Of Monsters and Men 2/2
Title: Of Monsters and Men 2/2
Characters: Hellstrom/OC
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: QT owns everything important. (in the fic, anyway)
Warnings: In this fic: Explicit themes, rape, implied non-con orgasm, violence, general heir of creeper.
Summary:Lila's life had been broken into two parts: before the occupation and after
Lila slept badly. Waking every few hours in fits and starts. When it was time to get up to start breakfast she was in foul temper. She snapped at the milk man and cursed over the breakfast cereals. Careful not to let on to any of the boarders that she was in bad spirits, she saved her distemper for the kitchen. If she had a cat, she thought, he would have scratched her eyes out by now.
When the last officer had cleaned the last plate, she set about clearing the dining room. She knew she dreamed in the night, she remembered some of it, but not enough to really piece together. Something about a baby crying?
“Good morning, Lila,” his voice cut through her thoughts and she cursed, dropping the knife she was soaping into the dishwater with a clatter.
“Major,” she muttered, clenching her teeth. She hadn’t cut herself, but only just.
“Didn’t we discuss my name last night,” he walked over to the sink, tossing a peach from one hand to the other. It came from the bowl in the front hall.
“My apologies, Dieter,” she jerked her chin at the peach, “you’ve missed breakfast again.”
“It’s becoming a habit,” he agreed, taking a bite of the fruit and quickly licking the broken skin to prevent it dripping down his uniform. “I trust you slept well?”
“Not at all,” she bit out. His smile told her he could tell as much. Lila knew she looked like death warmed over. “And you?”
“Like a baby,” he jerked his head at the percolator drying on the drainboard, “is there any coffee left?”
“No, but I’m happy to brew more,” her tone said she really wasn’t.
“I’ll wait,” he sauntered over to the farm table and sat down. “You know it’s probably a good thing you refrained from the party last night.”
“Oh?” She wanted to say something snide about how the caterers made a mess of her kitchen. A mess she was going to have to remedy today, but she didn’t. Instead she concentrated on the dishes. If he was willing to wait, then he could really wait. She was through with dropping everything at this major’s whim. “Why is that?”
She was only half listening, so intent on cleaning the morning’s dishes. “It wasn’t our typical soiree, you know. I’m afraid you would have been appalled at some of the behavior.” Lila made a noncommittal sound. “Actually, I was a bit shocked myself. As though these brave officers had never seen a willing woman before.”
“Sometimes men lose their heads,” Lila unstoppered the sink and let the dirty water swirl down the drain.
“Of course, it’s silly really,” he considered his nails, “we encourage our subordinates to follow the mandates but we rarely do so openly ourselves. Last night was…a chance to reignite the glory of the Reich, you might say.”
“Is that so?” Lila was still only half listening. She measured the coffee and set the percolator. “Didn’t you mention last night you wanted me there? You’ve changed your mind rather quickly, haven’t you?”
“So you are listening,” he made an appreciative sound in his throat. Lila rolled her eyes where he couldn’t see and then turned to face him, taking the chair opposite because he expected her to. “I did, you’re quite right. But after thoughtful consideration, I realized it was better that we talk privately, as we are now.”
“Oh?” It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him what was so special about the party the night before when he flashed her another of those dazzling, cocky smiles.
“I thought perhaps it would be better if we discussed the merits of making a child before we got down to business, don’t you agree?”
“I’m-what?” Lila’s body jerked. She must be more tired than she thought, there was no way she heard him correctly.
“You were right, you weren’t strictly invited to the party last night. Unfortunately, the women there were all specifically chosen, up until now you’ve escaped notice because of the service you do for us here, in the boarding house.”
There was a roaring in her ears and Lila heard a pulsing kindof drumbeat. After a moment she realized it was her heart. “I…what?”
“Part of being a good citizen,” he leaned forward, arm on the table, “a good soldier is doing whatever possible to further the glory of the Cause, don’t you agree?”
”I…suppose. Major-“
“Dieter, please,” he made a dashing motion with his hand and smiled apologetically, “Please, Lila. I wish you would call me Dieter.” And it was such a simple request, said so softly she almost believed he was sincere.
“Dieter,” Lila forced herself to take a deep breath. “Dieter I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“There is no better way to ensure the glory of the Third Reich than through children,” he recited, chuckling softly, “think of it, little girls become women who become mothers, little boys become men who become soldiers. Children born to parents like us, parents with desirable heritage are perfect specimens, they will exist long after we’re gone and they will have children of their own and so on down the line,” he touched the hand that was resting on the table and Lila flinched, “A little piece of perfection, molded to greatness.”
