Author: Rich Bottles Jr
Date: 2017-11-19 02:02:12+00:00
Keywords: Fiction; General; Fantasy; Humor; Topic; Adult
Description: Cantankerous demon Krampus is out to ruin Christmas for everyone, but Mrs. Claus and Jolly Ole Saint Nicholas will do everything in their power to stop his diabolical plan, even if it means becoming vampires to fight the evil villain! Join Alfie the Elf, Rudolpho the Reindeer Trainer, and all the other merry residents of Christmasland in this hilarious yuletide adventure that is sure to become a joyous holiday classic!

The Vampire Who Saves Christmas

RICH BOTTLES JR.

The Vampire Who Saves Christmas

By Rich Bottles Jr.

Burning Bulb Publishing

P.O. Box 4721

Bridgeport, WV 26330-4721

United States of America
www.BurningBulbPublishing.com

PUBLISHER'S NOTE: This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is purely coincidental.

Copyright © 2017 Burning Bulb Publishing. All rights reserved.

Image credits (used under license from 123RF Stock Photo):

Santa Vintage Cover: Sparkstudio 14916589 ©: sparkstudio
Reindeer Girl for Epilogue: Kenny Kiernan 20685089 © kennykiernanillustration
Gift Tag Backcover: Karen Roach 5669631 © karenr
Script Girl: Lorelyn Medina 11378226 © lenm
1_Partridge: Lorelyn Medina 8360890 © lenm
2_TurtleDoves: Lorelyn Medina 8360872 © lenm
3_FrenchHens: Lorelyn Medina 8360893 © lenm
4_CallingBirds: Lorelyn Medina 8360854 © lenm
5_GoldenRings: Lorelyn Medina 8360828 © lenm
6_GeeseALaying: Lorelyn Media 8360889 © lenm
7_SwansASwimming: Lorelyn Media 8360915 © lenm
8_MaidsAMilking: Lorelyn Media 8360922 © lenm
9_LadiesDancing: Lorelyn Media 8360924 © lenm
10_LordsALeaping: Lorelyn Media 8360926 © lenm
11_PipersPiping: Lorelyn Media 8360929
12_DrummersDrumming: Lorelyn Media 8360927 © lenm
GiftTagforBottomofSignaturePage: picsfive 10599801 © picsfive

Kindle Edition.

Paperback Edition ISBN:  978-1-948278-00-3

Dedication:

Dedicated to the memory of my younger brother Brian Bottles, whose death I learned about while writing page 59 of the script. Following the funeral services, I returned home to write the inflammatory lyrics for "Another Christmas Song."

CHAPTER 1

Twas not the night before Christmas, but some other night.

Twas a night in a quaint little Victorian era village, within one of those countries where it seems to be winter all the time.

The streets of the village were illuminated by whatever method people used back then, but one storefront in particular glistened and twinkled in a welcoming fashion that would attract even the most world-weary traveler.

Indeed, three such travelers stomped through the blizzard-swept streets that night, their bare feet sloshing into the snow drifts. Now before you start fretting over digital frost bite or stubbed-up toes on the hidden curbature, please understand that this wayward trio was not comprised of normal folk like you and me (or you at least), but were in fact demons.

The two female travelers were red-skinned and bare-assed naked, not like John-Smith-humping-Pocahontas Red Indian types, but the kind you might see in one of those Anonymous Bosch paintings. They were past their teen years, but their taut blossomed bodies indicated not by much. Their asses had a sheen and a smoothness like dual pairs of crystal balls, whose fortunes would be revealed to anyone brave enough to rub against them. And their titties! Oh god, their luscious titties seemed to burst forth from their sturdy chests like over-fertilized tomatoes, ready to be plucked by some vegan pervert. The girls' long braids of hair were red too, signifying that only the most daring of suitors should attempt to approach the sluts, because if one got too close to the bitches he'd quickly realize their eyes were also crimson.

But the male traveler was the weird one.

That burly black bastard had the hairy body of a wolf-like beast, although he walked on hooved back legs, almost like a human. He also had a human-like face, albeit an ugly human face, which seemed frozen in a displeased grimace amidst vacant ebony eyes. Goat horns jutted from the top of his skull, while his salivating mouth could barely contain a long sinister tongue. If allowed to unfurl, this mouth organ might reach down as far as his red-tipped canine cock, but let's not go there.

In one furry palm, he clutched the handle of a black riding crop, which he used to smack against the door of the aforementioned storefront. The girls licked their lips when the folded leather tip of the whip cracked against the wooden door, prompting them to remember how the very same implement had cut into their sensitive skin on more than one occasion.

After a few strokes, the door submissively creaked open, only to reveal a quivering half-sized human form, sporting some kind of green and brown suspendered lederhosen. "Ca-ca-can I help you?" greeted the wide-eyed midge.

"Y-y-yes, you can," mockingly growled the man-beast. "How about you scurry off and tell Jolly Ole Saint Nick that Krampus is here to see him on urgent business."

"Yes, sir, right away. Please come inside where it's warm."

The trio entered the store, which contained shelves full of handmade wood crafts that didn't interest them in the least. As the little man scampered out of sight, Krampus stood quietly with his arms crossed, impatiently tapping a hoof on the wooden floor. The only objects of interest to the girls were the flickering candles in the display window, which they quickly grabbed and took turns dripping hot wax onto each other's breasts.

They would hold the candles as steady as possible, allowing the molten wax to pool in the center of the candle sticks, and then they'd suddenly splash the contents onto the opposing boobs. Even the attention of the impatient Krampus was diverted to them, as they shrieked and giggled while the wax sizzled against their tortured skin and slowly coagulated. They excitedly breathed in the fumes of the vaporized wax as it passed through the stages of liquid, gas and solid matter, purring to the other not to miss their areolas and nipples. Soon their waxy breaths became more labored and they became light-headed in ecstasy, causing them to fall into each other's arms as the candlesticks tumbled harmlessly to the floor. Their sudden embrace was followed by passionate kissing, as they rubbed their wax-encrusted tits against each other, the body heat rewarming the wax once again.

"Um..."

"Lick the wax off me," one said as she broke off from the kiss.

"Um...

"Yes, chew the wax too, my love, chew it from my nipples."

"Um... excuse me."

Krampus and the girls begrudgingly turned to look down toward the squeaky voice in the center of the room.

"M-M-Mister Claus will see you now," the shocked elf stammered.

The girls seemed angered by the interruption, since not all the wax had been consumed from their breasts, but Krampus obliged them with his crop, smacking the candle remnants from their tits with a few strong but precise blows that almost buckled their already weakened knees. The little man waited patiently for the show to conclude, adjusting the crotch of his lederhosen as he lingered.

A brief stroll down the hallway brought the group to the door of Santa's office, which the small man obediently opened for the visitors. As soon as the guests were inside the gaudily-decorated and cluttered office space, the belittled butler closed the door and was on his way. Santa Claus, dressed in the red cloth and white fur as you'd expect, rose from his seat and extended his arms in a welcoming gesture.

"Ho, ho, ho! Come in and sit down! If it isn't my old nemesis, Krampus and his whores! Still thrashing and kidnapping the kids I've deemed to be bad? Ho, ho, ho!"

Both Santa and Krampus sat down, while the women flanked Krampus in the guest chair and began posing in provocative ways that only whores know how to do. Santa then pushed a plate of cookies toward his guests.

"Would anyone care for a cookie? They're fresh baked from Missus Claus."

The snatch snatched up some cookies, but Krampus refrained.

"Ladies, I don't believe we've been properly introduced," Santa observed. "But I bet you were once on the naughty list! Ho, ho, ho!"

Krampus begrudgingly responded, "Here is Succubus Two and Succubus One. These things here will bite you; they want to have fun."

"Eh, what?"

"Let's cut the small talk, Nicky. I've come here with a serious proposition for you."

"Do you mind if I enjoy a cookie while you brief me?"

"Yeah, actually I do mind, fat ass. Maybe you consume too many cookies, huh? Maybe Missus Claus is trying to kill you with all the sugary treats she provides. Did you ever think of that, tubby? Well, have you?"

"Now why would Missus Claus..."

Krampus leaned back in the chair and continued his pitch. "You're getting old, Santa. You're way overweight. I don't even know how you lift your proverbial bag of toys. I made all my rounds last Christmas, but my confidential source tells me you barely made it back before dawn from your little benevolent giveaway campaign. Also, I heard certain presents didn't get to the intended recipients, causing grief and disappointment to interfere on an otherwise joyous Christmas morn."

Santa's brows furled and he slammed a fist down on the desk, causing cookie crumbs to bounce into the stagnant air. "Now see here, Krampus, I don't know where you're getting your information, but need I remind you that nobody's perfect? Mistakes may be made, but you have to look at the big picture. You know, the greater good..."

"Spoken like a true Communist," interrupted Krampus. "You know as well as I do that you cannot continue at the pace you're currently on. You're getting more and more feeble while the greedy kids' wish lists are getting longer and longer... And you have what to help you? One pint-sized punk, who doubles as a toy-maker and a butler? God forbid you ask Missus Claus to lend a hand, because she's too busy baking up another batch of your poison."

"Okay, okay, already," Santa submitted. "What exactly do you propose, Krampus?"

Krampus grinned and his tongue poked quickly from between his lips. He leaned forwarded and hissed, "Not only can I help you live forever, but I can provide an endless supply of pint-sized helpers."

"First of all, I don't know what a pint is. Second of all, you should know that Santa doesn't like liars."

"I don't give a flying fuck what you like, Santa, because I don't need to play nice to get any of your junky gifts," he spat. "But my proposal will help both of us. Succubus One and Succubus Two can provide you a magic elixir that will give you eternal life on Earth."

"But how does all this benefit you, Krampus?"

Krampus sighed, "I'm being overrun by the brats I kidnap every year. I barely have time to give each of them their daily thrashing. I weed out the older ones each year to try and make room for the newbies, but there's just too many bad kids popping up every Christmas. Personally, I blame the parents, but what can you do, right? The prospect of receiving lumps of coal from you never has worked, and the threat of being beaten by birch rods and whips by me isn't working either."

Santa added, "Perhaps if the children's socioeconomic situation improved, their behavior would improve also?"

"Oh, shut the fuck up with that bleeding heart bullshit! I say we combine our operations. I say we set up a warehouse in some remote place and we put my minion kiddies to work making toys for your so-called good kids. I'll be in charge of the manufacturing and you'll be in charge of the distribution. What do you say?"

Santa rose and extended his hand toward Krampus. "Ho, ho, ho! I say bring on the Succubi!"

***

After Krampus excused himself, Succubus One and Succubus Two found their way around the desk and approached Santa in his chair, causing the man to almost go cross-eyed when he attempted to ogle both girls at once. In stereo, both women leaned down and purred into Santa's ears, rubbing their fiery bosoms against his shoulders. Santa closed his weary eyes and rested his head against the back of the chair, a satisfied grin consuming his reddening face.

As the girls began licking either side of his neck, their hands reached down to Santa's crotch and began fidgeting with his oversized belt buckle. Not many folks know this, but Santa needed an oversized belt and buckle to hold in his oversized cock and balls, which the Succubi soon realized when the whole package burst forth as soon as the belt was unfastened.

As much as the women wanted to lower their ravenous mouths onto Santa's engorged genitals, they managed to stay focused on the job at hand and only provide a hand job, while their mouths searched for the sweet spot on Santa's throat. Santa soon felt the pang of desire when the fangs of the demons sank into his exposed flesh. But the pain of the bites was overcome by the pleasure of the female hands on his crotch, as one hand stroked his shaft and the other massaged his nuts. Santa's own hands did not remain idle as his fingers searched out the inner depths of the creamy crevices on either side of his chair.

Santa's ringing ears could hear both of the biters gulp down mouthfuls of his vital fluid, and he soon became light-headed as the blood being feverously pumped toward his brain was intercepted by the hungry blood-suckers. But Santa's blood still pumped freely down below, as evidenced by an increased stiffness that indicated Santa's special delivery would arrive sooner than later.

