I often wonder what a person’s last moments look like.
Does their life flash before their eyes, like all those cliched accounts in movies and books and bad sex stories tell me?
Is there a white light that feels warm and fuzzy?
Do you actually feel anything? Is the moment long, or is it short? Is it true that you actually shit yourself one last time in the moment of your death?
It’s different for everyone, I guess. Hitler certainly didn’t feel anything like that.
“I didn’t see anything special, no white light, no angels, no flashes of my life. I was there, and then I was gone. Like the dust of an Untermensch in the wind.” the former chancellor of Germany told me when I asked him about it once, and maybe now it’s time to explain a few things.
The first time I saw Hitler’s ghost was the day after my 19th birthday. There I was, lying in my underwar in my sweet smelly bed – of course I was still pretty wasted from the night before. I was just contemplating whether I should get some junk food from McDonald’s, or junk food from Burger King, and just as I was touching my junk to the thought of getting junk food and sex from that sweet girl in that sexy yellow miniskirt I saw at the pub I celebrated my birthday in, I heard his voice for the first time: “Mark.”, which was – and still is – my first name, and I had gotten quite used to my being called like that by people with physical bodies.
However, it was still a pretty big shock to hear it out of the non-existing mouth of a non-physical entity I thought of as nothing more but silly nonsense just minutes ago; and there it was again – “Mark.” – and I could nothing but answer in that shitty, weak voice of mine every little girl in the world would be ashamed to have, the specific type of voice I got when my mom first caught me masturbating and asked me what I was doing, the voice I got when I first asked a girl out (she declined, to the total and utter surprise of no one), the voice that haunts my dreams like some kind of retarded version of a childhood trauma, and in the manly and proud spirit of that voice I managed to whisper: “Y-yes?”
“I am the ghost of Adolf Hitler”, my new friend told me, “maybe this will surprise you”
Why, yes, it did surprise me a little bit. Why would the ghost of the man who caused the second world war appear in my room?
And in that moment, I thought, I had found the answer to my question of how a person’s last moments would look like. Clearly I had drank so much alcohol I was either in a coma right now, or at least suffered substantial brain damage. So I reacted like any sane person would react, I started screaming as loud as I could, or at least as loud as my damaged lungs would allow me, the coughing caused by my screaming serving as a reminder to quit smoking so much dank weed, and just as my pathetic attempt at imitating the cute girl in horror films ended, my sister stormed in my room.
Man, I loved looking at her body, it seemed to be made of nothing but bouncing, sweet tits, long legs, and a cute, round ass that I just wanted to put my hands on and never let it go; there she was, only in an old, too tight t-shirt and some panties, in my room, in this house we were both living in along with the rest of my family, in this county where incest was illegal.
“What the FUCK dude, did the alcohol kill your last remaining brain cells? Would it kill you to keep it down? Some people are trying to sleep here, fuck. You look worse than I did the day after I turned 21. Is everything okay or why did you decide to scream as if your dick fell off?”
“I-I just…though I was in, like, a coma or dying or…”
“No, you’re not, now shut up and let me sleep fuck damn it”, she said as she walked out and I couldn’t help but staring at her two perfect cheeks moving out of my room.
Alright, I must have hallucinated. I mean, why would the voice of Hitler’s ghost talk to me?
“Wow, your sister is hot.”
Oh fuck I’m too young for brain damage.
“Don’t worry, by the way, she can’t hear me. Only you can.” The look on my face must have told Hitler that this was precisely part of what I worried about.
“Oh, wait, do you think you’ve gone mad? Nah, I can assure you I’m as real as good germany steel. Here, I’ll show myself to you. Don’t worry, you’re not schizophrenic, I really am Adolf Hitler”
And indeed he began to manifest before my eyes. “See?” the man who commanded the Wehrmacht until his suicide in 1945 exclaimed with a hint of pride, “You’re not insane. I’m here to help you.”
I finally could say something: “What?”
“Yeah. Now listen to me: I already noticed a few things you could improve about yourself in the short time I’ve been here. First – you shouldn’t get eat junk food all the time, it’s ruining your health. Why don’t you become a vegetarian like me?”
“Erm no offense but I don’t think you’re exactly a good example of how someone should live their life.”
“Yeah no offense but I don’t think you’re in any position to criticize me, Mr ‘I’m in lying here in my boxershorts wondering simultaneously about whether I’m brain-damaged from all the booze I had last night, and whether I should go to McDonald’s or Taco Bell for my next round of junk food’.”