“You’re insane,” she murmured finally. Lila wondered on what grounds she could conceivably turn him out of the house without making the greater regime angry.
“No,” he sat back, his eyes shuttered, the enthusiasm hidden. “Just practical, this policy has been encouraged in Germany for some time now. Girls and women of childbearing age and desirable parentage are asked to do their duty to the war effort, married or no.”
“Who takes care of these children?”
“There are places of course,” he laughed, “we are an efficient, if not practical people. Perhaps you noticed.” He ran a hand through his hair and she realized he was nervous. “Soldiers in occupied countries that are presented with women who appear to match the criteria are asked to…sow their seed. We are like farmers, Lila, cultivating an important crop.”
“And this is what happened here last night,” the expression on his face didn’t change and Lila was filled with something like righteous indignation, “in my house!”
“It only remains your house because you have proven to be loyal,” he pointed out affably.
“Loyal.” Lila felt sick, “loyal.” She shook her head. The coffee was ready. For want of something to do she stood abruptly, walking purposely to the counter. He caught her wrist as she passed and held it. She finally looked back at him. His eyes were open, reverent. She thought he murmured her name, but she couldn’t be sure because he had her palm against his mouth. She disentangled herself as gently as she could without touching him.
He watched her back as she made the coffee. “It’s a golden opportunity for many, they’re taken care of, they see the best doctors,” he laughed, “if they want they can return to their old lives as though nothing happened. There are millions of loyal families who wish to have an additional perfect child.”
“What if they don’t wish to return home?” Lila couldn’t imagine giving a child away.
“They soon realize it’s better to do as they’re told. We know what's best in the end,” he considered the set of her shoulders, “the strong take care of the weak, remember?”
“Of course,” she splashed coffee onto the counter and left it because her mind was spinning. “I have no interest in marrying you, Dieter.” She placed the drink in front of him and he stared up at her quietly. If he was hurt or offended he didn’t show it.
“Certainly not,” he took a considering sip of the brew, “but you do not have to be married to have children, do you?”
“How can you even suggest this?” she cast around for the right words, “Don’t you see how, how-“
“Monstrous?”
“this is?” She fell back a step.
“Of course it would seem that way to you, Lila. You’re failing to see the bigger picture.” He took another sip of the coffee. “It’s very scientific, really.”
“But…bringing a child into the world shouldn’t be only about politics or science!”
“I agree,” he replaced the coffee cup on the saucer and stared up at her thoughtfully. “What would I have to do, I wonder…”
Lila cocked her head, her mind was clicking away too fast. She was a little afraid she would faint. “Do?”
“What would I have to do in order for you to see me as simply a man who happens to wear a uniform.”
“Oh,” Lila couldn’t take it anymore. Her screaming muscles, her mind screeching at her, the look in his eyes, she turned and ran from the kitchen. She knew he would follow, he wasn’t the type to give up without a fight. She heard the pounding of those boots on the floor behind her. She reached out blindly and pulled one of the dining room chairs down as she went, heard a crash as he fell over it, ignored his angry curses. She skidded in the front hall and slammed into the entry table, sending the bowl of fruit scattering. Lila turned to the door and he was braced against it, breathing hard, eyes burning for her.
With a cry she went in the opposite direction, to the curved staircase.
She grew up in this house, knew its nooks and crannies better than anyone else. Lila was convinced if she could only get to her bedchamber, or better yet, the attic, she’d be safe. She could hide for weeks in this house and no one would find her.
Unfortunately her skirts hampered her and his legs were longer than hers. She heard him behind her, worse, at every curve of the stairs she was forced to watch his progress. He was gaining. At the second floor landing she jerked the painting from the wall, crying out as gilded splinters ripped her palms. The landscape hit him hard and he fell against the wall. Lila didn’t stop, she stayed fleet footed and made the next flight of stairs running. She was halfway up, could see the open door of her bedchamber when the hand grabbed her ankle. Lila screamed as she went sprawling, her shoulder hit the wrought iron of the stair case hard and she glared down at him, kicking with both feet. He held on tightly and it wasn’t until she nearly got his face that he let go her foot, the slipper fell on the carpeted stair.