The accommodating hands suddenly loosened their grip on Santa's nether region, however, causing his own hands to end their expedition. With one final synchronized slurp on both sides, the women suddenly stood up and smiled down upon St. Nick, his blood still dripping from their quivering lips. They used their freed arms to wipe their mouths like messy babies, while Santa's free hands went directly to his abandoned dick.

The demons then leaned over the seated Santa and began passionately kissing each other, while the last remnants of spilled blood dropped onto the fat man's costumed chest. Santa then heard the rumbling of one bitch's belly, then the rumbling of the other tramp's tummy. Then one's body suddenly convulsed, leading to a similar reaction from the other. Both remained attached at the lips, however, while Santa slowed down his strokes to prevent a sudden eruption of his own.

Santa looked up at the tongue twisters just in time to see Succubus One pull away from Succubus Two and lower her head toward Santa's chest. The choking convulsions of Succubus Two prompted Succubus One to open wide her waiting mouth. A steady stream of sanguine sauce projected from Succubus Two and immediately overfilled the mouth of Succubus One, even though One tried her damnedest to swallow the hot steaming bloody load. Regurgitated blood splashed down onto Santa, but he maintained his steady strokes like a true unabated master of masturbation.

Violent convulsions then overtook Succubus One, who held her burgeoning belly like a pregnant mother trying to control the relentless kicking of impatient triplets. Her "morning sickness" quickly became a mourning sickness for Succubus Two, as the whores switched roles from catcher to pitcher (and Santa at bat, or course). A burst of bloody puke struck the open mouth of Succubus Two, almost knocking her out of bounds. Succubus One then waved her panicked hands to signal that a second wave was rising up her scorched esophagus.

But the upcoming upchuck wasn't meant for her cunty colleague. No! The girls' hands quickly reached into their sitting target's mouth, pried open his jolly jaws, and let loose a double-barreled blast into his crusty cookie hole. As soon as their oral ejaculate hit his uvula, his urethral ejaculate hit the ceiling.

***

Meanwhile, Krampus found his kink in the kitchen. Specifically, a middle-aged kink with a shapely body and few inhibitions.

As Mrs. Kink, err Claus, leaned over to pull a tray of hot cookies out of her old-timey oven, Krampus took the opportunity to smack her plump ass with his riding crop. Mrs. Claus yelped and jumped a bit, but did not drop the tray. She smiled when she saw Krampus in her kitchen and quickly placed the steaming bake tray on the counter.

"Oh, Krampy, don't sneak up on me like that when I have a tray in my hands!"

"But you always seem to have a tray in your hands," he responded. "Besides, you know I like the booty!"

Mrs. Claus and Krampus embraced and kissed like natural lovers, well as natural as a union can be between a demon hellbeast and a horny hellcat. Of course, there's really nothing natural about a French kiss where one lover's tongue is long enough to tickle the hiatal ring of the other's stomach.

Breaking to catch her breath, Mrs. Claus coughed, "So, did the old coot fall for it?"

"Like a pedophile priest falls for a choir, my dear."

Mrs. Claus stepped back slightly and began untying her apron, while Krampus busied himself with the unbuttoning of her blouse. She became slightly nervous when she saw his lascivious reaction to her revealed breasts.

"So, Santa told you about his days as a choir conductor for Priest Nicholas?" she giggled uncomfortably.

"Ha, ha! Good one, my dear! Now bend over the counter and press your tits into the hot cookie dough!"

"Whatever you say, Master."

Mrs. Claus reluctantly leaned her torso over the hot cookie tray, breathing in the pleasant aroma of hot cookies before she planted her tits across them. She struggled to keep position as the soft cookies enveloped her sensitive nipples in their gooey lava-like centers. The next thing she felt was Krampus lifting up her skirt to gain access to her own lava-like center.

He wasted no time burying his peculiar pecker into her slippery slit. Sweat soon began forming on her forehead and neck, pooling in her cleavage and dripping down on the sizzling pan.

Her face blazing red, she squealed, "Oh, please hurry, my nips are boiling."

"Perhaps I should've pre-heated your oven," he laughed while he continued to pound her pussy. "But you better stay still, unless you want my crop to punish those obstinate orbs."

"Yes, sir, I'll try..."

His dick slid in and out of her fuckhole with ease, and he considered moving up a notch to her tighter asshole, but was soon feeling that old familiar tingling in his balls. "It won't be long now bitch..."

"Thank you, sir," she gasped, almost at the point of passing out.

"Yes, and it also won't be long until we're together forever at a new, and very remote, location," he added, struggling to hold back his orgasm. "While you keep filling Santa's mouth with these cookies, I'll keep filling your holes with my icing."

Krampus suddenly pushed aside Mrs. Claus and shot his hefty load onto the cookie tray.

***

Outside Santa's shop, Krampus enjoyed a post-coital pipe smoke, appreciating the crisp coolness of the silent night. But his smoke break was suddenly interrupted when Santa Claus burst through the shop door. Santa now possessed a most menacing appearance and his uncontrolled rage was apparent to Krampus, who took another casual puff from his pipe.

"Krampus!" he yelled, stomping toward his new business partner. "What have your witches done to me?!"

Not impressed by the show of aggression, Krampus replied, "What's up, Father Christmas?"

Sans a proper collar, Santa grabbed Krampus by the scruff of the neck and got in the demon's face. With his virgin fangs glistening, Santa spat, "You said nothing about making me into a vampire, you loathsome bastard!"

"Would you have preferred a werewolf?"

Santa's eyes turned red with rage and he threw Krampus to the ground. "I'm not laughing, Krampus! You think this is funny?!"

Krampus slowly rose from the snow-covered sidewalk, looking momentarily for his lost pipe.

"Chill out, Nicky. There's only a few paths to immortality, at least here on Earth. Vampirism seemed to suit you best."

"How do you figure that?" he asked, still shaking.

"You work at night, right? Well, vampires can only go out at night, otherwise they'll shrivel up and die in the daylight."

"Shrivel up and die? What the fuck..."

"Well, spontaneously combust, however you want to say it. So, sorry there'll be no more afternoon strolls in the park for you. Not that you did a lot of that..."

"What about Missus Claus? What is she gonna say when she finds out she's married to a vampire?"

"Actually, Missus Claus was next on the appointment list of Succubus One and Succubus Two."

"What?!" he screamed as he started to run back toward the door.

Krampus grabbed Santa by the arm and said, "Hold on there, Santa. Missus Claus knows all about what's going down. And she knows all about the benefits of being a vampire."

"Benefits of being a vampire?"

"Yes, there are benefits of being a vampire, especially at Christmas. Follow me and I'll explain."

***

Unbeknownst to Santa, Succubus One and Succubus Two were already feeding from Mrs. Claus, in preparation of her transfusional transformation. But instead of taking the blood from the neck of Mrs. Claus, they positioned themselves on opposite sides of the Claus marital bed, and sank their bloody fangs into the brutalized breasts of Mrs. Claus, taking extra time to lick the aching blisters on her nipples. The naked client in the center of the bed moaned as the Succubi continued to torture her already tormented tits. Each demon cupped its assigned feed bag with their hands, while Mrs. Claus used her hands to pleasure herself, feeling weaker and weaker with each passing gulp.

The bedroom seemed to spin for Mrs. Claus, ironically in the same direction her fingertips were encircling her swollen clit. When the dizziness became unbearable for her, she simply rubbed around her bud in the opposite direction. Aside from fingering her flushed flaps, Mrs. Claus realized she was losing control of her body and was defenseless against the famished fiends who flanked her.

"Oh god, oh god, my beautiful boobs are so sore... Will they ever heal? Please be easy with them..." she breathlessly called out to deaf ears.

Mrs. Claus had been asked to bring a large icing plunger/syringe from the kitchen and she soon realized the reason. When the Succubi began to dry heave and grab their contracting stomachs, Mrs. Claus watched as one placed the empty syringe against her mouth and began puking inside the long decorating tool. Then, like druggies passing a bong, the syringe was quickly handed to the other Succubus, who filled it to the rim with the stinking contents of her gut.

While one demon chick fitted the plunger into the syringe, the other instructed Mrs. Claus to "Turn over, honey."

If you've never had a large quantity of blood and puke squirted into your ass, it's hard to describe in words what Mrs. Claus was about to experience. But the scene was still titillating enough for Mrs. Claus to continue the fingering of her clit while the initial spurts entered her bunghole. The penetrating putridity caused the body of Mrs. Claus to spasm uncontrollably and she almost lost consciousness. She was experiencing tortuous teething pain before the last of the repulsive recipe emptied into her bulging rectum. An oddly-shaped gourd then sealed the deal and Mrs. Claus was left alone on the soiled bed to ferment, having not even achieved the orgasm she so desperately wanted.

***

In the meantime, an elf-like man named Alfie was in the fetal position on the floor of his closet, mumbling a prayer for protection.

CHAPTER 2

Krampus led Santa to a large Victorian mansion on the outskirts of town. You know, the kind of place that is eventually converted into a funeral home after a hundred years or so of more mortal use.

"... And we're here!" Krampus announced as he climbed the steps to the front porch.

"Here?" questioned Santa. "This is a whorehouse."

"Indeed it is, Santa. Indeed it is. Have you perchance visited before?"

"I usually don't deliver gifts to whorehouses," he admitted.

"Really? Well, what if the whores have children living amongst them? Are you going to just avoid such whorehouses?" Krampus asked.

"Yes, because those children would be the sons and daughters of whores, would they not?" Santa pointed out.

"I guess you've got me there, you judgmental prick," Krampus sneered as he tapped his crop on the front door. "Anyway, this particular place is not your everyday ordinary run-of-the-mill disease-ridden whorehouse. Oh no, no, no! This particular house of ill repute is owned by my good friend Rudolpho, and every whore inside was personally selected and supplied by me from my hoard of victims when they were still in their preteens. Rudolpho is going to assist us in our corporate merger and relocation plans."

The door opening coincided with the greeting, "Did I just hear my name mentioned?"

"Rudolpho, my friend!" answered Krampus, his friend.

Rudolpho can be stereotypically described as a tallish thinish individual of quite obvious African descent, who enjoyed wearing heavy fur coats with bright colorful trim, wide impractical hats, and garish gold chains, including his favorite necklace which featured a large diamond-studded letter "R" as the pendant.

"Gentlemen! Please come in. I've been expecting you!"

The three men entered the standard velvety-walled and dimly-lit bordello reception room. Rudolfo motioned for his guests to sit down in their choice of overly-cushioned chairs in the center of the room. "Can I offer either of you a refreshment?"

"Schnapps for me, thank you," Krampus spoke up.

Santa added, "I'll have an eggnog, if you've got it."

"But of course," Rudolpho responded before leaving the room.

Santa leaned toward Krampus and said, "You still haven't told me why we're patronizing a whorehouse."

"Well, if you must know, this is the place where you'll be able to pick up a quick meal - fast food, so to speak. Also, as I said, Rudolpho has offered to help us in our joint venture."

"And what's his incentive to help?"

"Not being killed by you or Missus Claus," Krampus answered. "You see, Rudolpho places significant value in his earthly existence."

On cue, Rudolpho re-entered the room and handed out the requested drinks.

"Thank you, Rudolpho," Krampus responded. "Now let's show Santa what's on the menu!"

Rudolpho picked up a small brass bell from a table and shook it. A parade of scantily-clad hussies soon entered the room and stood in front of the patrons.

Rudolpho, in his best lyrical voice, introduced the product, "You know Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen. Comet and Cupid and Donna and Blitzkrieg."

Rather than try to describe the feminine attributes of all eight ladies of the night, suffice it to say that there was a good mixture of ethnicity, hair styles and color, bust and butt sizes, height, etc. (but no fatties, of course). Dasher appeared jittery like she was tweaking, Dancer moved to a groove that was audible only to her, Prancer acted like she needed to use the bathroom, Vixen was licking her lips while studying the men, Comet and Cupid were twins, and Donna looked like your sister.

