by Kane Jewell Ruse McCall Anthony McKay Sax Slayer Michael Burke Logan
Henry suddenly remembered the other magic he’d installed with the doll. Attitude Plus. Inhibitions zero. “Uhm, Santa? You might want to reconsider…”
“Shut up, Henry,” Mr. and Mrs. Claus said in tandem, their eyes locked on one another.
Mrs. Claus turned toward the door, her deliciously shaped ass outlined in smooth black leather. She walked away in the fuck-me-heeled boots as if born to lead, striding forward with a swinging gait as the leather skirt danced around the top of her dimpled thighs. She turned the lock on the Committee door with a quiet snick.
Surveying the room, she snapped the whip again to get the Committee’s attention.
“You Elves, grab that chair and put it right there in the center of the room.” She settled in and spread her legs over the padded arms. “Santa, you get to come down the chimney every Christmas. Now it’s my turn to come. On your knees and eat me. Make it good. You have years to make up for.”
Santa dove in with gusto, until the only thing left showing from between her quivering thighs was his trademark red hat. His very pronounced cock poked out from the front of his red velvet pants, and Mrs. Claus’ booted feet rose in the air, kicking to emphasize her very vocal approval of Santa’s oral technique.
The rest of the Approval Committee lined up their chairs behind the table where they could watch the show, their hands down their Elven pants, furiously stroking or frigging themselves. Henry wouldn’t have been surprised to see scoring paddles marked 10 held up by each and every Elf if their hands hadn’t been so busy. Still, Mrs. Claus likely would have confiscated the paddles for their pleasurable punishment after she was done with Santa.
As if that weren’t enough to permanently etch his name on the Naughty List, a very large purple dildo suddenly rolled out of the sack on the table in front of the Committee. It landed with a sparkling plop on the floor and started a wickedly sensual solo dance. The charmed instrument writhed and twirled, leaning in turn toward each of the occupants in the room. It stopped with a quiver when it pointed toward Santa.
Oh God, not the Pulsing Purple People Pleaser!
Henry felt the magic he’d created swirling, building strength as the dildo squatted down, widening at the base. It started pulsing up and down, the thickness throbbing with magic as it gathered, spring-like.
“Santa! Watch out!”
He watched in horror as Santa lifted his face from between Mrs. Claus’ thighs, his beard drenched with her juices, and looked up at his wife. She opened her eyes at Henry’s yell, and saw the purple prick behind her husband leap into the air as if shot from a canon, aiming straight for the flip side of Santa’s lap, where the good boys and girls were never invited to sit.
Red velvet trousers proved little protection against a Pulsing Purple People Pleaser when it spotted its intended target. The thing attacked Santa with no warning, no lube, and no preparation, and Old Saint Nick found his ass implanted with a squirming, pulsing beast of a purple thing that had no intention of removing itself until the recipient found pleasure.
The shock and forceful implantation propelled Santa forward, plunging his hard cock into his very hot, very willing wife’s leather-encased creamy Christmas pudding. The vibrating enthusiasm and pressure from the PPPP lent Santa the extra oomph Mrs. Claus had apparently been searching for, as her heels again kicked for the sky and she squirted her juices around Santa’s cock, drenching the adjustable chair beyond repair.
The PPPP sensed Santa was close and pulsed even harder, sending him over the edge to add his protein to the special Christmas pudding mix when he shot his seed deep inside his wife.
The Committee approved the Christmas pudding on all sides, shooting streams of whipped Elven cream over the table in their enthusiasm. Henry left the Committee room to wait at his desk, confident that his new inventions would be the talk of the Toy Shoppe and first in line to board the sleigh this coming Christmas.
Within hours, a junior delivery Elf dropped an official-looking letter on the desk in front of him. Henry’s hand shook as he picked it up, the gold seal on the back marked “Official Elf Correspondence.” It must be from the Approval Committee.