With another cry, Lila turned back over, half crawling, half running on the staircase. She wouldn’t be sure how she made it to her bedchamber, but she did make it. She jerked the left door to her and made a grab for the right. Never before had she realized how vulnerable the double doors made her. She threw all her weight against the left door, jerking the right closed as she went. It was a struggle, he fell against the doors just as she closed them, then reared back, ramming the right with his shoulder. Lila put all her weight against them and reached blindly behind her for one of the spindly, Rococo chairs, but it wasn’t enough. He roared and slammed against the doors again, the combination of the force and his weight made them fly open. Lila herself fell against the wall with a sickening thud.
He was there to catch her before she hit the ground. She struggled hard against him, flailing out with her hands even though her body felt it was on fire. He held her struggling body, grunted at her fingernails, fought until finally he had her arms at her sides, his left arm curled around her shoulders, his right around her waist he forced her against his body and took all of her anger into himself. Lila fought until she could no longer fight, not comprehending why he was responding so selflessly. When her body was exhausted, a trembling took over. Harder and more violent than anything she’d ever felt before. It hurt, she shook so badly her teeth chattered.
All the while his fingers gripped her, his lips caressing her hair, his voice comforting. Lila was sure she would be sick. Her face was pressed into his neck. He was holding her so hard against his body and the wall she literally couldn’t move. She smelled his smell again and felt the crumbling of the last, final wall. Tears welled in her eyes and she jerked her head. Not that. She could take anything but her own tears. “Please Dieter,” her voice was a rough whisper against the stiff wool of his collar. “Please,” she couldn’t catch her breath. It hurt to breathe. She wondered if she’d broken anything when she fell. It would hurt more if she’d broken something, wouldn’t it? “You don’t-want to do this.”
“Shh,” his lips touched her forehead, trailed down her face to her eyelids. Her eyes were squeezed shut. “It’s alright Lila.”
“No, it’s not!” She jerked again, fight coming back to her. He held her tighter, she could feel the muscles in his arms tensing like bands of iron under the uniform. Uniforms are like the packaging on an unwanted gift.
“Yes,” he kissed a trail down her wet cheek, “yes it is. It’ll all be alright soon.”
“I don’t want this,” she managed to get an arm free and pressed her palm into his face, forcing it away from her own. He jerked, grasping her wrist tightly and forcing it painfully against the wall. Lila flinched. He pulled away enough to look her in the eye. The look in his eyes frightened her more than anything else.
“You will,” he murmured. It was that single-minded zeal for detail, she thought. He wasn’t looking at her with fascination, or even attraction. Just a look that said he would do this thing because it needed to be done. As though he were following orders. She realized in a sense he was.
“Please…don’t.” she gasped, she was crying, so close to sobbing that she couldn’t get a full breath. “I don’t want it to h-hurt.” What strange things come out of us in times of stress, she thought. As though the hurt were the only important thing. She felt as though she were speaking a foreign language, as though she didn't understand the words coming from her own mouth.
“Lila,” her named sounded wrong on his tongue. As though there were something horribly, horribly wrong with it. But what is a name? “Lila,” he released her wrist and cupped her face, fingers curling around her jaw, “I could never hurt you,” he used the back of his hand to smooth her hair from her face, “that decreases the risk of conception.”
“Oh. My God,” she fought again, shoving him hard in the chest with one hand. She managed to wriggle free and was almost out of the salon doors before he grabbed her bodily around the waist. Lila screamed again when she felt him begin to haul her through the room. Her body was on fire. She couldn’t tell if it was from being thrown or falling or just simple adrenalin. She flailed blindly behind her and screamed some more, he grabbed her arms impassively and continued the work of pulling her to the bedroom. Lila never realized her salon was so large.
She caught a glimpse of someone in the hall, her mind registered another soldier by the grey uniform. She called out to him anyway, pleading. He stopped in the door way, Dieter froze with her in his arms, Lila flailed again looking at the uniform and begging. He glanced at Dieter, Dieter said something in German. He looked Lila over, her torn dress, her feet kicked free of the slippers, her tear stained cheeks. Then he very deliberately closed the doors in their faces. Lila collapsed, all the fight leaving her one long, sustained, silent wail.