"Blitzkrieg?" questioned Santa upon hearing the name of the stumpy girl with the short-cropped black hair at the end of the line, who stared down at her bare feet and wore a loose black bodice that highlighted her pale white cleavage.

Rudolpho laughed, "Ah yes, Blitzkrieg is sort of our resident sullen Goth Girl. But who cares if a whore is happy, as long as she does what she's told, right?"

Krampus, waved his crop around, and added, "I'll thrash the attitude right out of her! Father Christmas needs happy concubines, dammit! Isn't that correct, Santa?"

In a show of support, Santa rose from his seat and approached the sad little woman. He circled her, checking out her sweet little ass, then leaned in from behind to whisper, "Who's your daddy?"

Before the girl could answer, if she even planned to answer, Santa grabbed her by the hair, and twisted her head down to reveal her anemic neck. He then savagely bit into her throat, holding her upright as he fed. A muted scream emitted from her terrified face, like she was caught in a silent horror film. The other women gasped aloud, but could not look away from the fiendish assault.

The Blitzkrieg attack aroused Krampus enough to call on his favorite whore. "Hey you, Dancer! Come over here and get on my lap, pronto!"

Without delay, Dancer executed a Grand Jete and a perfect Pirouette, which ended with a Split straight onto the waiting lap of Krampus. Facing the other women with her back toward Krampus, Dancer began grinding her taint on the exposed gland of Krampus. The hard hairy dick tickled Dancer with its static electricity, from her clit to her asshole, and made her face flush with unrestrained delight.

While being thusly serviced, Krampus leaned his head slightly to one side, so that he could see around Dancer's sweaty body and continue to keep a watchful eye on Santa Claus.

"Don't drain her out completely, Santa, you gluttonous pig!" yelled Krampus. "We need that sulking bitch for later!"

Santa allowed Blitzkrieg to fall to the floor. He wiped some excess blood from his beard with his red coat sleeve, and then stomped over to Krampus.

Rudolpho realized that the feast had finished and addressed the other women, clapping to get their attention. "The rest of you ladies, help Blitzkrieg back to the dressing room and prepare your costumes!"

Standing in front of the osculating doxy, Santa looked over Dancer's tossed hair and asked Krampus, "If I had drained the cunt, would she have become a vampire?"

"Nah, she just would've died," Krampus stated matter-of-factly. "You'd have to vomit the girl's blood back into her body to covert her."

Dancer's face began to show signs of distress, but Krampus didn't notice any interruption until he heard her start gagging and heaving.

"What's wrong up there, Dancer?" he demanded. "You don't like what you're hearing? Do we offend your delicate whorehouse sensibilities? Maybe Santa has something to plug your mouth with, so you don't throw up all over Rudolpho's fine carpetry."

"Yes," Santa agreed as he loosened his belt and dropped his pants. "Even I was careful not to spill any blood on the carpet."

Rudolpho laughed and added, "Indeed, Dancer, you'd best not regurgitate tonight's rations on this carpeting. Lord knows, not even Comet could get out such a stain!"

Soon Dancer had a good reason to gag, as Santa's engorged member invaded her mouth and throat. She held tightly onto the boney knee bones of Krampus as Santa face-fucked her and she continued to rub laps around the demon dong. A quick adjustment from Krampus allowed his provoked prick to enter her pasty pussy.

"Stay still and take it like a good little whore," Santa instructed. "Unless you want me to box your ears and pinch off your nose 'til you pass out."

"And that's nothing compared to what I'll do to you if you disobey," warned Krampus.

The desperate Dancer managed to breathe infrequently through her nose during the oral ordeal, but the scant oxygen proved insufficient to keep her conscious. Both gentlemen heard a deep groan from the girl the moment she passed out, and the suffering sound of the vanquished victim caused both of them to simultaneously blow their hot loads into her limp body.

Rudlopho applauded their synchronized performance. "Bravo, gentlemen! Bravo! It's not easy to wear out one of my whores!"

As Santa pulled up his pants, he nodded in acknowledgement to Rudolpho.

Rudolpho concluded, "I'll take care of this Tiny Dancer, if you'd kindly go to the backyard and wait for me there. I think I have something in store for you that you're going to like!"

***

When Santa and Krampus entered the backyard of the bordello, Krampus pointed toward the center of the snow-covered yard. "Check out what Rudolpho procured for you, using my specifications, of course!"

Santa walked up to the shiny object with a surprised smile on his face. "This is fucking awesome! You've really outdone yourselves - both you and Rudolpho! You must have known all along that I'd accept your business offer."

Santa had to take a step back to take in the full splendor of the bright red sleigh that stood before him in the yard, blinking his eyes to ensure that he wasn't dreaming. Inflamed torches were mounted on the front of the sleigh, causing the contraption to twinkle magically against the frozen earth. Two long leather harness lines were spread out in front of the sleigh.

"But what will we use to pull such a massive sleigh?" Santa asked.

At that point, Rudolpho barged from the backdoor, joyfully ringing his brass bell. Behind him trotted two lines of trollops costumed as so-called "pony girls." The girls wore leather strappings across their naked bodies, clip-on antlers atop their heads, and long-haired tails sprouting from their asses. Once the reindeer girls aligned themselves with the harnesses in front of the sleigh, the three men worked to secure them to the sleigh. Of course, Krampus had to smack a few of them with his crop to keep them in line.

"Go ahead and jump inside the sleigh, Santa," Krampus encouraged his partner once the girls were locked in place. "Take 'er for a spin around the village and see how she handles."

Santa didn't hesitate to climb aboard, grabbing a long bullwhip from the seat as he positioned himself in the driver's position. "Don't mind if I do, Krampus. Don't mind if I do!"

Santa cracked the whip against the bare back of the closest reindeer girl, who let out a piercing squeal and pushed against the girl in front of her. The sleigh jolted forward as Santa whipped the next closest girl.

Santa called out, "Now Dasher! Now Dancer! Now Prancer, and Vixen! On Comet! On Cupid! On, Donna and Blitzkrieg!"

***

Santa eventually drove his sleigh up to the front of his shop. Mrs. Claus must have heard the crying and pleading of the reindeer girls, because it didn't take long for her to emerge from their trendy place of business.

As she walked onto the roadway, she admitted, "That's quite an impressive rig you've got there, Mister Claus!"

Jumping off the sleigh, Santa agreed, "Indeed it is, wifey, and all courtesy of Krampus and Rudolpho!"

Mrs. Claus flashed her fangs and added, "I wouldn't mind sinking my new fangs into that pimp Rudolpho."

"Sorry to disappoint you, sweetheart, but Rudolpho is strictly off the menu for us. It's part of the agreement Krampus made with Rudolpho for his assistance. But you're welcome to dine upon any of these fine reindeer does here, although you may want to steer clear of Blitzkrieg, since she's been pretty-well drained by yours truly."

"Well, which one is Blitzkrieg?" she asked.

"If you look at their tails, all the tramps have their names tattooed above their asses."

"Fair enough," she responded. "I'll even provide my lucky reindeer with some cookies after I feed, which should restore her energy following the involuntary blood donation."

"Then you may want to give Blitzkrieg a couple cookies too, since she's still acting a bit sluggish."

"Oh, by the way," added Mrs. Claus. "Please drop inside the shop for a bit and see Alfie. He wants to speak to you about a private matter."

"All right," he agreed. "That little piece of shit never could handle change."

***

Alfie timidly followed Santa into his office and climbed onto the guest chair in front of Santa's desk.

"You wanted to talk to me, Alfie?"

"Yes, Santa," the lil' guy sighed. "There seems to be a lot of changes taking place around the shop and I'm concerned about what my future role will be."

"And what changes are you talking about?"

"Excuse me, Santa?"

"The changes you've observed," he clarified. "What changes are you talking about?"

"Well, for example, you and Missus Claus becoming blood-thirsty vampires, for one..."

"Oh, yes, there is that."

"And you conspiring with Mister Krampus, a known child-molesting demon from the depths of Hell."

"Changes indeed, my friend. You are quite observant, I must say."

"Uh, thank you, I guess."

"So, let me see if I've got this straight. You're worried that these miniscule adjustments to our business strategy may adversely affect your current state of employ?"

"Sorta, yeah."

"Alfie, my boy, how much are we paying you now for your butlering and wood-working services?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing, eh? As in zero?"

"Correct, sir. I get paid zero salary for my services."

"But we do provide you with room and board, do we not?"

"Yes, if you consider room and board to be sleeping in a closet and eating stale cookies."

"And now you're worried about losing all these benefits?"

"Well, I am a Christian and it looks like I may be the only truly good person currently involved in this devilish enterprise."

"Well, it's always good to have a decent person around to bounce ideas off of and keep us focused on our ultimate mission of altruistic philanthropy."

"I'm glad to hear that is still our mission, sir."

"Of course it is, Alfie! Just because I'm now a so-called blood-thirsty vampire and I'm teaming up with a demon from Hell, doesn't mean I don't want to provide all the good children with presents on Christmas Eve!"

"Okay..."

"Also, when we set up our new shop, some of your toy-making burden will be relieved and I'll make sure you get an actual room to live in, so your queer self can finally come out of the closet."

"My queer self, sir?"

"Excuse me, I forgot that your curtailed height causes a lot of things to go over your head."

"My curtailed height, sir?"

Santa sneered, "Is there anything else, Alfie?"

"Well, there is but I'm hesitant to say anything..."

Santa bared his fangs and yelled, "Out with it, fag! I don't have all day!"

Alfie stuttered, "I, I, I don't trust this Krampus fellow. I think he has a less than honorable interest in Missus Claus."

"Do you have any evidence of this serious accusation toward my new business partner?"

"N-n-no, sir, I just have my suspicions."

"Well, until you have proof, I'd advise you to keep your dirty-minded suspicions to yourself."

"Yes, sir."

CHAPTER 3

A vast wasteland of snow, glimmering in the moonlight, stretched out before a party of weary travelers. The only sounds in the night were the tramping of feet in the snow and the chanting of a marching tune. Succubus One and Succubus Two were carrying one of those litter-type carriage contraptions, like royalty used to be lugged around in before horses replaced the slaves. Krampus was snoring comfortably inside the carriage, well out of sight.

The marching refrain came from a chorus of female voices, pulling sluggishly on Santa's sleigh, their restrain interrupted occasionally by a yelp-producing whip crack. Joining Santa on the sleigh was Mrs. Claus and Alfie, who winced every time the leather whip cut into the tender flesh of the reindeer girls.

Marching, marching,

Driving through the snow,

Our hot bodies are freezing,

From our toesies to our nosies.

Marching, marching,

Hiking 'cross this ice,

Our battered legs are tiring,

While the whip takes another slice.

Marching, marching,

How long can we go on?

We're weak from their feeding,

And our souls are all but gone.

Marching, marching,

Oh look how we suffer,

Our hope it is fleeting

As our trek gets even tougher.

Marching, marching,

We're hungry and we're cold,

Our guts are all cramping,

From the plugs that we must hold.

From time to time, Alfie would raise a pair of opera glasses to his eyes, but usually could discern nothing in the distance. This time, however...

"De Place! De Place, boss! De Place!" the little man yelled up toward the big man.

Santa looked down on Alfie and snatched the opera glasses from his tiny hands.

A large castle-like structure could be seen emerging in the dark distance.

"He's right!" Santa announced to Mrs. Claus. "Our destination can be seen up ahead!"

He then directed his enthusiasm at the reindeer, via the whip of course. "Now, Dasher! Now, Dancer! Now, Prancer, and Vixen! On, Comet! On, Cupid! On, Donna and Blitzkrieg!"

Eventually, the travel party pulled up to a large stable house adjacent to the castle. Santa grabbed one of the torches from the sleigh and jumped down to the ground. Alfie followed him to the entrance of the stable and was soon handed the torch, along with a shovel that Santa found leaning against the wall.

