Succubus Christmas Special

by A. J. Markam

  I got an amazing view as Alaria’s pussy settled down over Sinterina’s mouth, and the young woman’s tongue slid up inside her.

  “Ohhhh… oh, that’s good,” Alaria moaned. “Take your tongue out and lick me… yes… a little higher… a little higher… OH GODDESS, YES…”

  I kept pumping as fast as I could, my thighs slapping against Sinterina’s ass. I stared, hypnotized, unable to choose between watching her small, firm breasts jiggling on her chest, or watching her eat out Alaria.

  Sinterina whimpered and moaned with every thrust as she eagerly lapped at Alaria’s clit.

  “Can you keep doing what you’re doing, but put two fingers inside me?” Alaria asked.

  Sinterina slowly eased two fingers between Alaria’s lips.

  “Oh Goddess, YES… now curl your fingers towards you… keep licking, keep – oh, yes… curl your fingers like you’re saying ‘come here’… mm-hmm, that’s it… that’s… oh… oh Goddess… now suck my clit… suck it like you did my nipple earlier… OH GODDESS – YES – KEEP STROKING INSIDE ME – OH GODDESS – OH FUCK – OH FUCK – ”

  Alaria’s thighs began to twitch and flutter, and her tail whipped back and forth in a frenzy.

  Sinterina, too, was moaning louder and louder, although her cries were muffled with Alaria’s clit in her mouth.

  “FUCK – FUCK – OH GODDESSSSSS!” Alaria screamed out, and suddenly a stream of hot liquid sprayed across Sinterina’s breasts.

  Alaria had squirted.

  It must have pushed Sinterina over the edge, because I heard her scream, and then her pussy was contracting around my shaft as her entire body writhed in orgasm.

  “OH FUCK!” I roared, and came inside Sinterina, spasm after spasm jetting deep within her.

  Then the three of us collapsed in a heap of sweaty bodies.

  I kissed Sinterina for the first time. I could taste the cinnamon and vanilla of Alaria on her lips – but beneath that, she tasted like honeysuckle. I couldn’t get enough as I squeezed her breasts, still wet with Alaria’s squirting.

  Alaria joined in, and Sinterina kissed us one at a time. All of us caressed each other’s bodies, never wanting to come down from our orgasmic high.

  11

  After ten minutes of basking in the afterglow, though, it was time to get back to business. There was a flying baby to save, after all.

  I guess that I should have saved the flying baby first, then had sex, but… whatever. I’d been pretty sure he’d be okay for another hour.

  Besides, I’ll take a beautiful naked chick over magical cheese any day.

  As we quickly got dressed, Alaria asked Sinterina, “Why do you think your husband kidnapped Baby Zeebus?”

  “I don’t know, other than he absolutely despises Zeebusmas.”

  “Ha – hear that, Ian?” Alaria joked. “Sinter’s just like you.”

  Sinterina turned to me, her eyes wide. “You hate Zeebusmas?”

  “NO,” I said crossly, “I hate Christmas.”

  Sinterina frowned. “What is Christmas?”

  “It’s a holiday where I come from.”

  “It’s copied from Zeebusmas,” Alaria explained.

  “No, it’s NOT,” I said.

  Alaria scoffed. “There’s a baby who was born in an outhouse with pigs and weasels, who was visited by a bunch of dwarves who heard about his birth from demons, and three elves came bearing gold, frankincense, and myrrh.”

  She had gotten every single detail wrong except for the wise men’s gifts, and that was only because that’s what the wise whoever had brought Baby Zeebus in OtherWorld.

  “But – that’s almost a direct copy of Zeebusmas!” Sinterina exclaimed.

  Oh Jesus.

  Ha – literally.

  Alaria smirked. “And listen to this: the baby was born from a virgin.”

  Sinterina looked like somebody had just told her poop could be spun into gold. “What?!”

  “Yup. Right, Ian?”

  “You came from Hell and can cast fireballs, and you have a problem with thinking a virgin can get magically pregnant?”

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “Because it’s IMPOSSIBLE,” Sinterina said, like she was explaining something to the slow kid in class.

  “But flying golden babies are real,” I said sarcastically.

  “Baby Zeebus is.”

  Shit.

  She kind of had me there.

  “This baby god of yours… what is his name?” Sinterina asked.