Dieter followed her to the ground, arms wrapped around her, legs splayed to either side of her. It was a very unmilitary pose and if it weren’t for the gravity of the situation he might have found it funny. As it was, Lila’s sobs took up all her energy, she gave herself over to the tears and he let her, knowing she had to cry herself out, exhaust herself, or she would never accept the inevitable. He was calm, gentle even, rocking her against his chest, holding her tightly. When she finally cried herself out, her first thought was that she had stained his tunic and she wondered what got tears out. Lila lifted her head, surprised his eyes were gentle, almost kind. “Please,” she murmured, “no.”
“We must,” he answered, fingers curling over her cheeks, thumbs brushing her tears, “it won’t hurt, I promise.” He grinned, boyishly handsome again, “You might like it.”
“I-“
“Hush now,” he ambled to his feet, offering her a hand. She took it because she knew she could never stand on her own. Lila stared into his eyes and saw the sympathy of the wasp that lays its eggs in the in the belly of the living caterpillar. “Come with me.”
&&&
Afterward, she lay on the bed and felt empty. Lila’s body felt as though she were an empty tea cup, or, she thought, his teacup. Filled with ashes because he preferred coffee. She had one hand shoved under the pillow, clutching the fabric so tightly she thought it would rip, the other hand curled into her naked chest. There were bruises on her breasts and between her thighs, what her grandmother would have called love bites. The name felt awful to her. She was more than naked. He stared down at her, watching as her chest rose and fell.
“It will be easier next time,” he murmured. His tunic was flung over the dressing table, the crisp white shirt was torn. She did that, she remembered. Wanting it over with quickly. She’d have to mend it later. He reached out to trace her face and she flinched. Smiling, he sat on the edge of the bed, reaching over her body to pull the sheet over her nakedness. “Rest through the day, I’ll see that we find our own lunch.”
We, the rest of them, she thought bitterly. Lila knew her Grandmere would be proud of the way she didn’t vomit on his shoes. “Thank you,” she said because she knew she was supposed to. His smile turned to a pleased grin.
“I won’t insult you by asking if it was so terrible,” she flinched again. The shame came from knowing that he’d made it feel wonderful. And that he knew her body enjoyed it. Lila cursed her traitorous body. She felt tears swelling again. “Know that you are doing a wonderful thing, Lila. You’re a respected contributor to the state.”
She wanted to tell him to go fuck his state. But she couldn’t seem to find the words to speak. She knew it would happen again, he’d said as much earlier. He would fuck her and fuck her and fuck her (and he would be sure she enjoyed it) until he got her pregnant and then he would present her to the German state and let them rip the child from her whether she wished it or not. “What if there’s something wrong with it?” Her voice was wooden.
“What?” he’d been talking but she was so lost in her own thoughts she must have missed what he said. He cocked his head, “I don’t understand.”
Lila sat up, caught the way his eyes watched her breasts, and gestured between the two of them. “The child, what if there’s something wrong with it.” She shrugged, “Not all babies are born perfect, Dieter.”
“If it is not a perfect specimen, there will be no use for it.” He spoke as though he were discussing the weather. Lila opened her mouth to ask what that meant. He placed a cool finger over her lips, “It doesn’t due to worry about such things, Lila. Our child will be perfect because we are perfect,” he kissed her. And it was a kiss so sweet, so soft, so filled with longing and hope that Lila wanted to forget the last hours. Instead it made her eyes spill over and bile rise in her throat. She choked. He pulled back, considered her for a moment. “You think I'm a monster now.” He seemed almost…sad.
Lila lip lifted in that awful way that was neither smile or grimace, “No.” she traced his lips with her forefinger, “You’re still just a man.” Just before his lips touched hers again she murmured, “Somehow that’s worse.”
What you have just read is fiction. Well, you know that. You even know it's fanfiction and only one of the characters came out of my head.
It's not real, but the themes in it are. Or, at least, historically accurate. The idea of "having children for the glory of the Reich" was a true political tool utilized by Heinrich Himmler in a program known as "Lebensborn" or, literally, Font of Life. It was essentially a breeding program perpetuated by the SS and there were very real facilities for women to go (assuming they passed the rigorous screening processes) in order to have these children.
You can read more about it here.
I'd be lying if I said it wasn't my intention to shock with this story. It was. To be honest I've known about this for a while, but I recently read something that brought back and I have this theory that even though fanfiction is fun for everybody, we've got to remember who we're writing about. Sure, the characters aren't real. But in this case, they're the representations of people who once lived. And we do a disservice to those who came before us when we forget.
We must not forget.
