Barack Obama pulls up a seat and get all comfy like. "Hey friends, welcome back to the podcast," Obama's soothing voice serenades your ears with pleasure, " and today we have a very special evening planned for you. Today we will be reading from History of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union (Bolsheviks) by J V Stalin. I Hope you all enjoy it."

It was a cold evening, early February of 1945, though this was far from unusual in the Soviet Union. The temperature lowers ten degrees every time you thought about it too much, which is why Comrade Stalin preferred to spend his nights cozying up to the fireplace. The flames danced and illuminated the otherwise dark room, but it was not the flames that would be keeping Stalin's heart warm tonight. For something inside Stalin burned even brighter than these Russian flames, and it was his love. The fireside reminded Stalin of his love, and on nights such as this he would play one of the many recordings that Stalin kept around his house. Recordings of the soothing voice of the man that Stalin felt the deepest of affections for.

The record began playing: "My friends, I want to talk for a few minutes with the people of the United States about Banking." Now Stalin cared very little for banking. This was something Stalin made very clear when he organized the Tiflis Bank Robbery in 1907. No it was not the subject of these chats, but the speaker, Franklin "The Delano" Roosevelt. Just hearing his voice was enough to put the Georgian Autocrat at ease. But oh how it pained him that the two lived on opposite ends of the world. At least he had his recordings to keep him company, but Stalin yearned for genuine contact, for the warmth of Franklin's body embracing his own, for the softness of his hair and the tenderness of his touch.

But he would only need to hold out for just a day more, for on the fourth day of this very same month, his darling Roosevelt would be arriving in Yalta for a meeting with the other Allied leaders. Though Stalin did admit to himself that he would be most supremely overjoyed should Churchill choose not to attend. Churchill was to put it quite simply, literally the worst. An impressive feat, given the competition. But Stalin did not want to dwell on this, this week was far too important to him to allow someone like Churchill ruin it for him. Before he even knew it, Stalin fell asleep bundled up as the fire slowly died, hoping that come the next evening it would not be his blanket, but FDR with which he was wrapped in.

"S-Stalin, Sir, it's time for you to get up" a man pathetically whimpered into Stalin's ear.

Stalin took a sidelong glance at the clock, "6:59". "You're too early," Stalin muttered, pressing a button next to him. The floor opened up, swallowing the hapless man. Stalin sighed and slept for exactly one minute, resuming his wake when the clock hit 7.

"Good Morning Stalin Sir!" said the replacement for the last guy, "I brought you a classic Georgian breakfast of Country Fried Steak, with a side of scrambled eggs, and bacon. Of course I also have chocolate milk, made the way you like it!"

Stalin was skeptical, "How much vodka is in the Chocolate Milk?"

"All of it!"

Stalin chuckled, a good hearty chuckle like one you might expect from Santa Clause. "Very good, you will live this day!"

"Thank you! I will let you know when the other leaders arrive!" The man walked briskly out the door, as Stalin began to devour his Country Fried Steak.

Breakfast finished, Stalin cast off his pajamas, and went to find his finest suit. He wanted to dress his best for when Roosevelt arrived.

"White or Green" he muttered to himself, "Is Green too 'military'? I don't want to come across as too aggressive." He settled for the white suit, and then made his way to the main hall.

As misfortune would have it, Churchill was the first to arrive. "Oy brov, wheres Rosey, he got some nerve leavin' me alone with you lot!" Churchill screamed as he barged his way into the room.

Stalin said nothing, he never spoke directly with Churchill.

"Still as silent as ur ol' pal Trotsky eh?" Churchill quipped, "Well I didn' wanna talk to yah anyhow. Ye and yer commie friends cahn all fahk off ter hell if yah ask me. Now pass me ah cask of Brandy will yah, Ahm Starvin."

The British Prime minister fumbled his way into the Kitchen.

"Right, wots all this then!?" He waved a bottle of Vodka in the air, "Yer tellin me yah don' even got any real drinks, yah limey bastard!?"

Stalin continued to stand motionless, pondering how the proletariat would kill Churchill should the English people ever come to their senses.

