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Message-ID: <48381asstr$1088979001@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Russell Hoisington" <hoisingr@hushmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Yana and the Three Professors {Hoisington} (MF humor)
Lines: 300
Date: Sun,  4 Jul 2004 18:10:02 -0400
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                  YANA AND THE THREE PROFESSORS
                        Russell Hoisington

This is an erotic fantasy.  The characters and the situation are
purely imaginary, and this story is NOT intended to be a guide
for actual behavior.  Any similarities between this story and
actual people, or between this story and actual events that you
should be ashamed of, are purely coincidental.  If it is illegal
for you to access and read erotic fiction, or if you don't like
sex stories, then stop now.

This story is copyright 2004 by Russell Hoisington.  You may post
freely to non-commercial (free) sites, or in the "free" area of
commercial sites.  Please do not remove the author information or
make any changes to this story.  That does NOT mean that it is in
the public domain, nor does it mean that I give permission for
you to use it in spam advertising.  I reserve the right to
determine what is "spam advertising" by MY definition, not yours
or anyone else's.

Thank you for your consideration.

                               ***
Once upon a time, in the days of the now-dissolved Evil Empire,
the Soviet Government told a very lovely and intelligent blonde
high school valedictorian named Yana that she wanted to work in
the nuclear industry.  She wisely chose studying for seven years
to become a nuclear scientist at the Josef Stalin Institute for
Blowing Things Up in Tblisi, Georgia, over becoming a 
pick-and-shovel miner for uranium ore in the Novosibirskiye Islands
north of the Arctic Circle where there is no uranium.

Despite an unfortunate setback while she was working on her
neutron bomb graduation project, Yana graduated at the top of her
class.  She and her new boyfriend, Batschka, were told they had
volunteered for transfer to Minsk and to the most glorious secret
research facility in all of the Soviet Union.  At the facility,
code-named the Donald Duck Animation Rotoscoping Projects
Activity (DDARPA) to fool the American CIA, she had another
unfortunate accident in the weapons miniaturization program that
caused her to shrink.  Fortunately, the greatest physician in all
of the Soviet Union was able to reverse her shrinkage.

A few months later, as Batschka was vigorously thrusting his
manly process into her shaved babushka, she giggled and
exclaimed, "Batschi!  Am noticing my eyes are now even with yours
again!  Am thinking height has now returned to normal."

"Is likely so," grunted Batschka, peering into the depths of her
OCHI CHORNYA, her dark eyes, as his invading Cossack reciprocated
within her like a Lipetsk tractor's piston in its cylinder.  "Am
noticing glorious shaved babushka no longer squeezes as tightly
as when you were smaller."

Yana's pretty face scrunched into a look of loving concern.  "Oh,
Batschi!  Am so sorry.  Will start Kegelski exercises
immediately."

"Is not immediate problem, my little potato beetle.  Is tight
enough for now.  Am about to detonate massive warhead in your
glorious target.  Unh.  UNNNNH!   AAAAAAAAAAAA!  OH, COMRADE
LENIN!!!"

His release triggered her own intense, satisfying climax. 
Afterward he lay atop her, his Cossack invader occupying her
conquered territory.

Yana crossed her alabaster legs over his back and wiped sweat
from his handsome brow with her dainty fingers.  She smiled to
ease the question.  "Batschi, am noticing distractions in your
thoughts.  Is being something wrong?"

He gave one of her shapely buttocks a gentle squeeze.  "Nyet, my
little dung beetle.  Am just pondering imponderable question by
Comrade Director Makoyev on how to increase range of glorious
intercontinental missiles built only for defensive purposes
against imperialist aggressors.  Am unable to come up with
solution, unless answer is to put Viagra in rocket fuel to keep
missile up longer."

They laughed at the thought and then laughed again at the
realization that Viagra had yet to be invented, causing her
shaved babushka to squeeze his invading Cossack repeatedly in a
stimulating and delightful manner.  Then her face grew serious.

"Comrade Director has given me imponderable question, too,
Batschi.  Must be coming up with way to target weapons so they
attack misguided enemies of glorious Soviet Union but not
friends.  Comrade Rubbinov suggests speaking to Comrade
Professors Briss, Mogen, and Mohel at Hebrew University for Jews
Who Have Voluntarily Defected to Communism Or Else in Omsk."

"Jews?"  Concern creased his face.  "My little wheat smut, you
are knowing how Party feels about persons of Jewish faith.  Is
great danger to your career to be associating with them."

"Batschi!  Is greater danger to career if I am not solving
problems given me!  Comrade Director Makoyev rightfully demands
results.  Is my patriotic responsibility to pursue all avenues
available.  Besides, Professors are Communist Jews.  Have
voluntarily defected to our side."

"Or else," Batschka muttered under his breath.

"Please to excuse me?"

"Nothing," said Batschka, suddenly aware that someone might be
listening through the secret microphone hidden in the ceiling
light where nobody could find it.  "Was just clearing throat."

                                *

Comrade Director Makoyev rarely visited Batschka in his
laboratory.  Batschka fretted nervously from the time he was told
the Director was enroute until the man strode in and gave him a
hearty handshake.  "Comrade Batschka!" the Director said in a
booming voice while smiling broadly like a hungry crocodile. 
"Have been struck with excellent idea.  Directorate wishes you to
pursue possibility of mixing something called Viagra into rocket
fuels to keep glorious intercontinental missiles built only for
defensive purposes against imperialist aggressors up longer." 
The Director's smile slowly faded while he stared into Batschka's
eyes and waited for a response.

Batschka finally blinked.  Twice.  "Uh, da!  DA!  Is good idea,
Comrade Director.  Will be putting team to work immediately.  Um,
are you having other excellent ideas today?"