I am deeply sorry if I've upset anyone.
Characters: Hellstrom/OC
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: QT owns everything important. (in the fic, anyway)
Warnings: In this fic: Explicit themes, rape, implied non-con orgasm, violence, general heir of creeper.
Summary:Lila's life had been broken into two parts: before the occupation and after
Lila slept badly. Waking every few hours in fits and starts. When it was time to get up to start breakfast she was in foul temper. She snapped at the milk man and cursed over the breakfast cereals. Careful not to let on to any of the boarders that she was in bad spirits, she saved her distemper for the kitchen. If she had a cat, she thought, he would have scratched her eyes out by now.
When the last officer had cleaned the last plate, she set about clearing the dining room. She knew she dreamed in the night, she remembered some of it, but not enough to really piece together. Something about a baby crying?
“Good morning, Lila,” his voice cut through her thoughts and she cursed, dropping the knife she was soaping into the dishwater with a clatter.
“Major,” she muttered, clenching her teeth. She hadn’t cut herself, but only just.
“Didn’t we discuss my name last night,” he walked over to the sink, tossing a peach from one hand to the other. It came from the bowl in the front hall.
“My apologies, Dieter,” she jerked her chin at the peach, “you’ve missed breakfast again.”
“It’s becoming a habit,” he agreed, taking a bite of the fruit and quickly licking the broken skin to prevent it dripping down his uniform. “I trust you slept well?”
“Not at all,” she bit out. His smile told her he could tell as much. Lila knew she looked like death warmed over. “And you?”
“Like a baby,” he jerked his head at the percolator drying on the drainboard, “is there any coffee left?”
“No, but I’m happy to brew more,” her tone said she really wasn’t.
“I’ll wait,” he sauntered over to the farm table and sat down. “You know it’s probably a good thing you refrained from the party last night.”
“Oh?” She wanted to say something snide about how the caterers made a mess of her kitchen. A mess she was going to have to remedy today, but she didn’t. Instead she concentrated on the dishes. If he was willing to wait, then he could really wait. She was through with dropping everything at this major’s whim. “Why is that?”
She was only half listening, so intent on cleaning the morning’s dishes. “It wasn’t our typical soiree, you know. I’m afraid you would have been appalled at some of the behavior.” Lila made a noncommittal sound. “Actually, I was a bit shocked myself. As though these brave officers had never seen a willing woman before.”
“Sometimes men lose their heads,” Lila unstoppered the sink and let the dirty water swirl down the drain.
“Of course, it’s silly really,” he considered his nails, “we encourage our subordinates to follow the mandates but we rarely do so openly ourselves. Last night was…a chance to reignite the glory of the Reich, you might say.”
“Is that so?” Lila was still only half listening. She measured the coffee and set the percolator. “Didn’t you mention last night you wanted me there? You’ve changed your mind rather quickly, haven’t you?”
“So you are listening,” he made an appreciative sound in his throat. Lila rolled her eyes where he couldn’t see and then turned to face him, taking the chair opposite because he expected her to. “I did, you’re quite right. But after thoughtful consideration, I realized it was better that we talk privately, as we are now.”
“Oh?” It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him what was so special about the party the night before when he flashed her another of those dazzling, cocky smiles.
“I thought perhaps it would be better if we discussed the merits of making a child before we got down to business, don’t you agree?”
“I’m-what?” Lila’s body jerked. She must be more tired than she thought, there was no way she heard him correctly.
“You were right, you weren’t strictly invited to the party last night. Unfortunately, the women there were all specifically chosen, up until now you’ve escaped notice because of the service you do for us here, in the boarding house.”
There was a roaring in her ears and Lila heard a pulsing kindof drumbeat. After a moment she realized it was her heart. “I…what?”
“Part of being a good citizen,” he leaned forward, arm on the table, “a good soldier is doing whatever possible to further the glory of the Cause, don’t you agree?”
”I…suppose. Major-“
“Dieter, please,” he made a dashing motion with his hand and smiled apologetically, “Please, Lila. I wish you would call me Dieter.” And it was such a simple request, said so softly she almost believed he was sincere.
“Dieter,” Lila forced herself to take a deep breath. “Dieter I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“There is no better way to ensure the glory of the Third Reich than through children,” he recited, chuckling softly, “think of it, little girls become women who become mothers, little boys become men who become soldiers. Children born to parents like us, parents with desirable heritage are perfect specimens, they will exist long after we’re gone and they will have children of their own and so on down the line,” he touched the hand that was resting on the table and Lila flinched, “A little piece of perfection, molded to greatness.”