"Alfie," Santa instructed, "see to it that the reindeer are locked into their stables and given some unfrozen water. Also, once you remove their tails, you may need the shovel to clean up."

"Yes, sir."

Santa motioned with his arm toward Mrs. Claus. "Come, Missus Claus, and let's inspect the facilities. Perhaps we can find some food for the reindeer. We want to keep them healthy and strong, after all."

"You got that right!" she replied, licking her chapped lips.

Santa, Mrs. Claus, Krampus and the Succubi approached the entryway to the castle. The huge wooden doors suddenly burst open, revealing Rudolpho in the threshold. He opened his arms wide in an inviting gesture and smiled at his friends, his gold teeth sparkling like brass knuckles during a mob negotiation.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Christmasland! The place where every good boy and girl wishes they could visit and hang out with Jolly Ole Saint Nick and his horny entourage!"

As the eager group walked past Rudolpho, he added, "No offense meant toward you, of course, Missus Claus."

"None taken, Rudolpho," the horndog replied.

Once everyone was inside and Rudolpho closed the massive doors, Krampus glanced around the warm parlor, taking note of the festive decorations, numerous wall torches and large fireplace. "I love what you've done with the place, Rudolpho!" Krampus gushed.

"Thank you, Krampus," thanked Rudolpho. "Let's do a quick tour of Christmasland, shall we? Follow me... We'll start with the bedrooms down this hall."

Rudolpho opened the first door they encountered in the long hallway. The spacious bedroom contained a large over-sized bed, a fireplace and other humble furnishings.

"This is the master bedroom, reserved for Mister and Missus Claus, of course," Rudolpho informed the onlookers - or inlookers, since they were crowded together looking into the room. "It features the largest bed I could locate in the fall catalog, considering Santa's massive accouterments."

Santa added, "Excuse me?"

"Also, please notice the absence of windows, which means none of that pesky sunshine can penetrate the room."

Mrs. Claus, who slyly winked at Krampus without Santa noticing, concluded, "Hopefully, there'll be some penetration in the room."

Santa added, "Excuse me?"

"Notice this empty side of the room, which is eventually where your new sleeping coffins will be placed. In the meantime, you'll have to sleep on the bed like us normal folk."

Santa added, "Excuse me?"

Mrs. Claus asked, "When will our sleeping coffins be ready, Rudolpho?"

"The construction will commence as soon as the first shipment of Krampus Kids arrives, which should be in a day or so, according to the traffickers."

"Yes," agreed Krampus. "Before the first brat even thinks about making a toy, I'll make sure they finish your permanent sleeping quarters... Then the bed can be used for... other activities."

Mrs. Claus smiled, knowing Krampus meant to fuck her repeatedly on the bed like the whore she was.

Like the ignorant cuckold he was, Santa insisted, "And make sure they use quality wood. I don't want to rest in some stinky pine box like a filthy peasant."

"We're well aware of your aversion to stinky boxes, Santa," Krampus responded.

Missus Claus added, "Excuse me?"

"I assure you, Santa," Krampus concluded. "It will not be long before both you and Missus Claus can finally rest in peace, so to speak."

Rudolpho motioned to close the door, mentioning, "Very well then, let's continue the tour."

Santa was the first to begin following Rudolpho, while Krampus allowed the Succubi to precede himself and Mrs. Claus. Krampus then whispered to Mrs. Claus, "Speaking of RIP, I plan to rip these clothes off you later."

"Promises, promises, Krampus," she answered. "First you'll have to find a way to distract the fat man long enough to rip off anything."

"Not a problem, sweetheart. Not a problem at all."

The characters approached the next door and waited for Rudolpho to open it. The red- and black-painted room with goat's head pentagram patterns across the walls interested the tourists enough to file inside past Rudolpho. There were three single beds in the bizarre room, plus a bunch of framed pictures adorned the weird-assed walls.

"I've taken the liberty of designating this bedroom to Krampus, and to Succubus One and Succubus Two. Notice the three beds, which can of course be pushed together as needed."

"Look girls," Krampus observed. "You won't have to sleep on the floor anymore."

Succubus One and Succubus Two jumped up and down and clapped wildly, as succubi are apt to do.

"Unless, of course, you disappoint me and I make you sleep on the floor," Krampus added.

"Krampus, have you noticed the pictures on the wall?" asked Rudolpho.

Krampus strolled over to a wall like a pretentious prick at an art gallery. Holding his hand to his chin, he nodded in appreciation of the images depicted in the pictures, which contained crude ancient Chinese illustrations of various graphic sex acts, like in that Carnal Sutra book.

"Ah yes, man's immorality to man, err woman," he pronounced. "Very nice. Very nice, indeed. Nothing like primitive porn to get the old juices flowing."

He then pointed to one picture and turned toward the others, stating, "Hey look, Missus Claus, this woman getting boned in the butt looks just like you!"

Santa added, "Excuse me?"

"Oh, Krampus," Mrs. Claus blushed. "You are such a kidder. Isn't he funny, Santa?"

"Yeah," Santa sneered. "Funny like a Shakespearean comedy, my dear."

After an uncomfortable silence, Rudolpho moved toward the door. "Let's continue on to my favorite room, shall we?"

Once again, Santa fell in behind Rudolpho and the Succubi followed next. Krampus and Mrs. Claus were the last to leave the room.

"Shakespearean comedy?" Krampus murmured to her shrewdly. "Of course, my favorite one is the Taming of the Shrew. Don't you agree, my little shrew?"

Rudolpho proudly led the group to his bedroom, which was immediately recognizable to Santa and Krampus as soon as the door was opened. Mrs. Claus may have recognized the decor too.

As the group entered the room, Rudolpho exclaimed, "Welcome to my less-than-humble abode! As you can see, I brought the furnishings directly from Rudolpho's House of Whores. I shall be staying on here at Christmasland as the head chef, whoremonger and general middle management associate!"

"As long as you let me bake the cookies," volunteered Mrs. Claus.

"But of course, Missus Claus," Rudolpho acknowledged with a quick bow.

"Yes, you're a regular Renaissance Man, Rudolpho," Krampus commented. "Perhaps that's what the 'R' represents on your gold chain."

"Why thank you, Krampus. I try my best."

Santa spoke up, asking, "Will there also be a bedroom available for my half-man servant, Alfie?"

"Actually," Rudolpho answered, "I'm sorry that I didn't think of designating a special room for..."

Krampus interrupted, "... for that little shit? Let him sleep in the closet for all I care!"

"Krampus! You hush!" scolded Mrs. Claus.

"Yes," added Santa. "I sort of promised the little fellow his own room here at Christmasland."

"Might I make a suggestion?" suggested Rudolpho. "Perhaps he can have a cot in the toy-making bunker where the children will be sleeping, when they're not working. I believe he'll be helping to manage that area anyway, am I correct, Krampus?"

Krampus grunted, "Humph, I suppose so."

Rudolpho concluded, "In fact, I planned on taking our group to the toy factory next."

When the group turned toward the door to exit, they all saw Alfie standing in the doorway with his tiny arms crossed.

"My ears were burning," he announced.

Krampus slashed the air in front of him with the crop, demanding, "Clear the way or I'll make more than your ears burn, you quarter-liter queer!"

The group, including Alfie, followed Rudolpho into the workshop area, which was equipped with various hand tools and supplies, such as wood and other building materials, along with work benches, etcetera, etcetera. There was also an assemblage of cots in one corner, and what appeared to be a staircase leading down to the basement in another corner.

Santa was impressed, and complimented, "Very nice, Rudolpho! I can see a great many toys being made in this workshop!"

"Thank you, Santa. I kind of bought out a hardware store and had it moved here."

"Yes," added Krampus, "and soon this room will be filled with the sights, smells and sounds of industry! The hammering and sawing of woodworking and metalcraft, and the cries and moans of the busy workers!"

Looking toward the mysterious corner, Mrs. Claus asked, "Rudolpho, where do those stairs lead in the back of the room?"

"Ah yes," he answered. "Those stairs lead to a special counseling room where Krampus will escort any workers who might fall behind on their productivity."

"Like a dungeon?" inquired Alfie.

Krampus pointed the crop in Alfie's direction. "I know, lil' man, why don't you scurry over to the sleeping area and pick out a cot for yourself before the workers arrive?"

Alfie glanced inquisitively at Santa, who nodded in response, and then Alfie stomped off to find a cot to nap.

Rudolpho clapped his hands to gain the group's attention and proposed, "Let's proceed! We still have a couple of special rooms to visit! Look! There's a special room right over there!"

Rudolpho walked the group toward a glass door within the workshop, which had a sign on it reading, "SANTA'S OFFICE." Rudolpho opened the door and allowed the curious to look inside the smallish office space, which contained a desk, bookshelf, and other typical furnishings.

"Ah ha," Santa proclaimed. "This is where I shall keep track of all the good children and read their wonderful Christmas correspondence!"

Krampus added, "And don't forget to keep that Naughty List up to date too, so I know who to pick up on my rounds."

"I haven't let you down yet, have I Krampus?" Santa answered. "You wouldn't know what to do if you didn't have access to my annual list of naughty children."

"Don't flatter yourself, fat man."

Santa added, "Excuse me?"

Rudolpho interceded, "Speaking of calories, we should all proceed to the room Missus Claus has been waiting to see! Yes, the kitchen!"

Alfie angrily rolled over in his uncomfortable cot as the group left the workshop.

The kitchen was an industrial-sized facility with a large coal and/or wood-burning stove, various pots and/or pans, a pump sink, and lots of spacious countertops and cabinetry. The group oohed and aahed at the state-of-the-art culinary gadgetry, state-of-the-art for that time period anyway.

"In here I just feel like a pampered chef," the self-designated chef Rudolpho espoused.

"Oh my," observed Mrs. Claus. "It's so humungous!"

"That's what she said," responded Krampus.

Santa glared at Krampus, and then walked toward a couple of large burlap bags piled on the floor. One bag was labeled as carrots and the other as potatoes.

"Rudolpho, are these bags for my reindeer?"

"Yes, sir, they are!"

"You think of everything, don't you?"

"Like I've said, I always try my best. I want to make Christmasland the best place ever!"

Santa picked up both bags and threw them over his broad shoulders like sacks of toys, then told the others, "While you all continue to explore the kitchen, I'm going to bring my girls some reindeer chow."

CHAPTER 4

While Santa was busy with the reindeer, feeding them and feeding from them, Krampus and Mrs. Claus became busy in his subterranean "counseling room."

Mrs. Claus hesitantly descended the stairs of the dark dank dirt-floored dungeon. "You requested my presence, Master?"

Krampus was in the center of the room, seated in some kind of early dental chair type appliance thingy. "I guess we need to set up some ground rules for when you meet me in the Counseling Room," answered Krampus. "Firstly, you should never address me down here while you are clothed."

Mrs. Klaus kicked off her shoes near the stairway and walked bare foot toward Krampus, unfastening her dress as she approached the demon.

"Just the dress at this time, bitch," he instructed. "I'll take care of the underthings."

By the time she reached the center of the room, Mrs. Claus stood in front of Krampus with her dress in hand, trembling in a white chemise that daintily covered her body from her satiny shoulders to her creamy calves. Krampus grinned as he jumped up from the chair. He retrieved her dress and draped it across the chair, protecting it from the dirt floor.

Krampus then took her sweaty hand and led her to a wall where a large wooden "X" structure loomed. The structure was at least six feet tall and was comprised of two heavy wood beams that crossed in the center. Four metal rings were attached at the outer ends of the beams. "Face the wall and spread your legs wide," he commanded.

Krampus leaned down and grabbed some nearby rope from the floor. He patiently tied a strand of rope onto each of her ankles and then secured the opposite ends to the lower rings. He repeated the process with her wrists and the upper rings, until she was spread out wide against the wooden "X." She couldn't help but whimper, even though she hoped he didn't hear her.

"Very nice," Krampus stated as he admired his work. "I hope the bindings are secure enough to keep you firmly in place, but still not cut off the circulation... Not that you could die, anyway, vamp whore."

