Who's the most beautiful person (man or woman) in history to you ?

get clover

it's the perfect combination of great hair, rugged face and burning stare

Thanks friend this is great.

Lads, is it gay if I have a poster of Hepburn on my wall?

Christ

>Lads, is it gay if I have a poster of Hepburn on my wall?

Yes.

Only if you forget to say no homo before looking at it.

Elizabeth Taylor
are you an gril?

You know the rules fucko

Pasta

She looks a little bit like a trap tbqh desu.

Where is my anne frank erotic fanfiction? fag

>Turk
*Albanian.
I know that and i ain't even Albanian.
She reminds me a bit of Elizabeth from burial at sea.

/pol/ version or /k/ version?

/k/

She looks ugly m8.

Breath in...

Breath out...

The dance of three heartbeats, a sonata in three parts lead by the thunderpulse of her own heart. She held her breath, forcing her heart to stop its frantic hammer-blows against her sternum as the crosshairs of her K98 danced over the nazi's drab uniform. The quiet dance in her belly lagged a half-beat behind, the twins filling her gravid middle playing along with their mother's pulse. Playing like little children should, happy and full of joy. They didn't know what the world was like, and Anne swore they would never know what it was like to live under the iron eagle.

Her grip tightened on her rifle's warn stock. It wouldn't be long now. She could already feel the tingle between her legs and the tightness in her already swollen belly. Labor would be on her soon, but she forced herself not to think about it. She'd spent so long, worked so hard for this one chance. She was not letting it slip past her.

As if they sensed their mother's focus, the twins in her womb stopped their dancing. For a moment, everything was quiet on the snowy hillside. The obergruppenfuhrer in her scope was clearly more worried about entertaining his dinner guests than anything else.

*Bang*

The rifle slammed back against her shoulder as a single spitzer-pointed bullet roared towards its mark. Anne knew her aim was true, but she couldn't trace the round through the air. The sock of the rifle had been enough. The last straw that sent her toppling off the cliff and into labor.

A shriek of pain was hastily quenched by gnashed teeth and thin lips. She forced herself to get up and run, forced herself to ignore the great weight swelling her womb. She needed to find safety. But she was so deep in occupied territory...

Anne forced herself to push past the weight. To push past the shuddering desire to just stop and relieve the extraordinary pressure pushing so desperately at the floor of her womb. She ignored the way her twins jostled with every step, squishing her lungs and making each breath of the chilly air that much harder before they came crashing down again.

The children... her babies seemed to recognize their mother's urgency. The playful dance they'd been enjoying ceased as she ran down the broken hillside. Her boots--stuffed with layers of socks and laced loose in the kindest gesture she could make to her swollen feet--stomped through the under grown with a mad fury.

She carried her rifle in one hand, balancing it by the scope and praying she wouldn't need to take another shot. Her heart was thundering and her muscles twitching from the flood of adrenaline battling with her primal maternal instinct to give birth. She'd pushed this as long as she could, she'd fought tooth and nail with her own body for every day and minute, but biology could only be denied for so long. She *needed* to give birth, and soon.

Her free hand cradled her belly, pressing tightly against the taper of her swollen womb in a vain attempt to delay the inevitable. If she could just get home. Get somewhere safe. Somewhere she could birth her twins. Somewhere she could let the labor pains encroaching on her even now have their way with her.

"*Actung!*" A crack rang out, and a dead tree exploded in sodden termite-eaten shrapnel.

Anne couldn't get low, not with her belly swollen almost to bursting. The best she could manage was flopping on her side and bracing her rifle against a fallen log. It wasn't the best shooting position, but...

*Bang!*

She made it work.

They were looking for an army. Jackbooted thugs in their proud black uniforms and polished metal helmets running from door to door like scolded puppies. They'd been the terror in the night once, now they were scared of the dark. Even daylight brought them no comfort, The Nazi soldiers twitched with fear at every shade down a side alley, every noise coming from a dead-end street.

They'd marched in as conquerors. Now they saw shotguns behind every door, and rifles behind every blade of grass. The SS had taken control, stormtroopers marched the streets and tanks clattered along at night, grinding cobblestone to chewed-up dust in their wakes. They'd locked down the city, secured every access point, guarded every depot.

There was no way any guerrilla army could survive. And it didn't, it *thrived.* Despite all their effort, despite everything they'd done, the bullets kept coming. Barely a day went by without a nazi breathing his last courtesy of a seven-nine-two spitzer.

They couldn't stop it because there was no army. There was just one girl. A girl on the edge of being a mother. A girl who would not let the twins growing in her womb know a world under nazi tyranny.

Anne walked the streets as best she could with her massive middle bulging her dress to its very limits. She felt ready to pop at any moment... then again the weight swelling her womb felt too heavy to bear for the past two months. Her clothes were almost comically small on her gravid frame, and every step was a throbbing reminder of the immense weight she carried. Those who glanced her way--many did, her massive belly broke up an otherwise startlingly slender figure--looked at her with pity or sympathy. Everyone suffered under the Nazis, she was hardly the first mother forced to make do with what clothe she had.

She was, however, the first mother to secret a silent British pistol under the swell of her middle.

She cradled her belly with both hands, both to reassure her growing twins that everything would be all right and to relieve some of the pressure against her taut skin. She was ready to give birth, she probably had been for the past several weeks. She woke up every day aching from the weight in her womb, and every step was a throbbing reminder of how very pregnant she'd become. But she would not let her twins know a world under the swastika and eagle. She would stay her womb, just one day more. She told herself that every morning, just one day more.

