Prelude to Space Rape! & Other Stories

by Jordan Krall

  What is that?

  Santa racked his brain trying to identify the sound. First he thought it might be the reins of the reindeer but that was more of a slap-slap sound, not a clip-clop. Then he thought it might be horse hooves but that didn’t seem right. As the clip-clop sound got louder and louder, he finally identified it.

  High heels.

  The clip-clop sound ceased and was followed by a click. Bright lights shocked Santa and he found himself looking at the woman’s hips, tightly hugged by her business suit. “What did you do to me?” he said.

  The woman crouched down so she was face to face with him. “I made you eat my pussy. Is your memory that bad?” Santa shook his head and looked around. He was lying on a bed made of a dark red substance that did resemble the taffy it felt like. It didn’t look edible, though. There was an odd metallic look to it as if it were robot puke. “Why?” he said.

  She laughed. “Why did I make you eat my pussy? Oh my, that’s a simple question. It’s because I wanted my pussy eaten. I wanted to have an orgasm. What other reason would there be? You think maybe I thought the Easter Bunny lived inside my twat and wanted you to speak to him?”

  “Who are you?” Santa said, intentionally ignoring her question. If he was going to get some answers, he had to be stern.

  “Well, that’s a tough one, dear oh dear, as people call me

  different things depending on............ ” She rolled her eyes.

  “Well, whatever. You can call me Kay.”

  When Santa had asked the question, he hadn’t really wanted to know her name as much as what the fuck she was doing to him. “What now?”

  Kay laughed. “You want to leave, dearie? Really? Just think about that. Examine your feelings for five minutes and then I’ll come back and you tell me if you really want to leave. Okay?”

  With more clip-clopping, Kay left the room, shutting the lights off as she did. Santa was left in the dark again. This time, however, he had something to think about. Did he really consider his situation a negative one? After all, he wasn’t looking forward to finishing his Christmas route. This was a perfect excuse. He’d been fucking abducted. Who could blame him for not delivering the last batch of toys?

  But was it really a kidnapping if he was being given the choice to leave?

  Anyway, his wife wouldn’t understand. She’d probably think he staged the whole thing just to get laid.

  But there was one big problem. Despite her beauty, sex appeal, and those glorious, glorious breasts, this Kay woman seemed dangerous. Santa wasn’t going to trust that she wasn’t going to hurt him. Magnificent cleavage aside, she could very well be the death of him.

  His lips were still burning from Kay’s peppermint snatch juice and he wondered if it had been poisoned. Maybe that was the plan. She’d let him take five minutes to think about staying while the poison coursed through his body, getting him closer and closer to death by cunnilingus.

  Santa decided he’d take his chances with Kay. He still loved his wife Diana but he just couldn’t see himself walking away from this new woman without experiencing something worse.

  If that meant Diana divorcing him, then he’d have to take that chance.

  VIII.

  Aleph nodded to the elf in front of him and then said, “Anything new?’

  “After observing the subject following a woman to her house, which you have pictures of, he proceeded to perform oral sex on her,” Simon said. He was nervous because Aleph was the top guy in the unit and was talking directly to him. “We have a video link up so we’ll be able to show the subject’s wife.”

  “Okay, good,” Aleph said. “But let’s cut the shit. You can call him Mr. Claus and his wife Mrs. Claus. Sometimes the professionalism wears a little thin.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Mrs. Claus is leaning towards termination of her husband so once she signs the papers, it’s a go.”

  “Did she say how she wanted it done?”

  Aleph shook his head. “No, but in most cases, the wives don’t usually bring that up. I’ll give her a few choices. I imagine she’ll probably just tell me to make it quick, but to also let him know why it’s happening.”

  “And the mystery woman?”

  “I have to think about that. There’s something strange about her and I’d like to investigate further before we do anything rash. But if she gets in the way, I will not hesitate to give the order for termination. We can’t afford another slip-up like last year.”

  Simon gulped. “You mean St. Petersburg?”

  “Yeah,” Aleph said. “If that happens again, we’re all fucked. You’ll be fired and I’ll be licking the pecker snot off the floor of the Yuletide whorehouses. I’m not doing that.” Aleph turned and started to the door. “Never again.”

  IX.

  Santa woke up and realized that he had been moved out of the taffy bed.

  He was now lying on his back, his head enclosed in a wooden box. There was a round hole on top covered with black silk. The whole thing sort of looked familiar to him. What did it remind him of?

  Oh yeah. A toilet.

  He tried moving his arms and legs but found them dead. I’m trapped in a fucking toilet.

  Through the wooden box, he heard the clip-clop of Kay’s high heels. Here she comes again, coming to continue her sexy torture.

  Clip-Clop. Clip-Clop.

  She was getting closer.

  CLIP-clop.

  She was only a few feet of way.

  CLIP-CLOP. CLIP-CLOP.

  Then another sound: Kay clearing her throat.

  Santa squinted when the black silk was moved. Through the squinting, Kay’s face appeared above the hole, like an angel framed by a halo. His eyes moved to her stunning cleavage.

  Then Kay smirked, cleared her throat a little more, and then spat on his face. The gob of phlegm splattered against his nose, clogging his nostrils.