Krampus walked to the opposite wall, where a variety of whips, straps and other implements of corporal punishment were displayed. He selected a long thin whip from the collection and immediately began swishing it through the air. Mrs. Claus knew he had returned and was standing behind her as soon as she felt the first slash cross her back. "Aargh," she extolled.

Her fists clenched, her toes curled and her major muscles tightened from the sudden pang of sharp pain.

"Soon both your body and your mind will know who is in control," he said as he wound up his arm for another full strike.

The follow-up strike crossed the first and solicited a similar response, along with the head of Mrs. Claus jerking backward. "Ugh."

Krampus continued working on her back until blood began soaking through the chemise and sticking to her scathed skin. "I-I-I fear I shall faint at any moment, Master."

"I do not permit you to pass out, you hear me?" Krampus demanded.

"Yes, M-master, you are in control..."

"Damn straight, I am," he added. "But to show you some mercy, I will now concentrate on your plump ass!"

Being a man, err demon, of his word, he cut the whip into her chemise-covered ass cheeks. "Yikes!" she yelled.

The thin chemise danced like a white flag under fire from an enraged enemy, accentuated by the battle cries of a defeated foe. "Ay yai yai, my fucking ass!" she cried as stroke after stroke tore up her chemise and her cheeks.

Soon her chemise was cut into bloody ribbons, her newly-revealed thigh muscles shuddering and convulsing after each subsequent stroke. She tried to twist away from the onslaught, but the ropes held her securely in place for each punishing blow.

"Now, let's go back up and shred the top of your gown!" he exclaimed in a fervor.

Mrs. Claus moaned, and soon slumped in her restraints, the ropes at her wrists being the only ballast keeping her battered body from buckling onto the floor. The upper part of her undergarment did indeed begin to shred, revealing blood-streaked welts that were most prevalent across her spine and her shoulder blades. Soon the tattered garment fell unrestrained to her feet, while her body remained attached to the wooden "X."

Now the tip of the whip curled freely around her side, biting into her tender breasts, but she could only whimper in response, having been brought to the point of near unconsciousness. She knew she did not have permission to pass out, so she fought to remain as responsive as possible. She braced her forehead against the wall and clenched her teeth while the whipping continued.

Krampus could hear her sobbing over the whip cracks and stopped his attack. He moved close to her, careful not to get any blood on himself, and quietly asked, "Do you think you've had enough?"

It took a moment for Mrs. Claus to stop crying and choking on her tears, but eventually she managed to murmur, "More. I need more. Please whip me like the whore that I am."

Krampus stepped back and responded, "Say no more. I'm happy to oblige. In fact, I grant you permission to pass out this time."

Which she quickly did.

Krampus dropped the scourge at her swoon, and his pretense, as he lustfully moved toward her. He grabbed her limp body at the hips and directed her bloody ass against his bulging crotch. Her subjugated sphincter proved no match for his sound sword.

Speaking of sounds, unconscious groans erupted from the throat of Mrs. Claus when Krampus began forcefully fucking her ass. Her guttural groaning was only surpassed when the throbbing of the cock caused its owner to groan like a gorilla at the sight of a Goodall. "Damn!" he screamed as his boiling hot juice shot into her massacred asshole.

He fell to his knees in exhaustion and stayed there until he mustered enough strength to cut Mrs. Claus free from the "X."

Now it was Mrs. Claus on the ground, as unresponsive as the day she first realized she had wasted her life on a fat fuck of a husband. Krampus leaned down and stroked her sweat-matted hair. Then he grabbed a clump of hair, lifted her head, and smacked the hell out of her face until she came to...

"Wha-wha..." the confused woman mumbled.

"Open your mouth, you dumb fuck, and keep it open!" snarled Krampus.

Although still not completely connected to reality, she did as she was told and soon had a mouthful of demon dick.

"Lick it clean, bitch," he told her. "Lick it clean or you'll be back on the rack."

Mrs. Claus gagged from the nasty appendage that had just wrecked her rectum, but licked and sucked on the semi-erect pecker until it was as clean as a Christmas chimney.

Meanwhile, an elfish peeper surreptitiously watched, and took notes, at the top of the Counseling Room steps.

CHAPTER 5

Standing impatiently like a pimp outside his best ho's motel room, Rudolpho waited on the icy platform of a desolate train station not far from the Christmasland castle. His arms were crossed to keep his thick fur coat as close to his body as possible to fend off the freezy breezes that swept across the barren winter landscape. Occasionally, he glanced inside the ticket window and sneered at the clerk, who was snuggly sleeping on a chair next to a furnace.

With still no train in sight, Rudolpho suddenly banged on the ticket window, almost causing the shocked clerk to fall on the floor.

The startled man angrily slid open the window and asked, "Can I help you?"

"Yes, can you tell me if the Polar Express is running on time?"

"The what?" asked the clerk. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Rudolpho pointed to the sign above the window, which read: PolEx.

"I assume Pol Ex is short for Polar Express?"

"No," snapped the clerk. "It's short for Poland Express, you pigmented Pollock."

Rudolpho reached inside his coat to retrieve his switchblade, but was distracted by a far off train whistle. "Never mind, smart ass."

The longer Rudolpho watched the train, the slower it seemed to approach. Even once it stopped alongside the station, it took a while for the conductor to appear. The conductor slowly climbed down to the platform, clutching a clipboard and being careful not to slip on the ice. He crept past a shivering Rudolpho and headed toward the ticket window.

The clerk slid the window back open.

"Hey, Bob."

"Hey, Bill."

"How's it goin', Bob."

"Same as always, Bill. How 'bout you?"

"Same as same as, Bob."

"How's the family, Bill?

"They're fine, Bob. How's yours?"

"They're fine, Bill."

"How 'bout this weather, Bob?"

Rudolpho jumped in. "Excuse me, gentlemen, but it's damned cold out here and I'm waiting for an urgent delivery."

"Yep, this weather is really something, Bill."

"That's for sure, Bob. That's for sure."

Rudolpho seriously considered pulling his knife again, but the conductor raised the clipboard.

"Hey, Bill."

"Yeah, Bob."

"Says here I got a delivery for some fellow named Rude Dolphin, or something. You know him, Bill?"

"Can't say that I do, Bob. Can't say that I do."

Rudolpho, interjected, "Are you kidding me? I'm standing right, here. And my name is pronounced Rudolpho!"

"I believe that's the man you're lookin' for, right there, Bob."

"I believe you're right, Bill. I just need him to sign off for receipt of the delivery."

The conductor held the clipboard toward Rudolpho and then fished around for a writing implement in his multi-pocketed conductor's coat.

"Now where did that pencil go off to? I swear I had it not too long ago when I was doin' my doodlin'."

Rudolpho's left eye began to twitch.

"Maybe you left it on the train, Bob."

"Maybe I did, Bill. Maybe I did," agreed Bob. "'Cause I was just doodlin' with it not too long ago."

"Are you guys just fucking with me?" Rudolpho asked. "Or are y'all just retarded?"

"Patience is a virtue, my friend," answered the conductor. "Now if you'll just excuse me for a moment while I go back on the train to find my pencil..."

"What?!" exclaimed Rudolpho, immediately pointing toward the ticket window. "Bill here has a pencil in his motherfucking hand!"

"But that's a schedulin' pencil, not a doodlin' pencil," the conductor explained. "Isn't that right, Bill?"

"That's right, Bob," agreed Bill. "But maybe we can make an exception for Mister Rudedolphin, seein' he seems to be in an awful hurry and all."

"Well..." began the conductor.

"Well?" asked Rudolpho.

"Well?" asked the ticket clerk.

"Well... I guess just this once it'll be okay."

Rudolpho took the initiative to reach inside the window and snatch the pencil from the clerk's grip. "Where do I sign?"

"Right at the bottom will be just fine," the conductor answered. "If you can't write your name, you can just sign with your mark."

"What do you mean, if I can't write my name? You think I'm stupid or something?"

"Don't mean nothing by it, Mister Rudedolphin," the conductor replied as he watched the impatient man sign his name.

Rudolpho then tossed the pencil back through the ticket window. "Here you go, Bill. Be careful you don't doodle with that thing."

Ignoring the aggression, the conductor simply stated, "Follow me, sir."

The clerk mumbled, "Dumb Pollock."

The conductor led Rudolpho to a freight car, box-shaped, in fact. He pulled a large sliding door open with his clipboard-free hand, revealing a massive wooden crate inside the car. The crate displayed a red arrow on the side, pointing downward, along with the upside-down words: THIS SIDE UP. There was also a red-lettered warning: SEMI-FRAGILE.

The conductor pointed to a leather strap attached to the bottom of the crate. "I'm going to the other side to push, if you'll be kind enough to pull from this side."

"Whatever, Bob."

The conductor made sure to take the long way around the train to reach the opposite side of the freight car and slide the other door open. "All right, Mister Rudedolphin, I'm over here," yelled the conductor, once he was over there. "Are you ready to pull from your side?"

"Whatever, Bob."

As Rudolpho stood idly by, he heard the conductor announce: "Okay, then! Count-ah Three!...One!... Two!... Three! Pull, pull, pull, pull!"

Rudolpho didn't pull shit, but watched the crate inch forward a bit and halt. "Damn that's heavy!" whined the conductor, stopping to catch his breath. "I think we've almost got it, though! Let's go again! Ready? One!... Two!... Three! Pull!"

This time the crate moved all the way across the floor of the freight car and teetered on the threshold. "Stand clear, Mr. Rudedolphin! One more push ought to send it over the edge!" Rudolpho had already been standing clear.

Rudolpho watched as the wooden crate came tumbling out of the freight car and smashed apart in front of him, sending flailing bodies of screaming children across the ground like a Twister game interrupted by an earthquake. A dozen kids of all shapes, sizes, nationalities and emotional well-beings rolled around on the frozen ground, moaning and groaning like the spoiled brats they were.

The conductor looked down from the open freight car and exclaimed, "What the hell is that mess?"

"Santa's little helpers," explained Rudolpho.

"I was wonderin' what the air holes in the box was for," laughed the conductor.

"Well, now you know, Bob."

"Yep, now I know," concluded the conductor as he slammed the sliding door shut from inside.

Rudolpho waited a moment until the kids had settled down some, then clapped his hands. "All right, all right, already!" he called out. "Stop the dramatics! Nobody fucking gives a shit!"

The confused children slowly got to their feet, some picking splinters out of their exposed skin. Many were crying, while some were still in a daze, perhaps with concussions. They were all dressed in rags and covered in their own filth.

"Okay, I brought some strands of rope with me in the sleigh," announced Rudolpho. "While I fetch the rope, you urchins need to find you some broken slats of wood that you can tie to your feet. You won't make it to Christmasland without some kind of snowshoes! Your free ride is over, you hear me? You'll be hoofin' it the rest of the way!"

While the unruly urchins were strapping small pieces of wood onto their swollen feet, Rudolpho loaded the larger boards onto the sleigh. One piece of broken board resembled a paddle that his momma used to use on him when he wouldn't get up for school. Rudolpho used the board to get the reindeer pumped up for the journey back to Christmasland, beating each of their plugged-up asses until they were black and blue.

***

Once the new arrivals had arrived at Christmasland, Alfie wasted no time introducing himself to the fidgety fuckwads as they nervously sat at workbenches in the factory area, some rubbing their frost-bitten footsies.

"Santa will address you shortly... My name is Alfie, but you should refer to me as Sir. I am the shop foreman and I'll be supervising you in the making of toys that Santa will deliver to the good children on Christmas Eve.

"Basically, this process will work as follows: I receive the toy lists from Santa, which the good children have sent him. I review the lists and make notes as to what patterns or plans to use in the construction of the toys. Then I'll assign the lists to you workers, so you can begin work on the toys. It's important that you work on one list at a time, so no child's gifts get mixed up and we can avoid disappointments on Christmas morn."