"Fine, al Jus' smoke my Cigar. Fahk you!" Churchill waddled outside, lighter in hand.

"I am going to need more Vodka" Stalin muttered to himself, heading into the Kitchen.

It was another hour until FDR rolled onto the scene. "Ah about bloody time yeh showed up!" Stalin heard Churchill say from outside, "Mr. Mustache Man's been passive aggressively starin' at me for the last hour!"

FDR smiled warmly, chuckling slightly, "That's Stalin for you. Now if you excuse me, I should really get my things inside."

"Ah can get you one'a my servants to do that for yah." Churchill exhaled a puff of smoke, "I ain't payin them to stand around here. They're lucky I got 'em outta India before that famine."

"Didn't you cause that famine?"

Churchill laughed hartley, "Oh yeah, I did!"

"I think I can handle my suitcase" FDR said as he rolled past Churchill.

As Roosevelt entered the building Stalin was standing there waiting for him.

"You're late" Stalin muttered.

"Well we hit a bit of traffic out by Atlantis, you know how it is" FDR smiled, "Do you have a hat rack, I don't want to prance around in my fedora all day."

"Da" Stalin nodded, gently removing FDR's famous fedora, revealing his hair, which had been rapidly greying. He ran his hand through Franklin's hair, down his face, and finally landing on his chin, "I have missed you. Everyday we have been apart has been like hell. And having been through Stalingrad, I know what hell feels like."

Roosevelt looked into Stalin's crimson eyes. "When this war is finally over, I wouldn't mind leaving the US forever. Finding a small place in Siberia to live out the rest of our lives. Together."

Stalin gently kissed Roosevelt's mouth, his bushy mustache tickling the president's upper lip. "I would like that very much."

Stalin quickly turned to make sure Churchill was still outside. The coast seemed to be clear for now. "Let me take your things from you, you must be tired after such a long journey."

Roosevelt handed Stalin his briefcase, "The plane ride was killing me, but I can't wait to go stretch out my legs a little" the president laughed and gestured towards his wheelchair.

Stalin does not laugh much, but he did crack a smile. "Fortunately for you, the Master Bedroom is on the first floor."

"If I'm in the Master Bedroom, where will you sleep," Roosevelt smirked, knowing full well the answer to that question.

The Master Bedroom was painted in a deep red, matching the glorious banner of the Soviet Union. It came complete with matching yellow curtains, that covered a door that led to a back porch. The villa was built on a mountain, meaning even the first floor porch had a beautiful view of the valley below. The bed itself was one fit for a king, fortunate since two absolute Kings would be making use of it that night. The bed was covered in bear skin blankets, likely killed by Stalin himself. To the left was a large walk-in closet, to hold Stalin's many outfits. A large fireplace took up much of the wall opposite the bed, perfect for long Russian winters. And above the bed frame hung a picture of Lenin, Stalin's old Comrade. While Stalin never had any romantic feelings for Lenin, the two shared a strong bond of friendship that even Robert Oppenhiemer could not break. A large sword was mounted underneath the picture of Lenin. The Sword of Stalingrad was created by the English King, and reluctantly gifted to Stalin by Winston Churchill two years prior when they last met in Tehran. The jewel encrusted blade really tied the room together.

Stalin placed Roosevelt's briefcase on the foot of the bed, then coyley turned around and locked the door. He was not going to risk Churchill walking in on them again. Then he picked up Franklin out of his wheelchair bridal style, and placed him on the bed. Stalin climbed on the bed after him and the two shared a passionate kiss.

Roosevelt pulled his head back a bit and smiled, "wait, before we go further, could I ask you to wear something for me?"

Stalin, aroused, smirked, "Oh, you are in to those sorts of things, Da?"

"Well, let's just say there is a new fashion trend in certain American magazines, and I am dying to see what you look like in one." Roosevelt smiled slyly, "It's in my briefcase."

Stalin rummaged through Roosevelt's briefcase until he found what appeared to be a black leotard, with matching bunny ears.

"A bunny outfit?" Stalin noted quizzically, "I have seen weirder. Is this truly popular in America?"

"Very Truly" Roosevelt said.