“You’re insane,” she murmured finally. Lila wondered on what grounds she could conceivably turn him out of the house without making the greater regime angry.
“No,” he sat back, his eyes shuttered, the enthusiasm hidden. “Just practical, this policy has been encouraged in Germany for some time now. Girls and women of childbearing age and desirable parentage are asked to do their duty to the war effort, married or no.”
“Who takes care of these children?”
“There are places of course,” he laughed, “we are an efficient, if not practical people. Perhaps you noticed.” He ran a hand through his hair and she realized he was nervous. “Soldiers in occupied countries that are presented with women who appear to match the criteria are asked to…sow their seed. We are like farmers, Lila, cultivating an important crop.”
“And this is what happened here last night,” the expression on his face didn’t change and Lila was filled with something like righteous indignation, “in my house!”
“It only remains your house because you have proven to be loyal,” he pointed out affably.
“Loyal.” Lila felt sick, “loyal.” She shook her head. The coffee was ready. For want of something to do she stood abruptly, walking purposely to the counter. He caught her wrist as she passed and held it. She finally looked back at him. His eyes were open, reverent. She thought he murmured her name, but she couldn’t be sure because he had her palm against his mouth. She disentangled herself as gently as she could without touching him.
He watched her back as she made the coffee. “It’s a golden opportunity for many, they’re taken care of, they see the best doctors,” he laughed, “if they want they can return to their old lives as though nothing happened. There are millions of loyal families who wish to have an additional perfect child.”
“What if they don’t wish to return home?” Lila couldn’t imagine giving a child away.
“They soon realize it’s better to do as they’re told. We know what's best in the end,” he considered the set of her shoulders, “the strong take care of the weak, remember?”
“Of course,” she splashed coffee onto the counter and left it because her mind was spinning. “I have no interest in marrying you, Dieter.” She placed the drink in front of him and he stared up at her quietly. If he was hurt or offended he didn’t show it.
“Certainly not,” he took a considering sip of the brew, “but you do not have to be married to have children, do you?”
“How can you even suggest this?” she cast around for the right words, “Don’t you see how, how-“
“Monstrous?”
“this is?” She fell back a step.
“Of course it would seem that way to you, Lila. You’re failing to see the bigger picture.” He took another sip of the coffee. “It’s very scientific, really.”
“But…bringing a child into the world shouldn’t be only about politics or science!”
“I agree,” he replaced the coffee cup on the saucer and stared up at her thoughtfully. “What would I have to do, I wonder…”
Lila cocked her head, her mind was clicking away too fast. She was a little afraid she would faint. “Do?”
“What would I have to do in order for you to see me as simply a man who happens to wear a uniform.”
“Oh,” Lila couldn’t take it anymore. Her screaming muscles, her mind screeching at her, the look in his eyes, she turned and ran from the kitchen. She knew he would follow, he wasn’t the type to give up without a fight. She heard the pounding of those boots on the floor behind her. She reached out blindly and pulled one of the dining room chairs down as she went, heard a crash as he fell over it, ignored his angry curses. She skidded in the front hall and slammed into the entry table, sending the bowl of fruit scattering. Lila turned to the door and he was braced against it, breathing hard, eyes burning for her.
With a cry she went in the opposite direction, to the curved staircase.
She grew up in this house, knew its nooks and crannies better than anyone else. Lila was convinced if she could only get to her bedchamber, or better yet, the attic, she’d be safe. She could hide for weeks in this house and no one would find her.
Unfortunately her skirts hampered her and his legs were longer than hers. She heard him behind her, worse, at every curve of the stairs she was forced to watch his progress. He was gaining. At the second floor landing she jerked the painting from the wall, crying out as gilded splinters ripped her palms. The landscape hit him hard and he fell against the wall. Lila didn’t stop, she stayed fleet footed and made the next flight of stairs running. She was halfway up, could see the open door of her bedchamber when the hand grabbed her ankle. Lila screamed as she went sprawling, her shoulder hit the wrought iron of the stair case hard and she glared down at him, kicking with both feet. He held on tightly and it wasn’t until she nearly got his face that he let go her foot, the slipper fell on the carpeted stair.
