pilk. “Oouuh, yeeees, I’m feeling it!” Mati gasped as the warmth of its first pouring had erupted.

The first pearls of Domovoy cum swirled deep inside of her, enough that a large strand crept out and shot out of the seal of Muzhik’s dick and her entrance. The steaming hot, white glob of wood-cock, pleasure-glue painted the floor loudly, but not without leaving a wet smear against her leg that caused her to shiver.

“Ahhhh!” Clenching her body around him, she squeezed out the other rewards into her. There was no mistaking this feeling, a steady stream of pilk had burst into her. Muzhik had successfully bred her once again and his milky seeds poured recklessly into the packed-tight womb, where she would cultivate the most significant amount of the rejuvenation properties.

“Oo–o–ooohhhhoh!” Matilde was outright ashamed of how much her euphoric senses worshiped the presence of Muzhik’s Siberian dick-snow.

“Uuuuraaa!” Meanwhile, Muzhik popped his dick out of her and the tip flung a burst that would stain her clothes for sure. At this rate, a mix of his penis-glue and her pussy juice had already seeped into her boots. “What a wet mess, ahhh… I love making my wife shiver at my touch…”

Like a true artisan, and true to his promise, he used his prick like a paintbrush and scraped it against her ass cheeks. Each one being drizzled with his white glaze, as if it was not enough that he turned her cake into a Russian-cream filled one.

The books were entirely ruined and were doomed to be stuck together for an eternity, as puppet milk drizzled out of the thoroughly pleasured sex of Matilde. Even Muzhik shook as he finished drawing a hammer and sickle, composed of his cum, both sides of her ass’s flank.

His dick would return to a more proportionate size and shape. But still rather large for the body he packed it on.

Matilde felt her hips being squeezed again. There’s more?! She wondered, as the blissful whiteness of his love had reached her tummy pudge.

“Muuuuzhik… are you going to sap me?” Mati asked, small exhausted years of pleasure in her eyes. “Oooouh, you monster-Domovoy… do you really want it in my ass that bad?”

Muzhik admired the asshole before him, her already wet cheeks beckoned him as he teased her exit. Preemptively, he twitched his phallus and allowed a single droplet of white warmth to enter her black hole.

“It's just so cute and nice, you know I just want to sap your ass…”

“Y-you animal! You are going to give into the beast and sap my butthole?!” Mati resisted at first, but upon feeling the warmth of his pearl trail inside of her forbidden place… she sighed. Relentling. “F-fine. But only because you really have been a good Domovoy lately…”

The hammer-and-sickle cum painting was slapped off her ass by him, Muzhik was pleased so far, but he would not let her just say such things without some discipline.

“Mati… Comrade Mati, you belong to the URSS and that means you must not be insubordinate, yes?”

“Mhmhm…” She played along because it made her tummy cramp with how hot it was. The two’s face were the colour of chopped beets.  “Y-you are at least going to suck my chest, r-right, hubby?”

“Oouh, uhh…” That sweet voice had nearly distracted him from inserting his penis into her ass. “O-of course.” God, he loved her.

He also fairly enjoyed the fact she let him take her anally every so often, but not ever with the full size. It was fine, knowing he could explore her forbidden hole was more than enough for him.

With his wooden bottom lip bitten, the sort of animalistic purr Muzhik let out as he choked his dick with her asshole reminded Mati that was was truly an elemental beast that simply had the soul of her husband inside of it. But no, this was truly him.

A loving, caring husband that gave her pilk… but also desires her ass. So indecent, but she would have lied if she said there was not enjoyment in knowing he was so pleasured taking her from behind some more. If it wasn’t for the fact it actually felt good in the most lewd way, she would never have agreed to it. She just wished that he shot more pilk up there than sap.

“Mmmmh…. Go ahead, Muzhik, enjoy your beastly f-fun…”

“I will, Matilde, my love…” Rather than abuse her anally, Muzhik took his time and drew his dick into her and out of her repeatedly. All with the cutest little gasps, but also - the wolf-like growl that showed the unnatural part of his heart. His magic body knew not to waste any pilk on a hole that could not receive its mystical properties, so Muzhik now felt the deep storage of sap build up inside of him.

Conjured by the alchemy of sex, it began to bubble within him and fill his member. The clearly sticky sounds he made as he let the amber-liquid gradually drain into the anal session, made Mati cringe but also gasp as she felt the many strands of the sap goop her butt.

“Oooh…” It was a sensation that hardly could be described in words. The sap was unpleasant at first, but the texture of slight resistance only made Muzhik give it to her butt some more. Now the books were just as fucked as Matilde, being as the golden, alternative cum poured over it like maple syrup on pancakes. “Ooohh… I’m gooping, Mati… Ooh!”

Completely flushed and gasping as if for dear life, Muzhik had run out of energy as he held onto her hips - which meant that Mati had to slam her ass against him some more to help. An act that was much appreciated, with this unique type of friction in the relative tightness of her tunnel.

Terribly, it seemed that there was just as much sap to suddenly slosh into her as there was pilk. Somewhat slimy, the syrupy-bestial cum made for a sticky mess. Muzhik’s mouth was wide open, drooling practically - as he leaked into her again and again.