  “Rise and shine, honey bunch,” she said. “I hope you appreciate my morning throat-jelly.” Kay cleared her throat again and spat onto Santa’s lips. “Taste good?”

  Santa tried moving his face to get the mess off him but to no avail.

  Kay said, “I know you’re probably worried about not being able to move your arms and legs and I’m real sorry I had to do that. It’s temporary or at least it should be. I used some venom I took out of the black belly of a tarantula and it’s usually pretty harmless in the long run. Usually.”

  Santa felt weird talking to her while his head was trapped in the wooden box but he said, “Where am I? What are you doing to me?” Her loogie dripped from his lips into his mouth and Santa swallowed reluctantly. It tasted like gooey mint-flavored jam.

  “The answer to your first question, well, you’re in my bitch-box. I suppose your next question would be ‘what’s a bitch-box?’ so I guess I’ll answer that one, too. A bitch- box is a box where I keep my bitches. And you’re my bitch now. And to answer your other question, about what I’m going to do to you.. .I’ll let you figure that one out. I’ll just have a seat while you think about it.”

  And with that, Kay moved her face away from the hole and stood up. She pulled up her skirt, pulled down her pantyhose, and placed her pale, plump ass onto the hole, blocking out the light and giving Santa an intimate view of her anus.

  Goddamn, you’re kidding me, right?

  He stared at her brown pucker, hoping to somehow get her off the box using only his willpower.

  But then her anus winked at him.

  “Time’s up,” Kay said.

  Santa’s throat constricted. He closed his eyes.

  Oh no. No. No. No.

  X.

  It only took Aleph a half hour to give Mrs. Claus the paperwork. She had been surprised how fast they worked but then she remembered the elves had the ability to teleport or something.

  After only five minutes of reading through the details, Diana decided to go through with having her husband killed. If the proposed timeline Aleph gave her was to be believed, Santa
Claus would be dead within the hour.

  “You’re sure?” Aleph said.

  “Yes.”

  “If you look at page thirteen, you’ll see the choices of termination.”

  Diana flipped to the page and saw the list of ways Santa could be killed. Poisoning. Strangulation. Stabbing. Shooting. Dismemberment. Drowning. Electrocution. Fake suicide. Car accident. Pushed off roof. Bludgeoning. Suffocation. Slow torture. Killer bees. Rabid raccoon. Throat cutting. Heart attack. Death by tiger.

  Then there were the disclosure details. Did she want her husband to know why he was being killed? If so, did she want it recorded in any way? Did she want to be there? Also, what did she want done with the body? There were myriad choices for her to choose from but it didn’t take her long to decide.

  “I want you to tell him that I hired you. Then I want him beaten up a little bit and then killed somewhat painlessly. I want the woman dead, too. Just dump their bodies somewhere. In the ocean or something.”

  Aleph said, “The woman, too? Are you sure? We couldn’t find any details on her so I can’t say for sure if she even knows he’s married.”

  “I don’t care. I’m sick of these stupid sluts fucking anything that moves. They don’t care if the guy’s married or anything. You’ll be doing the world a favor.”

  “Then consider it done,” Aleph said. He was a little apprehensive about killing the woman, not because he had any sort of moral objection to it but because there was something strange about her, something dangerous, and it could all come back to bite him in the ass.

  XI.

  Aleph watched the woman leave the house.

  Through his team of surveillance experts, he found out the woman’s name was Kay but that was just about all they found out. There was something about the house that made their surveillance tactics fail on almost every occasion. To make matters worse, nowhere could they find a date of birth, employment history, or anything that any normal human has in terms of a history.

  Aleph was bothered by something else. If Santa was having an affair with the woman, why didn’t he go with her when she left the house?

  Maybe he wasn’t having an affair with her. Maybe___

  She’s holding Santa Claus against his will. But that was impossible. Wasn’t it?

  It would make sense why his scouts hadn’t seen the man ever since he had met the woman. Could he just be hiding out in the house enjoying post-coital bliss? Maybe. But Aleph’s instincts told him there was something else. It was important that he find out what that was because if Santa was not being unfaithful, that would change the business arrangement with Mrs. Claus.

  Aleph spoke telepathically to his partner Dali who was stationed behind the house. “New plan. Find a way into the house, identify our target, and verify if the infidelity was consensual. ”

  Dali answered. “Will do. You suspect something?”

  “Maybe. Something doesn’t seem right. I’m not sure our target wants to be in that house. ”

  “And if that’s the case?”

  “If that’s the case, you let me know and I’ll make an executive decision to cancel the hit on our target. I imagine our client will want the woman neutralized but I’ll have to verify that. ”

  “Okay. I’m proceeding into the house right now. ”

  “Be careful, Dali. ”

  “Always am. ”

  XII.

  Dali entered the backdoor of Kay’s house and tripped over a shoebox. Like a cat, he soundlessly caught himself before he fell.

  He slowly tip-toed across the floor and perused the room in order to gain more information about the woman who may or may not have kidnapped Santa Claus.

  It looked like the typical living room of a single woman except for one thing. In the middle of the floor between the couch and the television, there was a giant snail shell covered in thick, red spirals.

