A Diary Entry from Alexander Lukashenko By Robert S. Costic
The following story is a work of fiction, and it is not intended to imply or make any factual claims about any of the celebrities portrayed herein, including the true nature of their sexuality or anything about their private lives.
Robert Costic has written a collection of fairy tales, "Flamethrower Fairy Tales," and a novella, "Kepler's Revenge," and has also translated the 19th century German writer Theodor Storm's fairy tales and ghost stories. All are available as ebooks everywhere.
Although Vladimir Putin has been my best ally I can't say that we have been the closest friends. It's true, as president of Belarus I've been able to rely on him and Russia more so than anyone or anything else. At the same time, however, Vladimir has never missed the opportunity to remind me that he's the stronger partner in this relationship and that I should be grateful for whatever he gives me. Should anyone be surprised that I would be resentful?
This was my issue when I visited him most recently. He invited me to a hunting trip in the forests far to the north of Russia. Although we initially met with the media and visited the locals the bulk of the excursion was alone with a few aides, and we had a luxury cabin to ourselves. If I had been alone I might have enjoyed the trip a great deal more; the forest was pristine and largely ignored by civilization, which under better circumstances could have lent itself to a meditative bonding with nature.
But our goal was to find and kill a bear, and Vladimir, by my side, shirtless, showing off the flabby muscles of a middle-aged man, drew attention to the fact that his dog was bigger than mine, that his forests were bigger than mine, and that the animals that inhabited them were more ferocious than those in Belarus. I had to check myself from rolling my eyes, reminding myself that I was doing this for the service of my country and my job and not for personal pleasure.
I had to listen to his breast-beating for the bulk of the day, and with all of his yammering it was no surprise that we never came anywhere closer to a bear. When the sun finally started to settle -- and mind you, this was late in the day, as we were in northern Russia in the summer, when the sun barely settles at all -- we retired back to the cabin to have a large dinner. When the aides left I was ready to go to bed, but Vladimir, still shirtless, came to me and said, "Look at this."
Vladimir unzipped his pants and unsheathed his dick so that I could see it. "Isn't it huge?" he said. "I have one of the biggest dicks, too!"
It was at this point that I questioned his sanity. The problem for me wasn't that he would show me his dick; he had already done so many things on this trip to exacerbate me that this hardly came as a surprise. But the problem was that his dick was quite plainly very small. It would've been one thing if it were at least average -- something that one could at least make an argument for -- but this was more similar to the size of my thumb.
Throughout most of his nonsense I had just complacently agreed with him so as to not cause any trouble, but Vladimir's insistence that his miniscule, little penis was enormous rocked my mind so terribly I was left speechless. I just looked at it and at him, dumbfounded, and he must've noticed, because he asked me, "What, don't you agree?"
If I had been smarter I would have just said yes, but it seemed so obviously wrong to me at the time I just raised an eyebrow and shook my head.
"You've got to be kidding," Vladimir said. "Of course it's enormous. Who do you know that has a bigger dick than this one?"
"Well, I do," I whispered, already regretting what I had just said.
"What?" Vladimir said. He was flabbergasted. He paced around the cabin, his tiny dick still poking out of the pants that he still wore just under the hips. "I don't believe it. Show me."
"Hmm?"
"Show me your dick," he said. "I want to see this gigantic penis of yours."
"No, it's all right," I said, trying to backtrack. "You're right. Your penis must be bigger. It's okay. I don't need to show it."
"Don't be a pussy," Vladimir said. "Show it." Now it was no longer about who was right. He was punishing me for questioning him and forcing me to prove that I wasn't a pussy. If I didn't show him now I'd never hear the end of it.
"I'll do it if it makes you happy," I said finally.
"Show me," he said.
So I unzipped my pants -- I didn't make a big deal of it -- and just pulled it out.
He gasped and jumped back a bit. "Is that real?" he asked.
"Yes, it's real." I sighed.
Vladimir came closer and examined it. "May I touch it?" he asked.
"Do you have to?"