Slowly, a hand slipped from her belly to the package secured beneath it. The touch was ever so brief, but it sent a shiver up her spine. That hint of relief that she might so soon have. Soon, but not quite. She had one more mission to complete. One more at least.

The pistol slid from its makeshift sheath and into her hand like it was made to fit. She'd left a round in the chamber, all she had do was flick off the safety and spot her target. There, a stormtrooper trailing back at the end of his patrol.

She didn't smile, she hadn't in a year. But she moved with a casual purpose. She was nine months pregnant with twins, nobody could think a woman like her was any threat, could they? My, she could barely move from the weight distending her stomach and engorging her breasts. Surely she couldn't be a threat!

In one smooth motion, she brought her gun up, pressed it into the small of his back, and tore his spine apart with a single .32 bullet. A moment later, she shrieked in manufactured horror, and pointed her free hand down a deserted alleyway.

The stormtroopers, none of whom wanted to deal with a hysterical pregnant woman when the taste of finally catching the phantom army that'd been dogging them was in the air, bolted down the alleyway. Just as she'd hoped.

Step one was done. She'd taken her turn, now it was time for the Nazis to take theirs. If they played the game with the same oppressive dedication to brutal force above all else, they'd play right into her trap. But that would take time. A day, at least. She had to give the Germans time to dig their own graves. And that meant the hardest thing of all for her, waiting.

She secreted the pistol back where it came from, a shiver racing up her spine as the hot metal silencer kissed her tender flesh. She hated waiting. Waiting meant there was nothing for her to do but ponder her belly, she couldn't distract herself from the constant ache she'd learned to deal with, there was no way to get past the throbbing need she felt. She needed to give birth, any day now even her immense will wouldn't be enough to hold back her twins another second. She *needed* to give birth. She could feel twinges and hints of labor pulling at her already, but she forced herself to ignore them.

There wasn't time for that. Not now, not while *they* still ruled. But there was one thing she'd learned. A way to let the ache slip from her mind, if only for a moment. That one precious balm that soothed her aching belly and drove the nazis from her mind for a few precious moments.

She made her way home as quick as she could. Her massively swollen belly forced her into a comical waddle, and her heart beat a pounding thunder against her chest. She needed to get back, her body was throbbing with an overwhelming need for the one thing that'd eased her gravid aches.

You're busy zeroing one of her 'acquired' rifles when she comes through the door. Somehow, her massive bulging stomach is bigger than it was when she left this morning. Her skin's even tauter as she hurriedly tore open her comically small dress. Her naked belly and popped navel bulge like a larger imitation of her already engorged breasts.

"user," she straddles you. "I don't care if my water's about to break, I need it."

You're barely able to control her long enough to get off your chair and onto your back. She doesn't need to take much off. Even if she had a bra that fits, it wouldn't last long under her engorged bosom. There's no need for foreplay, the constant slosh of a womb strained to the very limit of it's capacity and well beyond that against her organs is enough for Anne, and just seeing the naked swell of a middle full of your children gets you the rest of the way. She knelt over you, straddling you with her massive belly resting against yours. It's heavy. You swear she gets heavier every time you come together, but as she grabs you with both hands, you suddenly don't care.

She could have a Tiger in her middle and it wouldn't matter, not with how you feel slipping in her tight slit. You sink into her as she rides you. A first slowly, she's so heavy she can barely manage more. But you get into her rhythm, working together against the Reich even as you work deeper into her sweet abyss. She's the first to moan, she's been bottling this all up all day. The thrill of the kill mingles with her natural hormones and drives her faster.

A moan from you now, it's all you can day. She's got you tight, each thrust driving your breakthrough deeper into her lines. She tries to contain your push, but her walls of flesh aren't strong enough to contain your lighting strokes. For almost half an hour the two of you are one. One body, one moaning flesh throbbing and dancing together. It'll be soon now, at least you hope. You've been telling yourself she's almost done for what feels like years, but she keeps finding ways to bring you closer.

Then you shudder, suddenly made of steel and gunpowder as you dump everything you have into her. She feels it too, a moan longer and higher than before purring through her lips. Her back arches and her eyes roll back. Then in a breath, it's finished.

She falls, exhausted and content at your side, and you brush a strand of hair from her sweaty face before resting your head against her breasts. Tomorrow, there will be the war, the nazis, and the resistance. But right now... it's just you and Anne.

Audrey Hepburn hands down is the most adorable woman we have evidence of

>ywn be a British para who meets 14 year old Audrey while shooting your way through Arnhem

feelsbadman

> wants to be a brit
> wants to meet audrey at 14

You've got degenerate written all over you

>wants to be a brit

I'm already a Brit by blood.

I am so sorry

Me too.

kek

Who wrote this?

One of the writefags from did it in an ATF registry thread

Hideous

her chin looks abnormal to me

She probably does look like a lot of drag queens.

...

Oh come now, /k/ did a better job with badass Anne Frank who savagely kills Nazis so her children can live in a world free of their tyranny is better than /mu/'s Anne Frank who is little more than a sexual object.

...

...

In the name of the humanity STOP

She's so fucking hot in Cleopatra

Grace Kelly

Rachel Leigh Cook

Fucking how