  Dali shuddered when he looked at the snail shell. There was something wrong about it and it wasn’t because it was so out of place. The snail shell started to pulsate and hum.

  What the fuck?

  Dali quickly slid across the floor away from the shell. He wanted to find Santa Claus and be done with the whole assignment. The humming got louder even though Dali was getting farther away from the shell. When he made it to the last room down the hallway, the hum was nearly deafening.

  Though it was probably not the stealthiest of moves, he barged into the room. He could sense there was someone else in there with him but he didn’t see anyone because of the darkness.

  Then a muffled voice said, “Let me outta here!”

  XIII.

  Smitty had never seen Diana so angry.

  Sure, he knew that Santa’s past indiscretions had affected her but he had been hoping that she’d get over it. He’d also been hoping that the whole thing with the Elves of Fuck was just a coping mechanism, a ritual to help her through the pain and paranoia before she called the whole thing off.

  But that wasn’t the case.

  She was really going to have her husband killed. He almost felt like he should do something about it.

  It wasn’t that Smitty cared that much about Santa Claus. The truth was the guy was a real asshole, especially to Smitty. It was no secret that Santa didn’t like animals. He hated having to rely on the reindeer and had, on more than one occasion, been accused of abusing them. So when Smitty arrived in the North Pole, the big man didn’t take too kindly to a hairy humanoid squid making friends with Mrs. Claus.

  So now Smitty had to deal with his conflicting emotions. On one hand, he didn’t want Diana to have to deal with such a bastard of a husband. On the other hand, the death of Santa Claus would bring about a whole shit storm of trouble for the entire North Pole.

  What bothered Smitty the most was the kids. Though he himself never celebrated Christmas, he loved hearing how the holiday brought such happiness to the children of the world. He wasn’t even jealous about it. He sincerely enjoyed seeing others happy, especially innocent children.

  Smitty saw Diana in front of the toyshop. She was smoking again, which was a bad sign. He slowly approached her and said, “Hey.”

  Diana quickly flicked the cigarette into a pile of snow. “Oh, hey Smitty.”

  “Back to smoking, I see.”

  She frowned. “Sorry.”

  “You’re a big girl. You can do what you want but you know those things are no good for you.”

  “Neither is a shitty husband.”

  Smitty looked her straight in the eyes.

  “But you’re taking care of that, aren’t you?”

  “Oh my god, Smitty, you’re really going to give me a guilt trip now? You know the shit I’ve been through and you’re going to make me feel guilty about finally taking a stand?”

  Smitty turned his back to her and was silent for a few seconds. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so nasty. I guess it’s just that I disagree with what you decided to do.”

  “You don’t have to agree, Smitty. It’s not your marriage. Not your life. You can leave here and it won’t make a difference to you. But me? I have to stay.”

  “Do you want me to leave, Diana?” Smitty said. His tentacles spread out into the snow like a bridal gown. “Don’t be ridiculous. You know that’s not what I meant,” Diana said. “I’m tied down to this place. You’re free to go wherever you please. I’m not saying I want you to go. I’m just saying that’s how it is.”

  Smitty moved a hairy tentacle up to Diana’s face. “I know. I’m sorry. I just wish there was some other way to straighten this whole thing out.”

  “Me too. You don’t think I’ve thought about it? I have. I’ve spent months trying to figure out another solution but that bastard just makes it difficult for me. What’s done is done. There’s no going back.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” Smitty said. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  XIV.

  Dali found the light switch and flicked it on so he could see where the voice was coming f
rom.

  In the corner of the room there was a man on the ground, his head enclosed in what looked like a wooden toilet.

  “Whoa, what the hell?” Dali said. “Santa, is that you?” He knew it was a stupid question. The man was dressed in the traditional red and white Santa suit. Who the hell else could it be?

  “Yes, yes! Who are you? Let me out! I can’t move my body!”

  Even though his original assignment was to kill Santa, he sort of felt bad for him. The guy was trapped in what looked like a homemade toilet and was paralyzed from the neck down. But that would mean he wasn’t in the house by his own free will. The woman had kidnapped him just like Aleph had suspected. That changed everything.

  He walked over to the man, pulled away the black silk that acted as a sort of toilet seat, and peered in.

  The man who looked up at him was a far cry from the Santa Claus that Dali imagined. His white beard was covered in red and green globs. His nose was clogged with goo.

  “Hold on. I’ll get you out.” But before Dali could do that, something came into the room and ate him.

  XV.

  When Santa saw the ugly elf look down at him, he couldn’t help but feel embarrassed. He must have looked like hell. But then that didn’t matter. He was saved. That is, until he heard something enter the room.

  The ugly elf went out of view and what Santa heard made him want to vomit. It sounded like a hundred crabs fighting over a pile of jelly. Then there were the ugly elf’s screams muffled every few seconds until they ceased altogether. That was when Santa knew that any chance of his being rescued disappeared along with that ugly elf.

  Once the noise died down, the lights went off and whatever had come into the room left.

  Santa Claus was left alone in the dark. The globs on his face started to slide off into his ears. Then he heard the voice.