  “Jesus.”

  “What?!” Alaria exclaimed. “That’s Jesus?!”

  I looked at her in surprise. “You know about Jesus?”

  “Only that you say his name whenever you get angry.”

  Oh.

  Oh, yeah.

  Alaria turned to Sinterina. “This ‘Jesus’ must be a god of anger.”

  “Ohhhh,” Sinterina murmured.

  “NO! It’s – it’s like you saying ‘Goddess’ when you’re mad! I’m just using his name as a… uh…”

  “A curse?” Alaria suggested.

  Ugh.

  “…yeah,” I admitted. “I guess.”

  “You shouldn’t do that,” Alaria said somberly. “He’s a baby.”

  “He grew up!” I protested. “Besides, you say ‘Goddess’ all the time when you’re mad!”

  “Yes, but which one?”

  Okay, that was actually a good point. There were probably dozens, if not hundreds of goddesses in OtherWorld. We’d actually already encountered one face-to-face when we –

  …long story. Some other time.

  “As long as I don’t use a particular goddess’s name, I’m safe. They don’t know which one I’m talking about, so they won’t smite me with lightning,” Alaria said smugly. Then she added in a serious voice, “But I would NEVER use a baby god’s name as a curse.”

  “HE GREW UP!”

  “What happened to him?” Sinterina asked.

  “Uh… he, uh, got crucified…”

  “What’s that?”

  “They nailed him to a tree, basically.”

  “Oh MY!” Sinterina gasped.

  “No wonder he’s angry,” Alaria murmured.

  “But he came back to life!” I protested.

  Alaria shrugged. “So? You do it all the time.”

  Shit.

  She had me again.

  Every time I got killed inside the game, I resurrected in the nearest graveyard.

  Videogame miracles sort of had a way of stealing the thunder from religion.

  “Poor baby god,” Sinterina said. “People abuse his name all the time, he got nailed to a tree – no wonder he is a god of anger.”

  “Jesus is not a god of anger!” I yelled – then paused and thought about it some more. “Well, actually, if you listen to some of the people on Fox News, you wouldn’t necessarily know that…”

  “A fox tells news?” Sinterina asked, astounded.

  “Ian comes from a very strange land,” Alaria explained.

  “How do you celebrate this angry baby’s birthday?” Sinterina asked.

  “We decorate a tree – ”

  “Like the one he was nailed to?”

  “NO. And then we put presents underneath the tree – ”

  “For the baby?”

  “No, for each other.”

  “The baby doesn’t get any of the presents?” Sinterina asked, dumbfounded.

  “No!”

  “No wonder he’s angry.”

  “He’s not – ”

  “Who are the presents for?” Alaria interrupted.

  “For people in your family. And people you love.”

  I didn’t add, They’re not always one and the same.

  Sinterina threw her hands up in the air. “No wonder the baby is angry! Everyone steals his presents!”

  “NO, HE’S – ”

  “Wait – so each person gets one present?” Alaria asked.

  “No, not necessarily.”

  Alaria’s
eyes widened. “Each person gets multiple presents?!”

  “Yeah, usually.”

  “Wait – the more you love a person, do you give her more presents?”

  Depends on your paycheck.

  “…yeah? I guess?”

  Sinterina frowned. “How odd… on Zeebusmas, people only get cheese.”

  “Explain this to me,” Alaria said, and ticked off examples on her fingers one by one. “You have a holy day… for a baby god’s birthday… you get multiple presents… and yet you hate all of it. WHY, in Goddess’ name?”

  “Because it always sucked!” I snapped. “Because my parents got divorced when I was eight and I never saw my dad again at Christmas because he was always off with his secretary, who he cheated on my mom with, and the kids they had! And my mom was bitter and depressed, and my dad skipped out on child support payments so there wasn’t any money, and the only presents I ever got were clothes while all my friends got everything they wanted! And not only did my dad not send any fucking presents, I was lucky if I got a phone call! You want to know why I hate it? Because every Christmas since I was eight, I came downstairs to a bunch of underwear and crappy presents and had to listen to my mom cry and curse my dad all day long while she got drunk on cheap wine! THAT’S why I hate Christmas!”

  Silence.

  “Oh,” Alaria said quietly.

  More silence.

  “But that wasn’t your baby god’s fault,” Sinterina pointed out.

