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Joseph Stalin knew a storm was coming. It was obvious that Germany was planning to invade the Soviet Union. Europe was going to plunge into war once again, and for that he had to be ready. All he could do now was set Germany and the Western powers against one another and buy some time for his army to prepare. If that meant making a deal with the devil, then so be it.
The coming war was to be a gruesome affair. Joseph saw visions of it in his sleep, of carnage and death and atrocities untold and unheard of in human history. Along with that he saw a vision of a future where the Soviet people were safe, the territory of the motherland expanded, despite the horrors endured. He knew the people of his motherland would survive. They would fight back the Teutonic onslaught just as Alexander Nevsky did so long ago.
Germany and the Soviets had been in talks for months now, with various economic agreements hashed out in preparation for a formal treaty. A deal with the devil it certainly was, and beyond that Joseph had entered into another unholy compact. For he saw visions of not just the coming war but of worlds beyond his own, of planets and stars incomprehensibly far away from his own in Moscow. German foreign minister Joachim von Ribbentrop was to arrive at the Kremlin in the morning, but for now Joseph descended down a secret stairwell in the Kremlin, into a hidden dungeon which held the object of his other compact.
A bestial man with pale gray skin that hung taut on his gaunt face and a flowing white beard was chained to the stone wall, arms outstretched as he groaned in pain. The man was an ancient and powerful creature, one Joseph knew well from stories told among the peasantry. Koschei the Deathless, chained before him and answering to his command.
Radiating from Koschei was a spectral energy that Joseph could feel in his heart. Faint echoes of glitter and light filled his eyes, the colors of the rainbow twisted into dark shades by the chains holding Koschei in place.
The creature groaned. “Let me go. Let me go…”
Joseph kept his face still, his demeanor calm, as always. “I require more of your power.”
“You are headed on the path of ruin,” Koschei said. “You and all of your faces shall die!”
The beast often said peculiar things such as this. Riddles, proverbs of unknown origin, foolish wisdom. By now, however, Joseph had an idea of what this referred to.
“I am me,” Joseph said, pointing to his heart. “Are there more of me, out there, in worlds beyond my own?”
Koscehi simply wailed, a wretched and bloodcurdling sound. It confirmed Joseph’s hypothesis however. In his dreams he had seen other versions of him who lived lives unfamiliar to him. One in which he had been raised in America, and became a leader of a different communist state across the Atlantic. Another in which he lived as a fugitive from a repressive Tsarist government. Another still in which he was an Omega. The latter made him shudder.
Joseph was steel. Undefeatable. These visions of a multiverse beyond suggested to him that this ‘ruin’ Koschei spoke of was grander than simply his motherland. Joseph was determined to stay on top. If there were other worlds out there he would be the greatest Joseph Stalin of all, forever steel and forever unbroken. To this end he would do anything, absolutely anything.
Joseph drew a scalpel from his jacket, and sliced a slow and clean gash along Koschei’s neck. The beast barely reacted, simply continuing his low moan of pain. Joseph gathered the blood on his hands and lapped it up, feeling the ancient power of the Deathless flow through him.
He smiled, lips stained black with inhuman blood.
Vyacheslav Molotov did his best to prepare himself for the coming meeting. He checked his tie in the mirror once, twice, three times, combed his mustache and hair to an unnecessary degree. No matter how secure his position was under General Secretary Stalin Vyacheslav could not help but worry. He was an anxious man, a fact not helped by the paranoia overtaking the Union with war on the horizon. Vyacheslav himself had cemented his standing through purges and power grabs, had stood by his beloved Koba through all of it.
Vyacheslav had nothing to worry about, he reassured himself. General Secretary Stalin was his dear friend, dearer than anyone, his Koba, and would never betray him. He was especially aware of his status as an Alpha, which he knew would protect him. He had happily nested his own Omega Polina, and thus his rank was secure. The party officially condemned discrimination on the basis of secondary gender, but Vyacheslav was aware as always that the reality was more complex. Others such as Leon Trotsky and Sergei Kirov had suffered unkindly fates, and the two of them being Omegas was no doubt a factor in this. As of now the only prominent Omega in the Soviet government was Grigory Zhukov, and the highest ranking Beta was Lazar Kaganovich. Other than them the top ranks were entirely Alphas. Naturally Vyacheslav cared only about his own power, and this fact did not disturb him.