He slipped a finger under the flap of the envelope to open it. “Damn!” He popped his bleeding finger in his mouth. Paper cuts hurt like hell. He scanned the enclosed letter, his heart racing as he anticipated the demand for his new adult toys.
PETITION DENIED.
Christmas is for children.
Your toys are disgusting and rude, and the magic didn’t work correctly.
Santa and Mrs. Claus are filing charges against you.
Clear out your locker immediately.
As he walked down the hall to his locker, the whispers started. Elves were horrible at keeping secrets, and the Approval Committee had apparently leaked some very key, very detailed information about the not-so-secret meeting.
Santa wasn’t pleased, no matter what the dildo’s packaging promised. After Henry left, the old man had fought the purple beast for at least twenty minutes, much to the amusement of his wife and the Approval Committee.
So Henry found himself without a job, Santa found himself with a sore ass, and from what he’d heard in the hallways, Mrs. Claus dragged Santa home from the meeting and found a little more joy in her knickers. Some of the Elves said they saw her tuck the Pulsing Purple People Pleaser into her leather corset before they left, but the official report said it was confiscated by the Toy Soldiers as evidence, awaiting the Inquest.
Henry packed his gear. Since December was always the busy season, he figured he had until the New Year to prove himself… or die trying.
Bringing joy into a lonely human’s life with his special magic would surely be a good start to redeeming himself.
If he didn’t screw it up, that is.
* * *
Click!
Henry heard a key work one of the multitude of locks on the front door of the human’s house. Damn! She wasn’t supposed to be home for a couple of hours yet. He’d watched her schedule closely the past few days and thought he had timed this perfectly. The rattle of another lock had him scrambling for cover.
He scrunched his face tight in concentration and shoved his pinkie in his ear, grabbed his ass, twirled around to the left twice and crashed into the kitchen table.
“Damn human world! Magic never works right here.” He stood up and tried it again, turning the other direction this time. He disappeared from view just as the door opened.
“Who’s there? I’m a trained ninja, I’m armed with an Uzi and I’ve already called the cops!” A woman’s trembling hand reached through and flipped the light switch, bathing the apartment in the blinding light of a bare bulb on the ceiling. She peeked through, then backed away and dialed the police.
* * *
“Okay, lady. You expect us to believe someone’s been watching you for days, and then broke into your crappy ass apartment without touching any of your gazillion locks they could bypass just by kicking in the cardboard door, and didn’t take anything?”
The beat cop’s nasal tone sounded just like his flat-nosed face looked -- like he’d been chasing parked cars for a living, and was damned good at catching them -- with his face.
Abby nodded, finally feeling justified. She was right; she had been under surveillance. She wasn’t just feeling weird in a new place.
“Not that it looks like you’d have anything worth taking, but all they broke in to do was decorate your place for Christmas?” Flat-nose shook his head as the other cop returned from checking out the apartment.
“Look, Ms. Thomas, we checked everything. There’s nobody here, and there was no forced entry. Maybe one of your neighbors has a key and decided to do something nice for you for Christmas. Just relax and enjoy your holiday décor.”
The asshole and his partner left, chuckling about Santa’s demented Elves breaking in all over Chicago on Christmas Eve, putting bad decorators out of business.
“So much for the holiday spirit.”
Abby closed the door behind them, locking each and every one of the six locks she’d installed the day she moved in here. Her hands shook as she settled the last chain in place.
She took refuge in the questionable safety of the kitchen as she nuked her dinner, keeping watch for the intruder’s return. Both the window area and front door remained silent and closed.
Over the plastic smell coming from the microwave, Abby smelled the fresh scent of pine, and felt the soft, frost-bitten breeze of a snow covered mountain slope coming from the window of the little dining nook where the new decorations hung. But of course, neither was possible here in the city. She checked the window again, just to make sure she’d closed it properly. The breeze rustled her hair, sending a shiver across the back of her neck.
