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Introduction:

In a little Soviet town, far to the east of Moscow...

“What the fuck?!”
Looking back, Johnny Chinskinski stopped humping his Algebra I teacher, completely frozen as his principal stared at them with his jaw hanging to the floor.
‘Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit…’ was all Ms. Hempenov could think to herself. Her mind was on repeat; she could not even begin to fathom what was happening at this point. Without even looking, she knew who walked in- the only person in the school with the key to her room- Principal Heinrich. Besides him having the master key, she could tell it was him by his oddly high-pitched voice. At 6’6 and around 350 pounds with a bald-topped comb over, Henrick would have been the last person anyone would have expected to have a voice similar to that of Bart Simpson. Ms. Hempenov knew she should explain the situation and make up some lousy excuse but the words just couldn’t come out and considering the position she was in (no pun intended) she really was, for one of the few times in her life, at a loss for words. With the upper half of her body hunched over her desk whilst taking it from behind by her 14-year-old prepubescent student, defending herself at this point seemed next to futile. Most of the clothes were thrown recklessly around the room and she didn’t even now where to start looking for her pink, frilly Vladimira’s Secret G-string.
Ms. Hempenov noticed two things occur almost instantly- and had it been other circumstances, it could have been almost deemed comical. For one, Johnny’s erect penis had shriveled away to the point of next to nothing (which isn’t to say that it was anything in the first place). Two, the tent in Principal Heinrich’s brown khakis was probably the reason he hadn’t said anything since “What the fuck?!” around 30 seconds ago. His mind was evidently more focused on the visual display in front of him than the situation itself. Finally, there was a second to defend herself… if you can call it that.
“I can explain!” Ms. Hempenov finally announced, getting up from her desk and thereby removing the soft penis out of her own nether regions. ‘Uhhhh…’ her mind desperately searched for an excuse. Her subconscious finally kicked in—during her lunch break, Ms. Hempenov had been reading People of the Soviet State Weekly, a gossip magazine touting all of Russia’s hottest politically-extreme-left celebs. In this issue, Ivana Yankovich had announced that the reason she had declared, privately in her own home, that she would love to live in America, was that she had been drinking far too much vodka. And so, Ms. Hempenov sputtered, “I’m an alcoholic!” putting her hands over her exposed parts. Ms. Hempenov didn’t know exactly why she chose this reasoning. Had she been exposed to any of even the most basic Western psychology studies, the answer would have been obvious, right then as there, as clear as the principal’s boner.
The situation as a whole still seemed like a story out of a movie or book. Eva Hempenov, the hottest, blondest, bustiest teacher at Nikita Khrushchev High School was fornicating the awkward, short, skinny and not to mention now-shriveled Johnny Chinskinski.