As the proceedings began, Vyacheslav sat next to Joseph with the German diplomats across from them. The conversation began with vigor. They discussed the prior agreements, as well as the current situation in Europe.
“I am concerned that our nation may face encroachment from all sides,” Joseph said.
Joachim chuckled. “You have nothing to fear from us. The Anti-Comintern Pact was created to defend against Britain and France. Berliners often joke that the Soviets will soon join it.”
Vyacheslav grimaced. A bold faced lie, certainly. The Soviets would never join such a pact, not when they were the leaders of the Comintern. Still, he had to play ball. The safety of his motherland depended on it.
“In order to secure this deal, we need an assurance that our sphere of influence will be respected.” Vyacheslav pulled out a map, and the two diplomats drew lines across eastern Europe. Much of Poland as well as Lithuania, Estonia, and Latvia were firmly behind Soviet lines. The rest of Poland went to Germany. Vyacheslav shuddered to think of what fate would befall those who lived in the land given to Hitler. Still, they had no other choice, and securing the Baltic Sea as well as reclaiming the parts of Ukraine and Belarus taken from the Soviets in 1921 was worth the trade off.
Joachim and Vyacheslav signed the treaty, and the pact was formed. Both knew it was not going to last, but what else was to be done? Now the Red Army could prepare.
Joseph was proud of Vyacheslav for his efforts. Vyacheslav relished in his affection. His general secretary, his Koba, Joseph was everything to him.
“Koba, you are too kind,” Vyacheslav said.
“Nonsense. I would be nowhere without you, comrade. You are my dearest friend.” Joseph gave him a chaste hug, just an arm on Vyacheslav’s shoulder. For Vyacheslav it was overwhelming. Joseph was a quiet and reserved man, and displays of affection like this were not his style.
“You are special to me, Slava,” Joseph said. “I want to show you how special. Will you spend the night with me?”
Spend the night? What did Joseph mean by that? Surely nothing illegal, Vyacheslav hoped. Sexual relations between Alphas were prohibited by the Soviet constitution.
Vyacheslav accepted, and he joined Joseph in his residence at the Kuntsevo Dacha. They walked to Joseph’s bedroom, largely ignoring the others in the dacha, though Vyacheslav did briefly greet Svetlana. Joseph stated it was so they could read together, but the way the man looked at Vyacheslav suggested otherwise. Vyacheslav felt nervousness consume him, an icy feeling that ate away at the pit of his stomach. But if Joseph wanted him to break the law, he would. He would do whatever Joseph wanted, for he feared what fate would befall him otherwise.
As Joseph shut the door to his bedroom, Vyacheslav turned to face him. Joseph suddenly locked the door, a soft smile on his face. Joseph looked friendly and inviting, his light smile contrasted the steel that burned within him. Vyacheslav didn’t know how to react.
“Locking the door?” he said. “Why?”
“Lay down on the bed,” Joseph said.
“Comrade?”
Joseph’s eyebrow twitched. “Is there a problem?”
“No. No, comrade,” Vyacheslav murmured. Joseph took the comrade as a sign of submission. He stood by Vyacheslav as the younger man laid on his back. Joseph petted his cheek. “You are beautiful, Slava. I would wed you if I could. You would please me even better than Nadezhda did.”
Vyacheslav paled. Being compared to Joseph’s old Omega wife was humiliating. She had been a lovely woman, cerainly, but Vyacheslav never wished to be as low as her, as vulnerable. He feared to think what Joseph meant by that.
A spark went off in his mind. Something about this was wrong. He moved to sit up from the bed, trying to sound casual, “I recall I have business to attend to. While I appreciate this invitation, Koba, signing the pact has left me with a great deal of work and I really ought to-”
Joseph grabbed him by the shoulder, shoving him back down, cold and firm. In a more delicate manner he shushed Vyacheslav with a finger on his lips. “I love you, Slava. Don’t you love me too?”
“I do love you, comrade. But I really must be going.”
Joseph frowned. Comrade. Vyacheslav had intended to return to formality, rather than whatever this was, but Joseph seemed upset. He felt his teeth chatter, the hints of tears at his eyes. He was terrified. There was much to be scared of, with the state of the world, but true fear was something he had not felt in a long time. Being by Joseph’s side kept him safe. Joseph was solid, something to lean on, a metallic sign of security.
Now this security was gone, at the hands of the same man who had given it.