“Yeah, right. Maybe I’m as loony as those cops think I am. I’m probably just working too much.” Still, she felt the crawling unease of being watched. “It’s probably just because someone else was in the apartment. I’m sure it’s fine.”
Inhaling yet another breath of the bracing air, she threw the empty plastic container away and stumbled off to the bedroom. At least the restaurant was closed for the next two days. Apparently even Jesus Hernandez Martinez ‘Bubba’ Rosenburg took time off for the holidays.
Chapter Two
Henry peered out from behind a cup on Abby’s bedroom dresser, one that held mismatched earrings and shiny rocks and all the girly do-dads she’d collected over the years.
A well-worn letter in a torn, hand-written envelope stuck out from underneath a gaily-painted tray, shoved there as if hidden in a moment of frustration. Curious, Henry eased it out, pausing when the woman’s light snore echoed from the bed. He read the short note in the light from the window.
Abby, it’s over. I’ll be spending Christmas with my new girlfriend.
Sorry for the short notice.
Reid.
It was dated December 24th, two years ago.
“Damn, that was harsh. Merry fucking Christmas.” Henry dropped the letter and looked around, enjoying his new tiny size and comparing his working parts, in true manly fashion, to objects around him. Unfortunately, having a large penis in comparison to a pushpin wasn’t very good for his ego, so he jumped down and zapped himself back to his normal size.
Looking for anything to indicate there was a man in her life; he checked the bathroom and the closet. After reading the letter, he suspected there probably wasn’t, but better to be sure.
A dusty box of condoms and an abandoned container of birth control pills were the only evidence of a sex life he came up with, other than a well-read magazine full of muscled men in tiny thongs that didn’t even cover their asses.
Curious. Human men were clearly built different than Elves. From what he could see, those thongs wouldn’t hold anything big enough to keep a gnat happy, but to each their own. She seemed to like what she saw in the magazine, so that was good enough for him.
“She’s even lonelier than I am. She can definitely use some of my purple Christmas magic. Making her happy should score well for me getting back to the North Pole.”
He headed for the dining nook and did a big purple whammy on the socks. Surely the magic would work right this time. After all, he wasn’t including the Pulsating Purple People Pleaser, or the Anatomically Correct but Politically Incorrect Mistress Matilda statue in this woman’s Christmas stockings. Those both needed more work before they were ready to try out on the public again.
This, now… this was just a little innocent magic to help a lonely girl for Christmas. His special stocking stuffers would fulfill her every desire and she’d be happy again.
With his pinkie in his ear, a grab of his ass and an awkward double twirl to the right, he vanished from sight before the pedestrian whistling for a cab outside woke her.
* * *
Abby stumbled into the kitchen for a drink without bothering to turn the lights on. The ambient glow from the streetlight was usually enough for her to find her way. Yet tonight, the glow was absent.
Maybe it’s cloudy outside.
She felt her way along the wall and crossed the dining room toward the kitchen, only to run into a solid wall where there shouldn’t be one. Abby stuck out her hands, and felt… skin. Warm, solid, muscled, skin, dusted with hair. Male skin.
She screamed, prompting another warm, solid, muscled male body to slide behind her, his hand gently covering her mouth. She was bracketed by them in an almost naked Abby sandwich.
No way, Jose! I’ve seen this kind of movie too many times. I’m not gonna end up on the wrong side of a slasher film with screeching music after letting some strangers feel me up.
The man in front of her framed her face with his hands as if he wanted to kiss her, so she placed her palms on either side of his waist as he drew near, pulling him just a little bit closer.
Thud!
The guy in front of her went down with a whimper, her sharp knee right on target. She flung her head back toward the man behind her, hoping he was close enough and short enough for her skull to hit him in the face.
She was correct on both guesses, and the second man went down. Abby ran for her cell phone and the front door, dialing 9-1-1 as she fumbled with the locks.
The phone went dead. Dropping the useless thing, she undid four of the locks by feel before she heard the men stirring. She shot a glance behind her and doubled her efforts, only to find all the locks re-secured when she turned the light on. “Holy crap! What the hell is going on?” I know I undid those locks. I’ve done it a thousand times.