Alfie walked over to some filing cabinets and continued his spiel. "This is where the plans for the toys are kept. If you have difficulty finding something or understanding a pattern, just let me know because I've built all these toys many times over.

"You all have some basic tools at your workbenches, but here against the wall are some others that may help you in the construction of certain toys. We also have plenty of paints, glues and other accessories. If you can't find something, don't hesitate to ask..."

***

Meanwhile, Rudolpho entered the kitchen while Mrs. Claus was baking another tray of cookies for Santa Claus.

"Excuse me, but Alfie is finishing up his orientation and the workers are expecting to hear from you, Santa."

Santa begrudgingly stood up from the table, responding, "Very well then."

"The cookies will be waiting for you when you return," sang Mrs. Claus as her husband stomped out of the room.

Rudolpho then turned to Mrs. Claus and announced, "And Krampus requires your immediate presence in his bedroom, Missus Claus."

"Very, very, well then!"

***

When Santa entered the toy shop, one child laborer was asking Alfie where the stairs led in the back of the room.

"Ah yes," Alfie responded. "Those stairs lead to a special Counseling Room where our product inspector, Mister Krampus, will escort any worker who might be lacking in their productivity or their attitude. Believe me, you want to avoid such counseling if possible."

Santa made his presence known with a hearty, "You got that right, Alfie!"

"Well, hello, Santa! The workers have been waiting to hear from you!"

"Very well, then," answered Santa. "Would you kids like to hear a little song?"

The children cheered, expressing their enthusiasm for the jolly old coot's offer. As Santa sat on the edge of a table facing his audience, Alfie handed him a guitar. Santa strummed the strings to ensure it was in tune. "You're excused now, Alfie," Santa added.

"Yes, sir."

Santa played a few basic chords as an introduction, then sang for the children:

Because you're young, you may believe

That the very meaning of life

Is full of nothing but birds and bees

But there's also struggling and strife.

For I am here to tell you all

As your mentor and your friend

That some people's lives shall befall

To painful anguish that won't end.

Some people are born privileged

It's really not their choice

While others' lives are pillaged

And they'll never have a voice.

Life's not fair; get used to it

Your needs aren't worth my spit.

Life's not fair; get used to it

As your future turns to shit.

But even the doomed are useful

Yes even you workers can help

For you can serve the good people

As part of the proletariat.

So don't be jealous of others

Who have much more than you

Treat them like sisters and brothers

Who give you their chores to do.

Like Christmas is a time of giving

As Jesus's birth proclaimed

All your sins, He has forgiven

But your service is ordained.

Life's not fair; get used to it

Your needs aren't worth my spit.

Life's not fair; get used to it

As your future turns to shit...

CHAPTER 6

While Santa was busy bullshitting the worker bees, Krampus was all comfy in his red bathrobe, as he sat in a fluffy chair by his bed, reading from some nasty book and munching on something contained in a cup. He eventually heard a knock on the bedroom door.

"Come in, my dear!" he called out.

Mrs. Claus entered the room and closed the door.

As she approached Krampus, she asked, "What are you eating, Krampy? Are my cookies not good enough for snacking?"

Krampus glanced inside his cup and then held it out for Mrs. Claus to inspect. "I'm snacking on human teeth, sweetie. Would you like some?"

"Eww!" she answered.

"Don't knock it, hun. The consumption of human teeth by a demon provides a sexual virility that mere mortals can never attain."

Krampus placed his cup and book on a side table, then leaned back in the chair and opened his robe. "Check it out, Missus Claus!"

"I've got something for you to check out too," added Mrs. Claus as she unbuttoned her blouse.

Krampus jumped up, licking his lips in anticipation. "Did I fail to mention that eating human teeth also makes my tongue more versatile?"

Krampus proceeded to unbutton the rest of her blouse, flinging it to the floor, before pulling at the clasps of her dress and her undergarment. He stripped her nude while stroking his big dick with both hands. "Wow, that tongue of yours really is versatile!" exclaimed Mrs. Claus.

"And that's not all it can do!" promised Krampus, as his thong-like tongue poked between the legs of Mrs. Claus while she stood in front of him. The tip tickled her asshole, then slipped across her taint and finally separated her cunt lips, as it continued on its carnal journey up through her pube patch, over her tummy (stopping for a quick spin inside her navel), between her boobs and into her mouth.

Mrs. Claus initially gagged on the tip of his intruding tongue, a result of the ass sweat, pubic hair and belly button lint that it picked up along the way. She felt her knees go weak and immediately kneeled down in front of her master. As soon as Krampus withdrew his tongue from her mouth, the cavity was refilled with the throbbing girth of his organ grinder. His tongue found refuse elsewhere, exploring the smaller cavities of her waxy ears and her crusty nostrils. And when his tongue blocked her nose from inhaling, and she began to choke violently on his canine cock, his tongue quickly licked away her salty tears.

He accomplished all these frisky feats with his hands clasped behind his back, smiling down at his submissive concubine. Soon the left boob of Mrs. Claus turned the same beet red color as her face, as Krampus wrapped his tongue fully around the orb and tugged upward. There was still enough length to his tongue to allow for the nipple to be tweaked and twisted by the tip. Mrs. Claus managed to keep focused on the hard hot harpoon hammering into her throat, using her own tongue as best as she was able.

Krampus moved his body forward until Mrs. Claus fell backward onto the floor, leaving her mouth temporarily empty. Krampus climbed on top of her and slid his dick into her slit. His tongue then returned home to her mouth, twisting around her tongue like a giraffe claiming a fresh banana. As Krampus fucked her moist mound, he placed both his hands on her forehead, holding her head forcefully against the floor. He then began tugging at her entombed tongue, making her think he intended to rip it from her mouth.

Soon her bloodshot eyes balls bulged from their sockets, saliva sprayed from her gaping mouth and dark blood began to trickle from her flared nostrils. Even her ears ached as the blood racing to her head, along with the mounting pain, convinced her she was on the verge of a stroke.

But as frightened and panicked as she became, Mrs. Claus still managed to come - and come hard, even though her screams were muted by her tormented and twisted tongue. When Krampus shot his load into her quivering quim, he mercifully untangled his tongue from hers and laughed as she sobbed. She brought her fingers into her mouth to ensure that her tongue was still attached. The flood of tears from her eyes and the stream of blood from her nose made her choke as the facial fluids filled her swollen mouth.

Mrs. Claus slobbered and spit, "Owbah, yoush weally hwet meh!"

Krampus laughed even harder, mocking her temporary speech impediment. "Owbah, owbah, owbah, mah mowf be hweting! Owbah, owbah, owbah!"

"Thop ith, Kwamputh! Ith noth funnith."

"What?"

"Ah thed to thop ith!"

"Sorry sweetie, but I don't speak Retard," he chuckled, still positioned between her legs so she couldn't kick him.

Mrs. Claus then howled and cried louder.

"Oh, you're all right," teased Krampus as he rolled off her blubbering body. "I wouldn't risk detaching the thing that gives my cock so much pleasure."

Krampus managed to roll out of the field of vision, the field of vision as accessed through the keyhole of the bedroom door, the bedroom door where Alfie just happened to be stationed in the hallway. Alfie pulled his spying eye back from the keyhole, shook his head, and added a few scribbles to his notebook.

CHAPTER 7

Twelve-year-old 202499 jerked suddenly at his workbench when Krampus tossed a small wooden wagon toy in front of him.

"What the fuck is this, two-oh-two-four-nine-nine?"

"A s-small wooden wagon toy, sir?"

"Don't you mean a small wooden wagon toy with one wheel larger than the others?"

202499 tried pushing the small wooden wagon toy across the surface of his workbench and found to his dismay that it was indeed a small wooden wagon toy with one wheel larger than the others, as evidenced by its wobbly performance.

"It-it looks like the one wheel is larger than the others, sir," admitted 202499, who was now sweating profusely. "I will fix it right up and make sure it does not happen again, sir."

"Well, I think we need to discuss this in the Counseling Room, two-oh-two-four-nine-nine."

"The C-counseling Room, sir? I'm terribly sorry this happened, sir. Like I said, it won't happen again..."

"Come with me, two-oh-two-four-nine-nine," Krampus demanded, grabbing the boy by the shoulder. "By the way, the paint job on the wagon also looks like crap."

The other children at their workbenches pretended not to notice, but carefully watched out of the corners of their eyes as Krampus pushed 202499 toward the stairway at the back of the room. Sympathetic tears then formed in the corners of those eyes.

The demon's steely grip on his boney shoulder was painful enough to cause the boy to stumble slightly as he descended the steps and entered the dark subterranean room. The only object visible in the room was a bizarre-looking chair with a variety of restraints attached.

"Take a seat over there, two-oh-two-four-nine-nine," commanded Krampus as he gave the kid a quick kick in the ass.

As soon as the boy was seated, Succubus One and Succubus Two emerged from the shadows, wearing tight-fitting nursing scrubs, and began strapping the youngster into the chair. The panicked boy immediately started to struggle, but the Succubi had the sick situation well under control. "What - what's happening? Why are you doing this to me?" squalled 202499.

Once the Succubi backed away, Krampus explained, "Not only am I not happy with your work, two-oh-two-four-nine-nine, but I'm also not happy in my work. Some day I'd like to be a dentist. We need one up here. It's fascinating. You have no idea... Molars, bicuspids and incisors..."

"What are you talking about?" cried the boy. "You're scaring me!"

Krampus clapped his claws, prompting the reemergence of Succubus One and Succubus Two, one carrying a medical stand containing a collection of terrifying tools, like hand drills and tongs, and two taking position behind the chair.

"I'm just going to make sure all your teeth are uniform in size, so your mouth will work like a well-balanced wagon wheel," announced Krampus as he selected the plier-like tongs. "Open wide!"

202499 had no choice but to open wide, since Succubus Two had reached around the front of the chair and pinched his nostrils shut. As the boy took his first beleaguered breath through his patulous piehole, Krampus located a particularly awkward-sized wisdom tooth and grabbed hold of it with the tongs. Succubus Two had to place her other hand under the lad's chin in order to keep 202499's head steady while Krampus violently twisted and tugged at the tenacious tooth.

"Aiyeee!" screamed the boy as the nerve endings of his tooth protested its premature removal. His arms and legs strained against the restraints, then restrained again and again against the restraints with each new twist of the tongs. Clockwise, counterclockwise and pull; clockwise, counterclockwise and pull...

When the tooth finally let loose, blood spurted from the boy's yelping yap and Krampus almost fell backward. But he soon regained his balance and patiently dropped his unburied treasure into his favorite tooth cup. After regaining his composure, he told the boy, "I believe that was not your only wisdom tooth..."

***

Succubus One and Two carried 202499 to the Christmasland infirmary, under the direction of dental surgeon Krampus, who also instructed the demons to provide the boy with a "happy ending" to his ordeal. Unfortunately, 202499 did not immediately regain consciousness, so the Succubi simply licked the blood from the inside of his mouth and left him alone on a cot in the cold dark room.

In his dream state, 202499 was transported to the Island of Fucked-Up Toys. Rudolpho accompanied the boy on his dream journey, in hopes of finding a cure for syphilis. They traveled to the Island of Fucked-Up Toys on a blimp called Oh the Humanity, and soon discovered that an evil boy named Sid Phillips was attempting to destroy all the toys, who had become animated like in some kind of Bizarro novel. A Lesbian hippo named Clarice promised to help Rudolpho, only if the two visitors assisted her in tracking down the serial toy killer. 202499 tried to mend all the fucked-up toys, but Sid kept breaking them faster than he could fix them. Santa then arrived on the Island with his posse of reindeer girls and all the fucked-up toys came out of hiding to greet Father Christmas. With the all the toys gathered together, 202499 silently watched in horror as Santa joined Sid in setting fire to the fucked-up gathering. The burning toys shrieked in pain as dark smoke from their toxic paint rose in the polluted air. "No more toys! No more toys!" Santa yelled with glee over and over and over...