  “I DIDN’T SAY IT WAS!”

  Both women just stood there staring at me awkwardly.

  I forced myself to calm down and sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to blow up at you. Let’s just go save this baby and get some fuckin’ cheese, okay?”

  “Okay,” Sinterina said hurriedly.

  “Works for me,” Alaria agreed.

  As we left the room, nobody mentioned Christmas – or Zeebusmas – again.

  12

  Sinterina led us downstairs to a side door, and we ran through another covered walkway as the wind howled outside.

  We reached the stables in just under a minute. Even without the visuals, I could tell from the sweet smell of hay.

  This was unlike any stables I had ever seen before, though.

  Sure, there were wooden stalls on both sides of the massive room – filled with reindeer munching from their feed.

  There was also tons of tackle hanging on the walls – black leather harnesses and bridles sparkling with tiny silver bells.

  Not to mention a sleigh sitting on a ramp that led to two closed bay doors at the far end of the building. The sleigh was huge – twelve feet long and six feet high, with steel runners and two rows of bench seats big enough for at least eight people. Everything was done up in black leather – sort of like ‘Santa’s S&M sleigh.’

  That part was odd, but at least a sleigh belonged in a stable… I guess.

  However, I’d never seen stables with a roaring fire in the middle of it. There was a stone pit and a sort of quasi chimney supported by four six-foot-tall columns, but it was open on all sides so that the heat could radiate outwards. The flames illuminated everything around us, including the wooden rafters over our heads – although the flickering light couldn’t quite penetrate the darkness of the extremely high ceiling above.

  I’d also never seen a five-foot-tall iron cage in a stable before.

  Especially not one with a golden, flying baby inside.

  Ho-leeee shit.

  Little Baby Zeebus.

  He looked to be about nine months old, and was dressed only in a diaper. His skin looked like he’d rolled around in a pile of gold dust, and he emanated a soft yellow glow.

  If he was distressed to be trapped inside a cage, he sure didn’t show it. He just swooped around doing loop-de-loops in the air, giggling at every turn and going, “Wheeee!”

  Seriously, he was the happiest fucking baby I’d ever seen. He put the Gerber kid to shame.

  “Whoa,” I murmured.

  I mean, I’d heard about him, but some part of me hadn’t expected him to be real. After all, I’d heard about Baby Jesus all my life, too, but I’d never seen him anywhere other than bad plastic Nativity scenes.

  “That’s him!” Alaria cried out. “Come on, let’s get him – ”

  The sound of iron chains suddenly rattled overhead –

  CLA-CLA-CLA-CLA-CLANK

  – and another giant cage slammed down around me and Alaria.

  BOOM!

  I stepped back in shock, then grabbed the iron bars. They were – well, iron bars. Cold. Solid. Immovable.

  “What the fuck?!”

  “Ian, there’s a baby present,” Alaria whispered harshly.

  “Sorry,” I said, then realized how ridiculous it was to be apologizing to a sex demoness about cursing in front of a videogame toddler.

  I looked around and saw Sinterina standing by a wooden support beam, a smirk on her face and her hand on a mechanical lever.

  “Daaaaarrrrling,” she cooed, “I have something fooooooor yoooouuu.”

  …awww SHIT.

  We’d been played.

  “WHAT IS IT, MY PET?” a deep voice rumbled, and from out of the shadows stepped Sinter Klaws.

  He was even more frightening up close – a giant Frankenstein’s monster of a man, stooped like a hunchback but muscled like an NFL lineman. His ping-pong bug eyes darted back and forth like a tweaker’s on a three-day binge. His yellow fangs glinted in the firelight, and his clawed fingers twitched in the air like he was playing an invisible piano.

  Freaky.

  Although he did look faintly ridiculous in his tattered, grimy, hobo Santa Claus suit.

  “A gift,” Sinterina giggled evilly.

  Gone was the innocent little flower, replaced instead with a smirking Jezebel.

  “You bitch!” I seethed.

  Sinterina just laughed as her husband lurched over to her.

  I looked at Alaria. She didn’t seem to be shocked at all. In fact, she seemed to be bored.

  “Why aren’t you pissed?!” I asked.

  “Why should I be?”

  “She lied to us! She told us that story about all the horrible things he did to her, but she was working for him all along!”