“We’re your Christmas presents, Abby.” A man’s pained voice sounded from the bodies she’d left near the kitchen.
Abby turned toward them after glancing again at the dead cell phone. The locks, she couldn’t explain.
The men rose shakily, helping each other up. Two nearly identical “steaming hot, muscled hunks of love,” her girlfriends at work would call them. She could easily imagine her friends pushing each other out of the way to shove crisp dollar bills down the men’s tight, brightly colored little thongs.
Thongs in Chicago in December? Oh no. “Uhm… you said you were my Christmas presents?”
They nodded in tandem.
“Did Mandy and Kim send you? I told them not to get me anything for Christmas, damn it!”
The men shrugged, and the one with the bloodied nose pulled a towel away from his face. “We don’t know who sent us, Abby, just that we’re here to grant your every desire.”
“Great. How about you start by cleaning the bathroom? I hate doing that. Or are you strictly the dancing and dollar bill type?”
They glanced at each other in confusion, and she groaned when their eyes widened in obvious interest while they checked each other out. She had to admit, her friends definitely had good taste in eye candy. Completely delicious, from the top of their heads, past their broad, muscled chests, ripped abs, over their miniscule thongs, down their perfectly sculpted legs, and all the way down to their feet. One of which, on each man, was covered in an odd sock that looked suspiciously like the ones from her window sill.
She sighed in disappointment as they completely ignored her for each other. “The bathroom’s that way, guys.” She pointed down the hall, and strode into the bedroom to dress and down a couple of aspirin for the pounding headache she felt starting. “Just my luck. Two gorgeous men at my beck and call, bought and paid for… and they’re gay. Figures.” She shut the door on her fantasies and changed into her sweats.
* * *
“Oh yeah, shove it in there! Harder! Harder!”
The enthusiastic shout coming from her bathroom had Abby rushing to finish dressing. No way. No fucking way! They couldn’t be… not in her bathroom!
“Wait, it’s too tight.” The other voice sounded strained, panting hard. “I don’t think it’s going to fit -- oh, there it goes!” A disgusting sound squirted wetly, the sound coming faster and faster as the men cheered themselves on, breathing harder and harder.
<
br /> “Who knew there would be so much suction?”
“Damn, it’s kind of dirty, don’t you think?”
She stood outside the bathroom door, hesitating. It was swung closed, but not entirely shut. Just a little push, and it would swing open wider…
No, that would be disturbing their privacy.
Still unsure, she nudged the door with her foot. Oops. She peeked through the slight gap in the door, feeling kind of naughty, but ready for a little man-on-man action to liven up her Christmas Eve.
The two men stood in front of the toilet, scrub brush settled firmly in the water. The guy with the left stocking on enthusiastically worked the brush up and down in the toilet like a plumber gone rogue. Right-stocking cheered him on, his hand on Lefty’s upper back, as if to urge him to go faster.
What the hell?
Abby’s eyes widened when Lefty finished his pumping and stripped off his thong, exposing his nicely toned ass, to head for the shower. Mr. Right-stocking stared down at Lefty’s groin in surprise.
“Well, staple my belly button! What do you think is supposed to go there? Were there extra parts left in the stocking or did you forget to read the instructions?” He looked down the front of his own thong, and then bent to take it off, too.
Abby cursed the door blocking her view. Whoa, that’s enough. Those two can play their weird little bathroom games all they want. I need some chocolate, and I need it now.
Abby aimed for the kitchen, her target: the back of the freezer, where she’d stashed the decadent tub of deep, dark chocolate ice cream filled with nuts and all sorts of sinful goodies. Today, she deserved it. A girl can only take so much, after all.
Abby settled at the little table with a spoon and the entire tub of ice cream. Digging in for a huge scoop, she made it halfway to her mouth when the strange sight before her negated any calming effect the ice cream promised.