Stalin unbuttoned his white suit to reveal his finely toned six-pack. His chest was covered in a satisfying layer of hair. Off came his pants, and he slowly slipped into the leotard, being sure to give Roosevelt a bit of a show as he was doing it. He then put on the collars, a bowtie, and finally the Bunny Ears themselves.

Stalin struck a sexy pose, "How do I look?"

"Right, wots all this then?" Stalin panicked as the outside door opened. Had he forgotten to lock it? He locked the main door for certain, but he did not even think that someone would come in through the outside porch. Yet here was Churchill, puffing his cigar in the doorway, staring directly at the bunny dictator.

"I know what this looks like..." Roosevelt started saying.

"Really? Because I don't" Churchill tapped his Cigar , "I wos just takin' a stroll cause you blokes were takin' so bloody long unpackin', and I see this here porch and wondered 'eh, wonder where this goes'. And the I find the two of ye like this! Wots with that outfit, it looks silly as all 'ell! It aint even Easter for Chrisake!"

"Is this a traditional Easter outfit?" Stalin whispered to Roosevelt.

"Not particularly," Roosevelt admitted, "It's more of a fetish thing."

"Ah, I understand," Stalin said, still somewhat perturbed by Churchill's presence.

"Well, Imma jus' head out, when yer all done playin' Peter Cottontail or whatever then get yer arses out 'ere so we can discuss the bloody fate of the world or what not."

Churchill spun around and walked back out the door.

"Alright, now where were we?" Stalin asked seductively.

Stalin crawled on the bed and climbed on top of Roosevelt. As they started kissing, Stalin reached to undo Roosevelt's belt. Slowly he pulled down his pants revealing Franklin's 9 inch…

"Erm" Obama interrupted, "This part gets a bit too steamy, so, uhhhhhhh, I'm gonna skip over it so we don't get demonetized. Lets just say that things get a little crazy, some toys were involved, and Enver Hoxa watched the whole thing from the closet, and he too gained some enjoyment. Ok, now where were we…"

Stalin and Roosevelt lie next to each other in Stalin's bed, Sweat still clinging steadfast to their bare chests. Roosevelt lights his pipe. For a moment they were in complete bliss, but both men knew that they would soon need to meet in the conference.

Over the course of the next few days, the three leaders of the allied powers negotiated their strategies to beat the Nazis. The end of the war seemed close at hand, and the main goal was to determine the fate of the post-war world. Churchill was consistently furious that Roosevelt was conceding any points to Stalin.

"Why're ye giving ground to the commies!" Churchill said to Roosevelt in private, "They're jus' as bad as the Nazis! If I had it my way I'd keep our troops in Europe to march on them bloody reds as soon as Germany capitulates!"

"Whether you like it or not, the post-war world will be shaped by the relationship between the West and the Soviets. It would much beholden us to keep the Soviets as an ally, lest the world continue to be plunged into strife and destruction."

"Yer just saying that cause ol' Man O Steel looks good in a speedo or what not!" Churchill laughed, "We can't have peace with no commies, not while I'm alive"

Roosevelt blushed at the thought of Stalin in a Speedo.

The week went by too fast, and before Stalin and Roosevelt knew it, they would be parting ways once again.

Stalin gave Roosevelt one last kiss, "Do not worry, this war is swiftly coming to an end. We shall meet again soon, once it is all over."

Roosevelt smiled, "We will see it through to the end. And don't forget our promise."

"Never" Stalin said, a single tear welling up in his eye.

"Until next time. Once ol' Hitler finally surrenders."

And so Roosevelt turns around, and wheels his chair towards the waiting plane.

"But there would not be a next time," Obama finished, tears welling up in his eyes, "for two months later, on April 12th 1945, Franklin "The Delano" Roosevelt died of a Hemorrhagic Stroke."

Obama closed his book, "Well, I hope you all enjoyed our tale of life, lust, love, and loss. Tune in next week when we welcome special guest, Ronald Reagan's ghost, to discuss the newest season of Star Wars: The Clone Wars."

Jet, who was working the register said, "Sir this is a Wendys"