“You are not going anywhere,” Joseph snarled. He kissed Vyacheslav and the younger man yelped. Joseph held him down with superhuman strength. Vyacheslav thrashed and moaned but it was no use. Joseph bit him and sucked on his tongue. Vyacheslav coughed as black blood flowed from Joseph’s lips, a poison that went straight to his heart. He couldn’t tell the effects. His stomach felt odd, squirly, like something was growing within him. Joseph grinned, eyes red and wild.
“Slava, my sweet.” Joseph pet his hair. “You will be perfect for me. My mate. We will wed and you will carry my pups. Understood?”
Vyacheslav cried, “It’s not possible. I can’t be what you want, Koba, I’m sorry! Please, stop this. We are men, comrades, fellow Alphas. This is highly improper!”
Joseph just grunted, disappointed. He didn’t even acknowledge the other man’s words. Instead he drew a black and rusted sword from under his bed. The blood in Vyacheslav’s gut had him frozen, unable to move except for weak jerks and thrashes. Joseph bit at his wrist and a tide of black blood flowed out. He poured it over the sword and the ancient rusted metal grew pristine, shiny in the light of the moon. The blade sharpened with unnatural magic, reborn from the throes of decay.
“Koba!” Vyacheslav’s cry was the last sound he made before Joseph plunged the sword into his heart. From then on it was nothing but pained screams and wails as Joseph cut open his chest and stomach. He pulled out Vyacheslav’s intestines and the tissue of his muscles, dicing them into bits with planned precision. He cut open Vyacheslav’s arms and throat, pulling out flesh and arranging it around the man. Vyacheslav felt his life quickly float away as Joseph carved him into pieces. Pain engulfed him, searing heat that overcame all other thoughts and emotions in his mind. Still his soul clung to the remains. Koschei’s magic did not allow him to fully die, and the pain continued unabated even as he lost his life.
Joseph diced his body into miniscule bits. Vyacheslav’s screams echoed throughout the dacha and the other inhabitants covered their ears and prayed it was anything other than the reality. The bits of his flesh were arranged in a circle across Joseph’s bed, an incantation wrought from blood and bones. Joseph placed it all carefully with demonic artistry. Then, he poured a bowl of clear blue water over the remains. It was the Water of Life, stitching Vyacheslav back to life just as Prince Ivan had done to his betrothed in the days of yore.
Joseph guided the body parts and remains to their proper places, locking them together with magic likes pieces of a puzzle. He murmured in a lost language, magical instructions that flowed into Vyacheslav as his soul returned to his body. Like this Joseph had control over how he reformed. Vyacheslav was rebuilt in pristine condition, just as healthy as before, with one key difference.
He was now an Omega.
Vyacheslav gasped as his body finished reforming. His brow was covered with sweat, and his body still contorted from the pain of the death he just endured. Then, a new pain encompassed him. He felt himself grow hot, his cock hardened. Slick pooled in his underwear, pouring out of his asshole. He was gripped by an vicious, unrelenting need, one that tore at him and made him shiver despite the heat.
“No.” Vyacheslav clawed at his face, a violent prayer to the lord to kill him once again. “No, no, no,” he moaned.
“Shhh…” Joseph comforted him. He guided Vyacheslav to lie on his stomach, and removed the younger man’s clothes as he rubbed his back. “You are presenting. It is your first heat, a signal your body is ready to bear my children. How does it feel?”
Vyacheslav just cried. Tears stained his face and wetted the pillow below him. Still he obeyed Joseph’s commands, arching his back and baring his slick-covered hole. Joseph fucked him gently, pushing in slowly and thrusting just as carefully. He was sweet, tender, and his cock felt amazing inside him. Joseph was gentle but his grip was firm, possessive. As his mate Vyacheslav would be treated with care, a prized and honored possession. Vyacheslav felt his body orgasm from the intense pleasure, satiated from the all-consuming need he felt just earlier. He continued to beg no, no, no, stop but Joseph didn’t listen, his cock continued to pleasure Vyacheslav despite the younger man’s protests.
When Joseph came inside him he showed true dominance. Joseph bent down and grabbed his throat gently, then choked him hard and rough as he filled Vyacheslav with cum. He pulled out carefully. Vyacheslav lay on the bed and shook, not with pain but with pleasure. It felt so good to quench his body’s thirst. He was finally free of the need to mate that had accompanied his heat.
He looked up at up Joseph and said, “More, Koba. Please!”
No more protest. No more denial.
Joseph smiled.