“At least I didn’t order the murder of millions of people”, I angrily replied, “and the alternative was Burger King, not Taco Bell”. I began getting frustrated by the arrogance of my guest.
“Whatever, do you want my help or not? I also noticed that your clothes and your room look like shit, and you should also shave more regularly. Ladies may dig moustaches, but they surely don’t like neckbeards.”
I decided it was probably the best idea to give in if I ever wanted to get rid of him. “Fine, I’ll improve my diet, I’ll clean my room, and I’ll buy some Hugo Boss or whatever you think looks great. Anything else?”
“Yes”, he said with a smug look on his non-physical face, “you have to have sex with your sister.”
“How? I mean, what?”
“Don’t act like I’m stupid, son. I may have miscalculated the strength of the Soviet Union, but it doesn’t take a Gestapo officer to see that you’re clearly into her.”
“What?”
“Freud may have been a jew, but his idea that many young men need to fulfill their incest fantasies in order to be content was certainly a good one.”
“I’m, like, seventy percent sure Freud never said that.”
“Doesn’t matter, it’s still true. Come on, don’t tell me you didn’t look at that sweet hard ass of hers, tell me you didn’t love how her titties pressed against the old and thin fabric of that cheap t-shirt she worse, lie to my face and say you didn’t like how her hard nipples tried to break free harder than myself when I was imprisonded for political reasons. Tell me, man, and I’ll tell you you’re a fucking liar. I can see your cock getting hard in those boxers, which you should probably change more frequently than once a month, I bet a thousand Reichsmark you want to fuck her tight pussy. Don’t lie to me.”
He had a point, I had to admit. Damn, now I knew why so many people followed him, he was clearly good at convincing others with his words…
“You want to explore her cracks, the one in the front and the one in the rear, you want to make some sweet Blitzkrieg to her fuckholes, you want to” – “Alright, fuck, stop it man. You’re right. I want to fuck her, I’d love to fuck her. But there’s no way I’ll ever do it, so thanks for your advice, but you can’t help me here, she would never agree to fuck me, not to mention that it’s illegal…”
“Illegal? Heh. Did it being illegal to carry out a coup ever stop me? Nein, mein Herr, it didn’t!”
“Erm, didn’t your coup fail?”
“That’s besides the point. Your conquering of your sister’s cunt won’t fail, and don’t worry about convincing her, I can help you with that. I’m not too bad at it.”
He had convinced me. “Alright Hitler, but how do we do it?”
“Go into her room, now. No, don’t put on pants or anything, go as you are. I’ll tell you what to do once you’re in there. Say you want to talk with her about some bullshit like fashion or fascism or whatever you kids like talking about these days.”
So I followed Hitler’s advice (what could go wrong, right?) and went to my sister’s door. I knocked, and her sweet annoyed voice exclaimed “What is it?”. I replied: “Emily, can I talk to you for a second?” “About what?” “Uhhh…stuff.” I saw Hitler rolling his eyes: “Great topic dumbass.”, but my sweet, big sister opened the door. “Okay?” was the response her red lips formed and I couldn’t help but wonder how they’d look wrapped aroung my cock, which coincidentally began to get hard that very moment, and it certainly didn’t help seeing her soft, yet firm tits pressed agains the fabric of her shirt just a few inches away from my body, and just as I was about to lower my gaze to see what her panties were up to, Hitler’s voice reminded me: “Don’t just stand there like a french soldier, look her in the eyes and talk to her. Tell her how you feel, what’s the worst that can happen?”
Yeah, great advice, Hitler, I thought. What the fuck, why didn’t I think of this subtle way of initiating sex with her. Fuck fuck fuck I have to say something, I thought, so I said “uhh, I just wanted to say I’m sorry about what happened earlier…” “DOn’t worry, I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have yelled about it like that, I mean, I often wake up drunk too…” “Thanks for being so understanding sis, I, uh, really love you!” “Aww, I love my little bro too, come on, give your big sister a hug!”