The smile returned.  "None for you, Comrade Batschka, but have
glorious idea for lovely girlfriend.  Am regretful to announce
you will be sleeping alone for rest of week."  He threw an arm
across Batschka's shoulders and said in a low, conspiratorial
voice, "Would suggest taking advantage of opportunity to sample
other delights in Directorate, but you are already sampling best
in whole damned organization, da?  Am very sorry for your libido,
but have already sent Comrade Yana on flight to Western Siberia,
specifically to Hebrew University for Jews Who Have Voluntarily
Defected to Communism Or Else in Omsk, to consult with three
professors on problem of targeting misguided enemies of glorious
Soviet Union but not friends."

"Ah!"  said Batschka, a false smile keeping his true feelings
from his face.  "Is good idea."

The Director nodded and smiled.  "Was knowing you would approve,
Comrade Batschka."

                                *

"And that, in nutshell, is problem, Comrade Professors," Yana
concluded.  Her posture sagged slightly as she lifted her small,
slender hands in a gesture of resignation and let them drop back
to the glass top of the conference table.  She took a deep
breath, trying to avoid gagging on the sulfurous fumes from the
nearby refinery of low-grade crude oil.  "Am having no ideas, but
was told by good friend you might help, being three most
brilliant men not only in Hebrew University for Jews Who Have
Voluntarily Defected to Communism Or Else in Omsk, but in all of
Soviet Union east of Ural Mountains."

The three wise men, mouths slightly agape, continued to stare
unblinking through the glass at the firm, shapely white thighs
exposed by the red mini-skirt that the Comrade Director suggested
she wear for the meeting.

"Comrade Professors?"

Their eyes rose to her face, though they had some difficulty
climbing over the twin hills in her low-cut red blouse.  As one
they cleared their throats and looked nervously at each other and
at her.

"Is problem, Comrade Professors?"

"Well...," said Professor Briss while looking apologetic.

"Um...," said Professor Mogen while looking nervous.

"Oy vey!" said Professor Mohel while looking at her delectable
cleavage.

When they said nothing more she said, "Am under instructions of
Comrade Director Makoyev to offer special reward if you can solve
problem."

The three again stared at each other before Professor Mohel
looked at her and asked, "Vhat is being der nature of 'special
reward,' Comrade Yana?"

She shrugged her shoulders upward, then raised and spread her
forearms with her palms turned upward.  Her neckline drooped and
revealed more delectable cleavage.  "Gangbang."

The three men sat erect in their chairs, eyes wide.

"Well," said Professor Briss, "am not wanting I should to stand
on ceremony...."

"Um," interrupted Professor Mogen, "to put clamp on
situation...."

"Oy vey!" interrupted Professor Mohel. "Am being der von in
charge here.  Cutting to der issue at hand, mein own
responsibility ist being, nu?"

The other two men sat back and lowered their eyes, not out of
deference but to study her charms while the man in charge kept
her dark eyes on his.

Professor Mohel gave her a weak apologetic smile and continued. 
"Vithout precedent your situation ist not.  Vhat you need, ist
possible I should tell you.  You are, I should hope, being
familiar vith der biblical history...."

"FAIRY TALE!" interrupted Professor Briss sharply, lifting his
eyes to indicate the secret microphone hidden in the ceiling
light where nobody could find it.

"Fairy tale," agreed Professor Mogen in a quieter tone, shifting
his eyes sideways to indicate the camera nobody knew was located
behind the secret one-way mirror at the end of the room.

"Daaaa," drawled Professor Mohel slowly while nodding his head in
thanks to his compatriots.  "Fairy tale.  Ist good der error you
should correct of tired man who should regretfully speak in
misguided terms from days before glorious enlightenment."  He
turned his attention to the blonde beauty who now held a small
notebook and pen in her porcelain hands.  "Comrade Yana, familiar
you are being vith MYTHICAL FAIRY TALE," he paused a heartbeat
for emphasis, "of twelve plagues Comrade Moses on der despotic
Pharaoh of Egypt imposed for failure to follow tenets of
Communism?"

Yana's pretty face puckered in brief concentration.  "Da!  Have
heard of same."

Tension drained from Professor Mohel when he realized he wouldn't
have to relate the story in a manner acceptable to the men
responsible for the secret microphones and cameras hidden where
nobody could find them.  He smiled at her and felt a twitch in
his pants when she smiled back.  "Lamb's blood over der doorvay? 
Ha!  Merely stage dressing it vas!  Decoy for confusing der
imperialist Egyptian slavemasters und der truth to keep secret
from der tyrannical Pharaoh.  Der ancient Jews ein secret 
long-range detection and targeting system had.  Built into der
veapon called der 'Hand of God' it vas.  Der system it vas possible
somehow to set to be ignoring der friends but killing der
enemies."

He paused, inhaled, and shook his head.  "But how der system
vorked?  Ach, even a clue ve don't have.  Dat ve can determine
only by examining der 'Hand of God.'"

Yana looked up from inscribing notes.  "Where is 'Hand of God'
being located?"

As one the three men shrugged and as one said, "Oy vey." 
Professor Mohel continued, "Der veapon system Comrade Moses had
der ancient Jews take along on der Exodus out from Egypt.  Vhen,
according to der MYTHICAL FAIRY TALE," he again pause a
heartbeat, "der Ten Commandments Comrade Moses should bring down
from der mountain, ordained he did dat der Tablets of God
belonged in der Hand of God.  Der tablets Comrade Moses placed in
der same and renamed it der "Ark of der Covenant."

Yana's beautiful eyes widened.  "You mean...."

"Da, Comrade Yana.  For your problem to solve, you should need
der radars of der lost Ark."

                               ***

Copyright Russell Hoisington 2004

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