  “Ohhhhh, that. I knew she was evil all along.”

  “WHAT?!”

  “Oh, yeah. Nobody’s that hot and that innocent all rolled into one.”

  Sinter Klaws, meanwhile, had reached his wife, and he lowered his face down to hers.

  “IS IT TRUE? HAVE I DONE HORRIBLE THINGS TO YOU?” he chuckled.

  “Mmmm,” Sinterina smiled lasciviously. “Every night, darling.”

  And then they kissed.

  Not a demure kiss, either.

  A big, sloppy, tongues-out-of-their-mouths French kiss.

  You ever been to a club or bar at closing time, and two drunk people are making out, but it’s more like they’re licking and drooling all over each other’s faces?

  Yeah, it was like that.

  EW.

  Even worse, Sinter Klaws’s tongue was like a giant grey slug violating Sinterina’s tiny ruby lips.

  EWWW.

  Jesus – and to think I’d been kissing that same mouth just 15 minutes ago.

  EWWWWWWW.

  “If you knew she was evil, why’d you sleep with her, then?!” I hissed at Alaria.

  My succubus made a face like Are you KIDDING me? “Did you see that body? I had to hit her.”

  I grimaced. Alaria hadn’t quite gotten the hang of some of my slang.

  “It’s ‘hit THAT,’” I said. “‘I’d hit that.’ Not ‘hit her.’ Hit THAT.”

  Sinter Klaws whirled around towards us. “WHAT?! YOU HIT HER?!”

  “No, ugly, we just fucked her brains out,” Alaria said, then winced apologetically at Baby Zeebus. “Sorry.”

  “Wheeeee!” was all he said as he did another figure eight in the air.

  Sinter Klaws whipped back over to his wife. “IS T
HIS TRUE?! DID THEY DO WHAT THE DEMONESS JUST SAID?!”

  Sinterina smiled. “Yes.”

  Sinter Klaws got right up into her face. “YOU LET THEM DEFILE YOU?!”

  “Yes.”

  Sinter Klaws bared his fangs. “DID YOU FUCK THE FEMALE?!”

  “Not only did I eat her out, but she squirted all over me,” Sinterina purred, and rubbed her hands over her breasts.

  I stared in confusion.

  Um… what the hell was going on?

  Sinter Klaws leaned so close that I thought he might bite her face off. “AND YOU – YOU LET THE MALE PUT HIS THING BETWEEN YOUR LEGS?!”

  “Not only that,” Sinterina moaned, “I let him come inside me.”

  Sinter Klaws grabbed her savagely by the arms with his giant, clawed fists.

  “WHEN NEXT WE LIE TOGETHER, YOU MUST TELL ME EVERYTHING!” he laughed, and then proceeded to make out with her even more sloppily.

  EWWWWWWWWWW!

  “You know,” Alaria said to me, “we could have an arrangement like that.”

  “NO, we CAN’T.”

  “What? They’re just freaky.”

  “That’s not freaky, that’s DISGUSTING,” I gagged.

  Sinter Klaws broke off from playing tonsil hockey with his wife and roared, “DISGUSTING?! YOUR ADORATION OF THIS SNIVELLING INFANT IS THE DISGUSTING PART!”

  The insult didn’t bother Baby Zeebus. He just went “Wheeeee!” and somersaulted in the air.

  “You’re an idiot,” I sneered. “I don’t even LIKE Christmas.”

  “Zeebusmas,” Alaria and Sinterina said at the same time.

  “WHATEVER!” I yelled at them.

  Sinter Klaws looked confused. “WHAT IS ‘CHRISTMAS’?”

  His wife waved dismissively. “It involves talking foxes and nailing babies to trees.”

  “What?!” I yelled. “No it doesn’t!”

  “AHHHH, THAT SOUNDS LIKE MY KIND OF HOLY DAY.” Sinter pounded his fist against a big red button on a control panel. “NOW WITNESS THE TERROR I SHALL UNLEASH ON THIS PULING INFANT’S DAY OF BIRTH!”

  A side door opened up, and the female gnomes from earlier started walking in. They were still only wearing their granny panties and bras. Not that I could see much, thank God – they were all carrying one of those bowling balls from their work tables.

  “WHY IN ZARTOK’S NAME ARE YOU UNDRESSED?” Sinter growled at the female gnomes.