Germany rolled out of bed, wiping his big meaty fist against his slime encrusted eyes groggily. He had been asleep 12 hours. Germany looked blearily at the clock. OH NO! 4 PM! He was late to his dermatologist appointment! Today they were supposed to take a sample of the green pus emerging from his mutilated penis to screen it for cancer. UH OH! Germany had to rush rush RUSH!
Germany stumbled across the room in a blind panic, scrounging around for some clean clothes to slap on his body so he could rush out the door. Uh oh, he remembered, he hasn't done laundry since the divorce. Italy was the one who took care of that. Oh well! Germany found a pair of sweatpants on the floor and tried to put them on. They were completely stiff after years of sweat and grime finally dried them into an immovable position. Oops! Germany threw them to the ground and looked into the closet instead. Surely he had at least one pair of clean clothes…?
He slammed the door open, putting a dent into the wall. He stared into the depths of his closet, searching, hoping.
One shoe.
The closet was barren. Hangers holding nothing, forgotten.
But the shoe remained.
Whose shoe was this…?
He knew it wasn't his. The only pair of shoes he has been wearing for the past 3 years were his old pair of light up sketchers, which were safely placed at the front door. A dress shoe, surely it was never his. A dark shiny black, patent leather. Germany got down on the floor to inspect it closely. He took a sniff.
Feliciano.
Germany's erection was instantaneous. Even after years of no use, this shoe still held the pungent odor of Feliciano's athlete's foot. Germany's mind was flooded with the memories of licking those fungus infested toes, hearing the squeals of his lover... The smell, oh, the delightful smell and taste…
Uh oh. These thoughts never ended well.
Germany needed a distraction from what would surely end up as a full-on catatonic state of misery and self-loathing if he kept thinking about the way he and Feliciano ended so bitterly.
He knew what he had to do.
He rolled down his bicycle shorts, exposing his freshly wounded genitals. He had had some fun with a durian last week. Was skin supposed to be this color of purple? Germany didn't care to remember. All he could focus on was how smooth that shoe looked... He needed to feel it on his penis. He took Italy's shoe, gave it one more lingering sniff before taking the heel of the shoe and grinding it into his dick. The pain was excruciating. The heel dug into his infected and weeping wounds. He was seeing stars. This was the best pleasure he had felt since his escapade with Olaf. He twisted the shoe deeper into his flesh, relishing in the sweet, distracting pain.
He had a new idea. He opened that shoe right up and stuck his penis right into the opening! A third leg indeed! Little Ludwig humped that shoe for a record breaking 15 seconds. His stamina was truly increasing! He let out a barbaric grunt as his earth-shattering orgasm overtook him.
Germany was out of breath. He laid on the floor, savoring that delectable relief, just feeling the lingering throbbing pain in his penis...
He didn't know how long he laid there.
When Germany woke up, it was dark. He sat up dazedly, picked up his Nokia phone.
1 missed call.
He struggled for a few moments, trying to hit the button to play the voicemail, but his fingers were too huge to be able to press a single button. After getting distracted by a game of snake for another 14 minutes, he finally took a pencil to press the button.
"Hello Mr. Beilschmidt, I noticed you did not come into your appointment today. We had to charge your account for the missed appointment fee, but unfortunately even that was rejected for low funds. I'm sorry sir, but we cannot serve you if you cannot afford our services. I'm sorry. Have a good afternoon, Mr. Beilschmidt." Beep.
Germany played another game of snake.
FIN.