"I've just never seen anything like it," he said. "It's... kind of beautiful," and without any further request for permission he reached out and touched it, rubbing his thumb across the top of it as if measuring the length of it. "What does it look like erect?" he asked.
"Does it get even bigger than that?"
"Yes it gets bigger," I said. "Don't you know what an erect penis looks like? It straightens out and becomes harder."
"Can you show me?"
"Do we really have to do this?" I asked. "Watch some porn movies. You'll see plenty of erect penises."
"I don't need to see pornos," Vladimir said. "I date plenty of women.
They satisfy me plenty, and I satisfy them. My life is too exciting sexually as it is for me to bother with pornos. Show me your erect penis."
Part of me thought I should just bolt, leave this cabin, and forget the whole rest of this trip, but unfortunately there was that fear lurking deep inside of me that if I didn't comply Vladimir would retaliate against me in some childish, bullying way. I've been erect plenty of times before, and sometimes in the company of men -- but never like this. I rationalized my way into doing what he asked, so I jerked off until my dick was sufficiently stiff.
"There, are you satisfied?" I asked.
Vladimir didn't say anything. He looked at it and then touched the full head, pulling the foreskin back so that he could see all of it. "It's amazing," he said. "How did you acquire a penis like this?"
"I didn't acquire it," I said. "I've had this penis all my life. It just comes with good genes. To be honest, it's not even all that big.
It's what you'd call an average-sized penis."
"Average?" Vladimir said, startled. "Average! If that's average, then what is mine? Average! So you're telling me I have a tiny penis! Obviously my penis is smaller than yours. So what does that make it?"
"Well..."
Vladimir threw up his hands. "I can't believe it. I have a tiny penis. And no one ever bothered to tell me until now. People have lied to me. They've betrayed me, and I'm sure they've mocked me behind my back. Lyudmila was probably telling all her girlfriends all about it; I'm sure they were cracking all sorts of jokes. That bitch."
"It doesn't matter," I said.
"It does matter!" Vladimir repeated mockingly. "Of course you'd say that. Almost everything in your life is small. Your country is small. Your animals are small. Just by some freak of nature you happen to have a big penis." He held a hand to his head, distraught.
"Size is only an issue if you make it one," I said. "I'm content with what I have. I don't worry about the size of my country or my animals. It's not where I find meaning in life."
"Let's not get philosophical," Vladimir said. "I'm not going to start talking about what's meaningful or not. That's for pussies! What I respect is strength and power, and you don't get that from small dicks." He paused, breathing heavily. "I have an idea."
"What?" I asked.
"Let's wrestle."
I groaned. "Why!"
"What, are you a pussy? Let's wrestle!" Perhaps this was his pathetic attempt to reclaim masculine domination in his eyes.
"I'll just let you win," I said. "I have no interest."
"No. Whoever loses, gets fucked by the other guy in the ass!"
"What!" I said. "That's crazy!"
"Are you a pussy?" he said. "Because I think you're being one right now."
I was ready to just get up and quit this whole farce, but Vladimir actually lunged at me. Now I didn't have a choice. He was forcing me to wrestle with him. Now, I shouldn't have to mention this part, but what's evident to most of the world is that Vladimir is pretty short at 1.7 meters, much shorter than I am, so it was easy for me to overtake him. Again, I don't know what he was thinking, but in less than a minute I had him pinned face down against the wooden floor.
"Do you really want me to fuck you?" I asked him now.
"Fuck me, you little piece of shit," Vladimir said. "Do it! Pussy!"
So I spat on my dick and jammed it in his ass. He screamed. I pounded him relentlessly, keeping him pinned to the ground, hoping that maybe in this violence I was unleashing on him he would relent in his stupid claims to macho superiority. He screamed and screamed, and he probably cried -- but I wasn't paying attention. I tore into his ass until my dick couldn't take it anymore and sprayed his innards. I leapt off of him, told him, "Worthless sack of shit," zipped up my pants, and left that God-forsaken cabin.
The next day the two of us attended a press conference.