With another cry, Lila turned back over, half crawling, half running on the staircase. She wouldn’t be sure how she made it to her bedchamber, but she did make it. She jerked the left door to her and made a grab for the right. Never before had she realized how vulnerable the double doors made her. She threw all her weight against the left door, jerking the right closed as she went. It was a struggle, he fell against the doors just as she closed them, then reared back, ramming the right with his shoulder. Lila put all her weight against them and reached blindly behind her for one of the spindly, Rococo chairs, but it wasn’t enough. He roared and slammed against the doors again, the combination of the force and his weight made them fly open. Lila herself fell against the wall with a sickening thud.
He was there to catch her before she hit the ground. She struggled hard against him, flailing out with her hands even though her body felt it was on fire. He held her struggling body, grunted at her fingernails, fought until finally he had her arms at her sides, his left arm curled around her shoulders, his right around her waist he forced her against his body and took all of her anger into himself. Lila fought until she could no longer fight, not comprehending why he was responding so selflessly. When her body was exhausted, a trembling took over. Harder and more violent than anything she’d ever felt before. It hurt, she shook so badly her teeth chattered.
All the while his fingers gripped her, his lips caressing her hair, his voice comforting. Lila was sure she would be sick. Her face was pressed into his neck. He was holding her so hard against his body and the wall she literally couldn’t move. She smelled his smell again and felt the crumbling of the last, final wall. Tears welled in her eyes and she jerked her head. Not that. She could take anything but her own tears. “Please Dieter,” her voice was a rough whisper against the stiff wool of his collar. “Please,” she couldn’t catch her breath. It hurt to breathe. She wondered if she’d broken anything when she fell. It would hurt more if she’d broken something, wouldn’t it? “You don’t-want to do this.”
“Shh,” his lips touched her forehead, trailed down her face to her eyelids. Her eyes were squeezed shut. “It’s alright Lila.”
“No, it’s not!” She jerked again, fight coming back to her. He held her tighter, she could feel the muscles in his arms tensing like bands of iron under the uniform. Uniforms are like the packaging on an unwanted gift.
“Yes,” he kissed a trail down her wet cheek, “yes it is. It’ll all be alright soon.”
“I don’t want this,” she managed to get an arm free and pressed her palm into his face, forcing it away from her own. He jerked, grasping her wrist tightly and forcing it painfully against the wall. Lila flinched. He pulled away enough to look her in the eye. The look in his eyes frightened her more than anything else.
“You will,” he murmured. It was that single-minded zeal for detail, she thought. He wasn’t looking at her with fascination, or even attraction. Just a look that said he would do this thing because it needed to be done. As though he were following orders. She realized in a sense he was.
“Please…don’t.” she gasped, she was crying, so close to sobbing that she couldn’t get a full breath. “I don’t want it to h-hurt.” What strange things come out of us in times of stress, she thought. As though the hurt were the only important thing. She felt as though she were speaking a foreign language, as though she didn't understand the words coming from her own mouth.
“Lila,” her named sounded wrong on his tongue. As though there were something horribly, horribly wrong with it. But what is a name? “Lila,” he released her wrist and cupped her face, fingers curling around her jaw, “I could never hurt you,” he used the back of his hand to smooth her hair from her face, “that decreases the risk of conception.”
“Oh. My God,” she fought again, shoving him hard in the chest with one hand. She managed to wriggle free and was almost out of the salon doors before he grabbed her bodily around the waist. Lila screamed again when she felt him begin to haul her through the room. Her body was on fire. She couldn’t tell if it was from being thrown or falling or just simple adrenalin. She flailed blindly behind her and screamed some more, he grabbed her arms impassively and continued the work of pulling her to the bedroom. Lila never realized her salon was so large.
She caught a glimpse of someone in the hall, her mind registered another soldier by the grey uniform. She called out to him anyway, pleading. He stopped in the door way, Dieter froze with her in his arms, Lila flailed again looking at the uniform and begging. He glanced at Dieter, Dieter said something in German. He looked Lila over, her torn dress, her feet kicked free of the slippers, her tear stained cheeks. Then he very deliberately closed the doors in their faces. Lila collapsed, all the fight leaving her one long, sustained, silent wail.