I couldn’t believe it, this went really well, and I slowly began to hug her, our bodies began pressing against each other, I felt her breasts on my chest and my cock couldn’t help but getting harder than Kruppstahl, as Hitler would have put it, and as soon as there was no room for air between our bodies, as I was enjoying this great moment we were having, I heard his voice again: “Kiss her. Do it. Now, it’s the perfect moment for it”, the voice of the man who had been dictator of Germany from 1933 to 1945 told me, and I just felt he was right, for the first time in my life I though that Hitler was right about something, and I just had to follow his advice, it was not a conscious decision, it was something deeper, something animalistic that lead me to carry out his order, I was the German soldier on meth and he was my commander, and together we were about to conquer the front in front of me, and I just closed my eyes, positioned my mouth on hers, launched my tongue, the v2 rocket that was about to land in her mouth, and I let go, I kissed my sister, and after a few second, I felt something unexpected: she let it happen.
I opened my eyes and saw us kissing each other, and I saw her having her eyes closed, and I saw the passion, the lust for the forbidden fruit expressed on the face of my big sister, it was as if every inch of her body screamed “I want you!”, and my body was the echo of this scream, and finally, after what seemed like a Thousand-Year Reich of kissing each other, we let go, she looked in my eyes and said “Oh yes, I want you. I want to have sex with you. I want you to fuck me, and I know I’ll enjoy it becuase this is what I’ve waited so long for. So take me, please. I need your cock and I won’t settle for anything less.”
And mere seconds later, she drew me into her room, on her soft bed, she got rid of her shirt and her panties, and I saw her body in all its glory, I saw the soft bumps of her tits, I saw the hard, pointy, pink nipples, I saw her incredible pussy between her long legs, I saw her blonde pubic hair, and I wanted to count and kiss every single one of the hairs surrounding her sweet hole; and she pulled down my boxer shorts, and she began playing with my cock. “My oh my, what a sweet penis you have little brother…mind if I play with it a bit?” Without waiting for an answer, she started stroking it until it was hard as a rock, then she slowly began to put her red lips around it, she swallowed its length until her nose touched my stomach, and her chin touched my balls, and she sucked harder than a Dyson DC23 vacuum cleaner, which is quite hard since that model uses the improved Root Cyclone & Core Separator technology, which marks yet another innovation in the long list of innovations that sets Dyson apart from its competitors, and my sister sucked all the harder until she stopped.
“I want you to fuck my pussy.”, whispering these poetic words she climbed on top of me, slowly guided my hard cock into her sweet fuckhole, and we slowly began to fuck. My cock slid in and out of her wet pussy, and Hitler, who I had almost forgotten about, loudly told me to “fuck that aryan pussy”, and I gladly followed his advice.
We fucked like there was no tomorrow, her moans indicated she was near climax, and I felt the sperm coming out too, and so we both came, marking the end of our intercourse for now; exhausted, our sweaty bodies fell on her bed, her body on top of mine, and I never wanted to let her go. I wanted to lie there forever, her amazing hot body on mine. Unfortunately, this eternity only lasted for a few minutes, until she had to get up to work.
We exchanged kisses, and she told me to “wait until I’m back, round two will happen tonight!”
And then she was gone, and I couldn’t wait until she came back.
“You know what’s funny?” the now familiar voice of one of the greated mass murderers in history said, “Immanuel Kant’s last name is pronounced like the english word ‘cunt’. Ever since I first heard that, I couldn’t help but chuckle whenever I read about one of his positions. I mean, why should I take the ethical position of someone whose name sounds like ‘cunt’ seriously? Am I right?”
“Oh Hitler”, I said, “how could I ever thank you? You’ve done so much for me. I will follow your advice on changing my diet and cleaning my room. Thank you. Why did you did all of this for me?”
“Mark, I didn’t do anything. You did all of this yourself. You just have to believe in yourself, then you can do anything you want. You can change your life. You can even change the world! Don’t you ever forget this. My work here is done, I will leave you now.”
“No! Don’t go!”
“I have to. The world needs me, there are thousands of guys like you, waiting for me to help them.”
“I will never forget you! Goodbye”
“Heil!”, the man responsible for the Holocaust said in an almost melancholic voice, as if he had done this countless times before, for countless other guys, and deep in my heart, I knew this was true.
The ghost of Adolf Hitler changed my life, he helped me become a better person, and he helped me fuck my sister. Sometimes I imagine that I will see him again, I imagine he will visit me in the last moments of my life, to say goodbye one last time.
Until this happens, I’ll follow his advice.
I’ll be the change I want to see in the world, and nothing can stop me but myself!
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/gl0ewt/how_the_ghost_of_adolf_hitler_helped_me_become_a
Ok wtf?