202499 rolled in his cot, spitting out more blood, as his feverish dream repeated itself over and over and over...

CHAPTER 8

As Christmas Eve approached, the number of children's letters to Santa increased and bags full of the pleading parcels arrived daily at Christmasland.

On one of those days, Santa heard a knock on his office door while he was working at his cluttered desk. Santa looked up from his work to see Rudolpho poking his head inside the office.

"Mail call!" Rudolpho called out.

"Just throw the bag down somewhere," Santa answered impatiently.

Entering the office with his pouty lip in full display, Rudolpho countered, "But I thought I'd help you go through it today. Pretty please, Mister Santa Claus... You promised that you'd let me help."

"Oh, all right then," begrudgingly agreed Santa. "Sit the fuck down."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Rudolpho excitedly replied as he sat down in a chair opposite Santa, still clutching the large mail bag to his heaving chest.

"Give it a break, Rudolpho, I'm in no mood for dramatics today," Santa cautioned. "Now dig out a letter."

Rudolpho placed the bag down on the floor in front of him. He then pulled out a letter with one hand and pulled out his switchblade knife with the other. In a matter of seconds, the blade snapped out of the handle and sliced through the envelope. The sheet of paper inside was then unfurled by Rudolpho and held up to his near-sighted eyes.

"Ah-hem," he cleared his throat. "Dear Santa..."

Rudolpho then stopped to chuckle and waved the paper in front of Santa.

"Oh, look!" Rudolpho laughed. "The little retard spelled Dear as D - E - E - R! Isn't that precious?"

"Just read the damn thing, Rudolpho!" Santa yelled.

"Okay, okay, already," Rudolpho acquiesced, before clearing his throat again. "Ah-hem... Dear Santa, my name is Mary and I've been very good all year. Please bring me a pony and the appropriate riding tackle. Some straw would also be nice. Thank you kindly, Mary."

Santa stood up, reached over the desk and swiped the letter from Rudolpho's hands. "Give me that! She'll get a doll and like it!"

As Santa wrote nasty notes on the paper, Rudolpho busied himself opening another envelope from the mail bag.

"This next one is from Billy," Rudolpho announced. "Ah-hem... Dear Santa, this has been a very hard autumn and winter for me and my family. My father has become ill and can no longer find work. My brothers and sisters don't want any toys for Christmas, but if you could bring us some food and maybe some medicine for father, it would be greatly appreciated. God bless you, Billy."

Rudolpho lowered the letter and solemnly looked at Santa. Santa grimly looked back at Rudolpho. Both men's eyelids began to twitch. Rudolpho then tumbled off the chair as both men burst out laughing. RROFL!

Sitting up on his knees with his hands clasped in front of Santa, Rudolpho cried out, "Oh, oh, Santa, my name is Billy and I don't want any toys for Christmas. But perhaps Missus Claus could cook us up a nice pot o' stew for delivery? Light on the salt and onions, please... Ha, ha, ha!"

"Ah yes," Santa guffawed. "And maybe I can bring some hot chicken soup for papa!"

***

While Santa was busy talking mishmash with Rudolpho, Mrs. Claus and Krampus were in the Christmasland kitchen mixing up their own amalgamation.

"Cook me up some Chicken Soup for the Soulless," urged Krampus, wrapping his arms around Mrs. Claus from behind.

"But what if Santa interrupts?" she coyly asked, realizing that Krampus was tugging at her apron as she stood before the large island-like counter in the center of the kitchen.

"Don't worry," he whispered in her ear. "Rudolpho is keeping the fatman busy in the office."

The devilish grin of Mrs. Claus was sensed by Krampus, even though he stood behind her, and was accented by her verbal consent. "In that case, let's get cooking," she purred.

Krampus immediately tore her clothes off and tossed her naked body onto the kitchen counter. Krampus then tore through the cupboards - all except one, to the relief of Alfie who was hiding inside.

Krampus pulled an assortment of canisters out of the cabinetry and the icebox, lining them up beside Mrs. Claus on the counter. He also grabbed a wooden mixing spoon and a large funnel from the collection of cooking instruments on the wall.

"But before we proceed with our recipe, we must preheat the oven!" he announced as he began using a paring knife to peel off the bark-like exterior of a large phallus-shaped ginger root.

"What do you plan to do with that?!" exclaimed Mrs. Claus.

"Heat up the coals under the oven, dear," Krampus explained as he shoved the shaved root into her southern-most stove pipe.

It didn't take long for the juices of the raw ginger to begin burning the mucous membrane of her raucous rectum. Mrs. Claus instinctively reached down to remove the painful plant from her posterior, but Krampus slapped her naughty hand away. "It burns, Krampus! Please take it out!" she begged as she rolled around on the cool counter.

"Oh, quit acting like a colicky baby," Krampus chastened. "It's not like I rammed a garlic bulb up your butt. Now that would really burn your vamp ass!"

Krampus grabbed the funnel and jammed the narrow end into her warming cuntoven. "Ow! Be careful with that thing," she protested.

Krampus carefully poured flour into the funnel.

He used the handle end of the wooden spoon to force the powdery ingredient through the funnel into her snatch. He followed the flour up with some caster sugar and a few cups of milk via the funnel. Then came a clump of butter and a couple whole eggs, which Krampus simply pushed into her snatch, thanks to the lubricating properties of the butter. Next was a dash of salt, which was administered via a thick long salt shaker.

"Okay, so the recipe doesn't call for yeast, but it looks like that final ingredient already comes with the bake pan," Krampus joked, as he jumped up onto the counter and positioned himself atop Mrs. Claus. "Now to mix it all up with my dick!"

"Doh!" she squalled.

"No cake!" he corrected.

The clingy combination of components felt cool around his cock. But the hodgepodge heated up once his thrusts became more hurried and harder. Liquids and solids squished from around her assaulted snatch, including stuff that may or may not have been inserted by Krampus. "Oh please, Krampy," cried Mrs. Claus. "It feels like my crotch is about to explode!"

"That's not all that's about to explode!" warned Krampus as his body tensed up to add the icing to the cake.

The Claus woman's belly shook like much more than just a bowl full of jelly, as her orgasm met with his in a carnal collision, the likes of which has never been equaled within the best French restaurants nor the worst Paris bordellos.

When Krampus rolled off his culinary conquest, he whispered, "I haven't forgotten it's your birthday. Let me get you some cake."

Mrs. Claus was too exhausted to protest, even when she felt the wooden spoon enter her womb. As Krampus scraped around inside her with the spoon, he reminded her that he was also an expert abortionist if she were to ever need his services in that regard.

"Now open wide," she finally heard him say. "Happy birthday!"

The strange brew assaulted her taste buds and made her gag as she tried to swallow her birthday present. She vomited the moment Krampus pulled the sloppy spoon from her manhandled mouth. The broken egg shells and other debris scraped raw her palate as she projectile puked a putrid pile toward the chef. He jumped back to dodge the regurgitation and laughed, "Well, I guess my concoction is an acquired taste."

Mrs. Claus spun her convulsing body around on the counter until Krampus was positioned between her legs. "Then eat up," she sputtered.

Alfie could smell the sickening aroma from inside his cupboard and he committed its racy recipe to memory.

CHAPTER 9

Okay, so now it's Christmas Eve...

Santa was again sitting behind his desk in the office when he acknowledged a knock on the door, but this time the knocker was Alfie.

"Enn-ter!" Santa answered dramatically in his best stage voice.

Alfie sheepishly entered the office, carrying his clipboard, and shut the door.

"I've completed the pre-trip preparation review and all seems in order for tonight, Santa," announced Alfie. "Your so-called list has been checked twice. The designated presents are wrapped and loaded on the sleigh, except for some last minute requests that are still being worked by the toymakers. The reindeer have been fed, beaten and their tails embedded."

"Fine," grunted Santa. "If there's nothing else, you can leave... I'm a busy man. It's Christmas Eve, you know."

Santa looked back down at some paperwork on the desk, but Alfie was hesitant about leaving.

When he didn't hear the shuffle of little elf feet, Santa glanced back up and noticed Alfie still standing in front of his desk.

"I said, if there's nothing else, then ski-daddle!" he reiterated to the idiot.

Alfie stuttered, "W-well, Santa, actually there is something else, though I'm, ahh, hesitant to..."

"Out with it, elf!" Santa yelled.

"Okay, okay," whined Alfie. "Do you remember back at the old shop when I expressed concern over the trustworthiness of your business associate Mister Krampus?"

Santa squinted at Alfie and stretched out a wary acknowledgement, "Yyyyyyessssss?"

"And you said not to bother you with my suspicions unless I had proof?"

"Yyyyyyessssss?"

"Well, I believe I've got proof."

"Proof of what, Alfie?"

"Proof that Mister Krampus has been having an affair with... with... with Missus Claus."

Santa laughed and replied, "Are you joking, Alfie? I sincerely doubt Missus Claus would let that demon dick bone her."

Alfie timidly approached his employer with the clipboard and held it out, in trembling hands, for Santa to view.

"Here are my n-notes of what I've witnessed..."

Alfie began flipping through page after page of stickman figure type drawings, which vaguely illustrated some kind of undefined activity between the stick figures. Santa developed a perplexed look on his face, like he couldn't comprehend why he was being shown a bunch of ignorant and indistinguishable child-like drawings.

When the page-flipping ceased, Santa patiently inquired, "Alfie, what the fuck are you trying to show me?"

"Well, these are my notes of the liaisons I've witnessed between Mister Krampus and Missus Claus."

"So, you expect me to believe they let you watch them fuck and take notes?" Santa inquired a little less patiently.

"No, no, no," Alfie answered. "I hid and watched. They had no idea I was around."

Santa sighed and said, "Listen, Alfie. You may be a good Elf on the Shelf kind of spy, but you suck big time at drawing. I have no idea what these pictures are supposed to be. At first, I thought you wanted me to play Hangman or something."

"Oh..."

"But I have an idea," Santa continued. "Why don't you just tell me what you saw?"

Alfie glanced around the small cluttered office like he was looking for something or somewhere to stand. "Oh-kay, I'll try..."

Alfie put down his clipboard on Santa's desk and moved a couple chairs to make a wider space on the floor. Alfie then leaped into the open space like a spotlight had suddenly been lighted at the spot.