“Ouuuuuh, Matilde-”

“Y-yes…?”

“I sapped in your butt…”

“I know…”

“I sapped your ass… your asshole, I sapped it!”

“I-I know sweetie, you can be proud of it… E-ehhh…”
“S-sorry, almost done…”

One last triumphant thrust and… there. A bit of puppet milk, as his love for her reminded his body of the human soul inside once more. The pearls of love would surely help with cleaning it up later. But for now, Muzhik had felt exhausted.

“Oooh… wow!” He stumbled off of the books, only to look back and admire his work. Thoroughly sapped and gushed with puppet milk, Matilde had been utterly made love to you by the Domovoy and he could not have been happier. “Mmmm… Time for the pampering…”

“Yes!” Excited, but exhausted, Mati collapsed off of the rest and rolled onto her back.
The rest of her clothed were pulled up and Muzhik grinned full heartedly as he got to rub her
belly a little. “Ouhm…”

“I love this tummy…” Muzhik gave it a loving kiss. “Now… time for our favourite part.”

Lovingly and for a long time, the two of them completely drenched in evidence of their love and also their loving lust, Muzhik sucked on her titties. He even bit them lightly a few times,
nibbling them nice and red - as he did her body in general.

Mati would squeak like a mouse as she sucked on her boobs with his full mouth - his hands also were happy to twist and turn her nipples, tug and press.

“Schlk… mmmmm, schlk…” Muzhik made sure she heard every sip, lick and suckle sound. He enjoyed the taste of her chest and was always happy to let her breasts be slick with his Domovoy drool. “Ahhh…” And of course, occasionally, his ever sensitive penis would be rubbed against them, only for her nipples to be polished by him again soon after.

The day would pass on into evening, as the two proceeded to clean one another up. Matilde always got a sudden jolt of energy, as her body consumed the pilk and made her so wondrously alert. All while Muzhik was nearly dizzy and needed some pampering and guidance to normalize as his body began to fill with his spirit again.

This was hardly their stickiest or messiest session. But it was a typical one, regardless. The exchange of love between them had been going on for decades and there was never a doubt, never a bit of boredom and hardly ever any second guessing.

Their feelings for one another were as complex as they were simple. And while they made love, they also fucked. And while they fucked, they also made love.

But at the end of the day, the two would share an offering of buterbrod and in their meager conditions, they would sleep with their hands held. Fingers intertwined, as best as they could manage.

On this night in particular, Mati had woken early and hugged him with great earnest. Without much else to say, the two embraced in their comfortable love and Muzhik managed to utter a small song.

A lullaby. For the dream that never ended, the life that he was so happy to live, so glad to have. And the song would tell of the wolves that slept among the trees, of how they yearned to escape the dreaded hunters.

And the lyrics would tell of the bats that swayed in the breeze, who dared to fight the cold winds that wished to cast them away. Of how the anxious souls of slumbering men and women would suddenly bolt awake - just as the wolf.

But the perspective would always be the same.

The wolves feared the end of their lovely little clan and thus, against the hunter, they still would hide beneath the trees. For every predator had something to fear, a larger predator.

And yet there was the fox, so nobly stupid. Once, Muzhik wished to be like him. To die so dumbly, having trotted out into the snow and to have their life darted away by a hunter’s bullet. To see the blue, cloudless sky one last time.

But no, Muzhik knew that he was the wolf in his den beside his beloved Mati. Where he was comfortable, where he was safe, where he would love her and she would love him. The wolves, even the steppe wolves, who so aggressively fought one another… would not their most loved wives be left alone to tremble.

And the wolf would guard their loves, from ghouls, from wraiths, hags and witches. Even the hunter and his wicked bow. Even the hunter and his loud, ringing rifle.

Come the night, the birds would become so silent and if one listened closely enough, the distant waters of the oceans, being pulled by the moon’s gravity - could be heard. In the middle of these woods, all one could hear was the soft rhythm of mother nature’s heart.

Even the cows turn to the moonlight and rest while standing. And even the wolves, while some may bravely howl, still rest contently in wait for the hunter. For they wished nothing more than to scare away heartache and woe, for that is all that those who hunt for sport bring.

And the lullaby would end, with Mati and Muzhik suddenly back to sleep. The sway of gentle bristles and pines, Mother Nature stroking the flowing locks of her beloved planet - created a soft rhythm to encourage further rest.

To think, it was once Muzhik that was the hunter. Who would slice and dice, cut others up nice. The hunter that came for the wolves. The beast that made the sunlight die for an evening. And now, more than anything else, he enjoyed and loved his peace. The war, no matter how close, no matter how distance - was a resonance in retroactive history. To Muzhik,
he had seen the beginning and end of his life and it all started, it all ended, with his one true
love.

The sun blistered Euskadi that morning. Not a hint of rain and even the cold had been run away from by the blissful warmth.

And to what, did Muzhik wake up to? Not to his sleeping wife, but to his attentive wife,
presenting him a meal on a plate. Bread. Butter. Luncheon meat.

He remembered what he had fought for, so many years ago. The right to enjoy some simple buterbrod with someone he loved more than anything else, even life.

Finally, the dream he always wanted - had come true. And there was suddenly no need for dreams ever again.



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