Dieter followed her to the ground, arms wrapped around her, legs splayed to either side of her. It was a very unmilitary pose and if it weren’t for the gravity of the situation he might have found it funny. As it was, Lila’s sobs took up all her energy, she gave herself over to the tears and he let her, knowing she had to cry herself out, exhaust herself, or she would never accept the inevitable. He was calm, gentle even, rocking her against his chest, holding her tightly. When she finally cried herself out, her first thought was that she had stained his tunic and she wondered what got tears out. Lila lifted her head, surprised his eyes were gentle, almost kind. “Please,” she murmured, “no.”
“We must,” he answered, fingers curling over her cheeks, thumbs brushing her tears, “it won’t hurt, I promise.” He grinned, boyishly handsome again, “You might like it.”
“I-“
“Hush now,” he ambled to his feet, offering her a hand. She took it because she knew she could never stand on her own. Lila stared into his eyes and saw the sympathy of the wasp that lays its eggs in the in the belly of the living caterpillar. “Come with me.”
&&&
Afterward, she lay on the bed and felt empty. Lila’s body felt as though she were an empty tea cup, or, she thought, his teacup. Filled with ashes because he preferred coffee. She had one hand shoved under the pillow, clutching the fabric so tightly she thought it would rip, the other hand curled into her naked chest. There were bruises on her breasts and between her thighs, what her grandmother would have called love bites. The name felt awful to her. She was more than naked. He stared down at her, watching as her chest rose and fell.
“It will be easier next time,” he murmured. His tunic was flung over the dressing table, the crisp white shirt was torn. She did that, she remembered. Wanting it over with quickly. She’d have to mend it later. He reached out to trace her face and she flinched. Smiling, he sat on the edge of the bed, reaching over her body to pull the sheet over her nakedness. “Rest through the day, I’ll see that we find our own lunch.”
We, the rest of them, she thought bitterly. Lila knew her Grandmere would be proud of the way she didn’t vomit on his shoes. “Thank you,” she said because she knew she was supposed to. His smile turned to a pleased grin.
“I won’t insult you by asking if it was so terrible,” she flinched again. The shame came from knowing that he’d made it feel wonderful. And that he knew her body enjoyed it. Lila cursed her traitorous body. She felt tears swelling again. “Know that you are doing a wonderful thing, Lila. You’re a respected contributor to the state.”
She wanted to tell him to go fuck his state. But she couldn’t seem to find the words to speak. She knew it would happen again, he’d said as much earlier. He would fuck her and fuck her and fuck her (and he would be sure she enjoyed it) until he got her pregnant and then he would present her to the German state and let them rip the child from her whether she wished it or not. “What if there’s something wrong with it?” Her voice was wooden.
“What?” he’d been talking but she was so lost in her own thoughts she must have missed what he said. He cocked his head, “I don’t understand.”
Lila sat up, caught the way his eyes watched her breasts, and gestured between the two of them. “The child, what if there’s something wrong with it.” She shrugged, “Not all babies are born perfect, Dieter.”
“If it is not a perfect specimen, there will be no use for it.” He spoke as though he were discussing the weather. Lila opened her mouth to ask what that meant. He placed a cool finger over her lips, “It doesn’t due to worry about such things, Lila. Our child will be perfect because we are perfect,” he kissed her. And it was a kiss so sweet, so soft, so filled with longing and hope that Lila wanted to forget the last hours. Instead it made her eyes spill over and bile rise in her throat. She choked. He pulled back, considered her for a moment. “You think I'm a monster now.” He seemed almost…sad.
Lila lip lifted in that awful way that was neither smile or grimace, “No.” she traced his lips with her forefinger, “You’re still just a man.” Just before his lips touched hers again she murmured, “Somehow that’s worse.”
What you have just read is fiction. Well, you know that. You even know it's fanfiction and only one of the characters came out of my head.
It's not real, but the themes in it are. Or, at least, historically accurate. The idea of "having children for the glory of the Reich" was a true political tool utilized by Heinrich Himmler in a program known as "Lebensborn" or, literally, Font of Life. It was essentially a breeding program perpetuated by the SS and there were very real facilities for women to go (assuming they passed the rigorous screening processes) in order to have these children.
You can read more about it here.
I'd be lying if I said it wasn't my intention to shock with this story. It was. To be honest I've known about this for a while, but I recently read something that brought back and I have this theory that even though fanfiction is fun for everybody, we've got to remember who we're writing about. Sure, the characters aren't real. But in this case, they're the representations of people who once lived. And we do a disservice to those who came before us when we forget.
We must not forget.
I am deeply sorry if I've upset anyone.