*First Person
“Ohmigod, ohmigod,” I started hyperventilating. Getting expelled would be the end of me- what would Mama do? I know Papa will beat me, but if I lose Mama, I don’t know what I’ll do! I looked at my teacher and principal. She looked at me with kind eyes, fueled with terror, assuring me that nothing would be ok. Principal Heinrich, on the other hand, still hadn’t stopped looking at my teacher’s body. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of her. I knew what he was thinking. I could see it in his eyebrows; he didn’t have to say one word but I knew it was coming…
“So…” he finally spoke up. “What do we have here? An alcoholic teacher possibly giving out good grades for sexual relations and an underage… child, in violation of his student conduct codes.” He still hadn’t removed his eyes from her body and the tent in his pants hadn’t subsided in the slightest bit.
*Third Person
“I’m sorry, Heinrich, please don’t call the police!” Ms. Hempenov started to tear up, seeing her world fall apart in front of her very eyes. “I’ll do anything. Anything.” It was a look of defeat. She was up shit crick without a paddle, and knew the boner could be leverage against years behind bars, on top of a potential military tribunal court, in the event that Heinrich should decide to create any false allegations.
“Get OUT! Of my fucking SCHOOL!” Principal Heinrich finally stared down Johnny, taking his gaze off the teacher, his face transforming from zombified lust to intense hatred. Johnny didn’t need to be told twice. He frantically looked around for his clothes, unfortunately only finding a sock at first, which he used as a makeshift tube sock that promptly fell off of his little penis. His skimpy tighty whities had been his first priority, but after finding everything but them- a pair of blue jeans that were two sizes too small for him, a dark green Power Russian Rangers t-shirt, a pair of black boots and the remaining sock, Johnny thought to himself that it would be best if they were left to the janitor. He got dressed at made his way to the door. The principal was obviously not done with his teacher. While getting dressed, Johnny had been wondering what would happen to his teacher. He started opening the door and heard a faint whisper. “Move your hands to your side, Eva.” Johnny’s Algebra I teacher started sobbing desperately, knowing that her instincts had now come into fruition. A strong wave of guilt came over Johnny, knowing that she was going to be man-handled by such a disgusting pig-bodied, disgusting glob, without any choice in the matter.
‘What do I do?’ Johnny thought to himself. His mind was in a haze. Knowing there was nothing he could say that would dehypnotize the man, he started walking through the exit. Looking back, he saw Principal Heinrich already grabbing his teacher’s large breasts. The man was entranced by the beautiful Ms. Hempenov, and he was not paying attention to anything else. Johnny suddenly noticed the brass Josef Stalin statue on top of the bookshelf to his right. He no longer needed to think. His actions were entirely based off of animalistic instinct at this point. Although Johnny had never even pondered the idea before, he now knew that he was in love. However, at this point, with his disgusting principal now taking off his black long coat and putting it on a desk, Johnny was overwhelmed with burning hatred. Eva Hempenov was his woman and he was by no means going to let such a fat piece of der’mo (shit) have his way with the woman he lost his only virginity to.
Johnny slowly crept up with the 10-pound statue, holding it with both of his hands. ‘Mother fucker,’ he said under his breath, was loud enough for Principal Heinrich to hear but his focus, as it had been since the start, was on the teacher. Forcing Ms. Hempanov over the desk, Heinrich undid his khakis and boxer briefs. He was just about to stick where many had gone before, when Johnny came up behind the principal dragging one of the classroom chairs, stepped up, raised his arms, slowly due to the weight of the statue, and proceeded to strike the center of his comb over.
CLOP!
Principal Heinrich instantly dropped to the floor, dazed, staring upside-down at the young boy who had hit him while holding his hands over the back of his head.
BAM!
Another hit, this one square in the nose. The blood came rushing out of the abnormally large schnoz. Principal Heinrich started screaming, rolling along the floor back and forth like a dying, squealing animal. With all of his might, Johnny Chinskinski delivered a final blow to the man’s right temple.
BAM!
Principal Heinrich stopped moving, the blood now flowing from three locations on his gigantic head. Johnny could barely comprehend what was happening–life, while it had went on for the past ten seconds, seemed to replay over and over in his mind from the second he stopped smashing Principal Heinrich’s head in. It was all in abnormally slow motion. The action seemed to affect Johnny’s brain as well, as for about a five minutes, Johnny would simply stare down at his slain foe, and then at his teacher’s breasts, and then back to Heinrich and then back toward Eva, and it was such a shock that when he would look back at Heinrich, he would again attain an erect penis, and then when he would look at Eva, he would lose it.
When he finally gained composure, she was staring back at him, wide-eyed. It wasn’t a look that said, “What the fuck did you just do?” but rather “I love you and want you now.” Johnny instantly dropped the Stalin Statue back onto Principal Heinrich’s nose and embraced Ms. Hempenov, kissing her passionately and grabbing her large, firm buttocks. She bussed back and instantly forgot about the the dead body that lied slain on the floor not three feet from her toes, thinking Johnny Chinskinski now as not just the afterschool fuck she had once used him for, but as her man – her protector.
“Let’s blow this popsicle stand,” he said to her, removing a pair of aviators from Heinrich’s coat pocket and putting them on. Along with this, he helped himself to a cigarette out from Ms. Hempenov’s purse and lit it up. Coughing as he took his first-ever puff and looking at her square in the eyes, he told her “We’re going to Vegas,” and started walking towards the door.

Chapter 2
“Hey, uh, Johnny?”
“Yeah babe?"
“…well, as cool as that sounded, I think we should take a plan B.”
“The mother fucker came in you?!” Johnny was livid, and before Ms. Hempenov could explain that he had indeed not even entered her vagina, Johnny was right back at Principal Heinrich’s dead body, kicking his face in some more and spitting on him.
“Johnny…. Johnny… JOHNNY!” The young boy turned around finally, mid kick-swing, at his smiling teacher. “Johnny. He did not cum in me. Now help me wipe off your saliva and his penis with ammonia. We need there to be no traceable DNA evidence. Now—as I was saying, we need a plan B WHICH MEANS that we cannot go to Vegas right now. It’s a bit unrealistic. We live in the USSR.”
“Right.”



Author Notes:

Don't ask what I was smoking.

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