"Okay, okay, okay, so I sneak down the dungeon steps [mime creeping movements], and low and behold, [surprised look] there's Missus Claus tied face-first to this like large wooden cross [spread his arms and legs like he's crucified], she's wiggling around like she's trying to break free [grind movements], but like she's not really seriously trying to break free, because her wrists are tied to the top part and her ankles are tied to the bottom part, well, okay, it's more like a big wooden X than a cross, so her legs are spread, but she still has her underpants on like white lacey briefs and a top, but Krampus is standing right behind her with a whip and he starts slashing at her back and her ass [violently swinging arm], and she starts screaming like she's panicking, trying to get her wrists free, but she can't, of course, and Krampus just keeps whipping away [more arm swings] and her underwear starts ripping and falling apart and her skin starts getting these red slash marks that are turning black and blue, but Krampus doesn't let up and Missus Claus just keeps squalling, although soon it just sounds like crying and then sort of like a low whimpering, then Krampus suddenly stops and checks on her, I guess to see if she's fainted or something, but I guess she's awake 'cause I hear her whisper [in a female voice], 'More - I need more, please whip me like the whore that I am,' and Krampus is like [heavy male voice] 'Say no more, I'm happy to oblige,' and would you believe, he starts whipping her again, but not for too long, 'cause I think she really does faint after a while, which is when Krampus drops his whip and his pants and jumps in behind Missus Claus, whose body is hanging limply from the cross or X or whatever you call it, he directs his giant cock straight up Missus Claus's asshole [more grinding], I swear, no lube or nuthin' at all, and I kind of hear her groan like involuntarily, which gets louder and louder and louder as Krampus keeps pounding and pounding and pounding away at that tight ass, until Krampus is the one groaning as he shoots his load right up her poop chute, but he doesn't stop there, oh no, he's still not satisfied with his disgusting conquest, 'cause he cuts her down from the cross and starts slapping her face [slapping the air] while she's on the floor, until she sort of regains like semi-consciousness, at least enough for Krampus to force her to lick his filthy cock clean, and she laps it up like she's having a dream about visiting an ice cream store or something [licking invisible cone]... Then there's another time where both of them are in Krampus's room, and I'm like outside looking through the keyhole, and I see Krampus teasing Missus Claus with his long nasty beet red tongue [wagging tongue], which he's sticking in her mouth, in her ears, in her nose, in her cunt, in her ass, in her arm pits, licking everything from her eye balls to her taint, leaving no crevice untouched, while Missus Claus is squirming and panting, begging for more licks and pokes, as his tongue literally wraps around a tit while the tip tweaks her nipples like a baby calf suckling the mama milk cow, then I see them collapse on the floor in a heap and Krampus gets on top of her and they kiss like only the French can kiss, but he doesn't stop there, 'cause I could see his tongue just twirl around hers and start tugging it, like he's trying to tear her mouth organ right out of her flushed face, while at the same time, he's driving his hard cock into her wet fuckhole, her body is like convulsing, but you could tell she's loving every second of it, until finally she comes, but still can't say anything 'cause Krampus has her tongue tied up with hers, so she can only spit and drool in response to the huge orgasm she's having, which causes Krampus to come while Missus Claus is sputtering 'Owbah, yoush weally hwet meh' and that's a direct quote... Then there was the time they were in the kitchen together and Missus Claus was on the counter and Krampus was pumping sugar and spice all into her girl parts like she was some kinda of decadent cake or fancy pastry or something, and she's like, 'Eat me,' and he's like, 'You know what they call this recipe where I come from?' She says, 'No, what do they call this type of recipe where you come from?' Well, he starts licking and slurping the sweaty sweets from her snatch, until he looks up and answers, 'The Aristocrats!'

Santa jumped up and shouted, "Shut up! Shut up, damn you! I get the point! You saw them fucking! Christ, I'll deal with this shit later!"

CHAPTER 10

Somewhere in a typical Victorian home, a mouse laid dead. Stockings were hung. Children were snug. You get it...

In the master bedroom, the lady of the house was sound asleep and wearing one of those babushka-kerchief thingies on her head, like she was one of those Muslim types. Hubby was also wearing head-cover, specifically a night cap, probably to keep his delicate ears from freezing in the drafty abode. Although his ears were covered, the man was still able to hear the festive sound of sleigh bells outside in the yard and you can bet your ass he jumped out of bed to see what was the matter.

He tore open the shutters and lifted up the window, only to be astonished at the sight of Santa Claus standing behind a humungous sleigh --- a sleigh with a bunch of mostly naked women attached to it. And when Santa began cutting into the back of one of the women with his bullwhip, causing the shrieking victim's blood to spray across the snow, the curious man at the window passed out from the sheer shock of it all.

Once the husband began to "come to," he thought there might be an intruder in the bedroom.

And then, in a twinkling, the husband heard in the room, the slurping and gnashing of a man in costume... As the husband shook his head and continued to "come around," down on his wife St. Nicholas came with a bound... The neck of the wife, Santa held tight in his teeth, and his mouth encircled her throat like a wreath... Santa had a scary face and a big round stomach, which shook when he fed, like some beast in a panic... Santa was vile and vicious, a right evil old elf, and the husband gasped as he watched Santa, in spite of himself... A glare from Santa's eye and a twist of the head, soon led the husband to know he soon could be dead... Santa whispered some words, as he continued his work... Then Santa fed more from the wife, until he turned toward the jerk... Pointing his finger at the husband's sniveling nose, Santa gave a quick nod and out the door he did close.

The man sat frozen in fear until he heard Santa's voice bellow from outside: "Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"

***

Later that night in another home, a pair of preteen fraternal twins were sort of sleeping in their candlelit bedroom. The sister broke the silence in the room by softly whispering to her brother, "Brother, are you awake?"

The brother's bed was next to the sister's bed, but the brother did not respond to the soft whisper.

"Brother, are you awake?" she asked in a not-so-soft whisper.

"W-what?" mumbled the brother.

"Are you awake?"

"I am now," he confirmed. "I was just dreaming of dancing sugar plums."

"Well, dear brother, I fear that I cannot sleep for it is Christmas Eve."

"Which is all the more reason for you to try to sleep," he responded. "Because Santa may not visit if we are awake."

"Poppycock," she disagreed. "We've been good all year, so I doubt Santa would skip our house just because I have a bout of sleeplessness."

"Good night, sister."

After a brief pause, she added, "Brother, I have an idea."

The brother tried to ignore her, but she reiterated, "I say, brother, I've got an idea."

"What, sister?" he resigned. "What idea do you feel the need to tell me about in the middle of this solemn night?"

"I say we sneak down to the drawing room and we hide ourselves somewhere."

"Why ever would we want to do that?"

"So we can see Santa arrive, of course, you numb skull."

"Calling names will not help me agree with your silly idea."

The sister then rolled out of her bed and sat on the corner of her brother's bed. "Oh, I'm so sorry, brother dear," she begged. "Please come downstairs with me. I promise we won't get caught."

The brother sat up in bed. "How can you promise that?" he asked.

The sister grabbed her brother's arm and replied, "Because I just know we won't be caught, that's how."

"Okay, okay," the brother agreed. "But if I don't get a new spinning top for Christmas, I shall be quite displeased with you."

The twins tip-toed out of the bedroom and crept down the stairs to the drawing room. Moonlight reflecting off the snow outside made visible a loveseat-styled settee against one wall and a fireplace against another wall. Of course, two matching stockings were hung by the chimney.

"Come," she whispered, holding her brother's hand. "Let us hide behind the settee."

As soon as they were hidden behind the furniture, sleigh bells were heard outside.

"Oh joy, sleigh bells, brother. Do you hear them? Santa must be outside."

"Hush girl, or someone will hear us," he cautioned.

A tense silence then covered the residence, until a loud squeaking noise of a door handle was heard in the adjoining room.

The sister sighed, "I think Santa is trying to get in through the front door."

The brother whispered back, "Is it locked? Do you think Santa is unable to obtain entry?"

"Let us approach the hallway and ascertain whether or not the door is locked," she suggested.

The two tip-toed through the entryway of the drawing room and peered down the darkened hall toward the front door. The knob was twisting violently and the entire door was shaking on its hinges.

"Look brother," she observed. "The door indeed appears to be locked."

"So that means Santa cannot enter?" he asked.

Suddenly the twisting of the knob ceased and a loud pounding sound erupted, like someone was attempting to kick in the door.

"That doesn't sound good," the girl cried. "I'm scared."

"I think we need to go back to our hiding place," he said.

The children began walking backward, backing into the drawing room and keeping their eyes focused on the frightening hallway. Thus, they didn't see the pair of heavy boots dangling down from the chimney. Santa and his bullwhip burst from the fireplace just as the kids began to turn around.

"What are you brats doing up at this hour?!" Santa demanded, cracking the whip toward them.

The brats screamed and ran into the hallway.

"Get back here, right now, you two!" he yelled before starting his boot pursuit.

When Santa reached the hall, the children were no longer in sight, but that didn't stop him from looking into every room along the way, until he came upon the bathroom. Inside the bathroom was a bathtub with a curtain surrounding it. Santa rolled his eyes at the conspicuousness of the hiding place.

As Santa approached the curtained tub, he exclaimed, "Ah ha! I know where you are, so you'd better come out!"

The terror-stricken twins erupted from the curtain call like eager understudies seeking a standing ovation. Santa nary had time to react. He missed his grip on the girl's shoulder, but managed to grab hold of the boy's neck with his left hand. Santa then used his right hand to unfurl his bullwhip toward the girl, successfully getting the leather to wrap around the child's slim torso.

As the captured girl squirmed to remove herself from the whip, Santa asked the boy, "Are you the good little boy who wanted the top?"

"Yes!" he cried.

"Then check this out!" Santa laughed as he violently jerked back on the whip, causing the girl to spin around like a berserk ballerina.

Eventually the dizzy damsel collapsed on the bathroom floor in a ball of confusion, causing Santa to laugh all the harder.

He then looked down at the bewildered boy and snarled, "Unless you want to see your sister really get whipped, you'd better tell me where your mother is!"

"M-my m-mother, why?"

Santa tossed the boy against the wall and demanded, "Dammit, boy, where is your mother's bedroom?!"

As Santa approached the cowering carcass, the boy blurted out, "She's upstairs, the second door on the left... P-please don't hurt her."

"I'm Santa Claus and I'll do as I please!"

Santa exited the bathroom, leaving the crying children behind, and headed for the drawing room and the stairway to horror. When he reached the master bedroom, he observed the boudoir to be aberrantly bare. Thus he rolled his eyes again at the conspicuousness of it all.

He stomped over to the large bed, leaned down, and tossed the heavy furniture into the air. The horrified housewife was thusly revealed underneath and was promptly pounced upon by Santa. After a few moments of feeding, he whispered something into her obedient ear.

A gasp emanated from behind him, causing Santa to turn his blood-encrusted face toward the children trembling in the entryway.

"Mama!" shrieked the sister.

"Where's papa? What did you do with papa?" boldly asked the boy.

Santa jumped to his feet and yelled, "I thought I told you two to get to bed?!"

When Santa left the property on his sleigh, papa was still banging on the front door trying to get back into the house.

***

Even later that night in yet another home, two single-sized beds occupied the master bedroom. One bed contained a snoring father, oblivious to the world around him, and the other contained a praying mother, wary of the world surrounding her.

The mother prayed as she lay(ed), "And dear God, please keep our family safe from the evil that permeates this world. In Jesus's name, I pray. Amen."

The door to the room creaked open, but nothing was visible in the hall.

The mother climbed out of bed and walked cautiously to the open door. Before closing it, she looked into the hall to make sure that all was quiet.

She mumbled to herself, "That is strange, for I am certain I sufficiently secured that door in the closed position."

Once she was back in her bed, she prayed, "Dear God, strange things happen frequently in this house and no explanation can be discerned. If evil lurks in our holy home, please protect us from whatever haunts these premises. In Jesus's name, I pray. Amen."

The door to the room creaked open again.

"Oh my," she called out. "Is someone there? Is that you children, still awake on this Christmas Eve?"

Her husband snored in response.

The wife climbed back out of bed, murmuring, "That faulty door brings such a draft to this room, I must have my husband fix it tomorrow. Perhaps with that new tool kit I acquired for him as a present."

The woman shut the door again, this time wiggling the knob to ensure that the latch bolt was latched into the bolt hole. But she soon heard the door open again from behind as she returned to her bed. She immediately dropped to her knees in front of the bed and clasped her hands atop the blanket. She soon felt someone's breath breathing down the back of her nape.

Low and menacing, Santa spoke, "I heard your prayers, mother."

She gasped when she heard the wicked words. Praying louder, she begged, "Dear God, please, please, please protect me from..."

Santa grabbed her hair and pulled the woman to her feet. "Don't you know who I am?" he asked.

"N-no," she cried, holding her eyes tightly shut. "Are you here to hurt me?"

"Only if you scream."

She opened her eyes to gaze upon the strange man. "Who are you?"

"Are you dense, woman?" he asked. "Look at my stupid red costume... This is Christmas Eve..."

"Are you Saint Nicholas?"

He let go of her hair. "Bingo. We have a winner."

"But why are you in my bedroom?"

"Because I need your help downstairs."

"Must I? Can you not just leave me be?"

"Listen, do you want your children to get their gifts or not?"

"Well, I suppose, but cannot my husband assist you downstairs?"

Her husband snored at the appropriate time.

"Just be a good wife and let the man rest," Santa advised.

"All right I guess..."

The woman followed Santa down the stairs to the great room, as opposed to the drawing room of the previous narrative. Santa's bag of gifts was on the floor in the center of the room, while the walls were covered with numerous crosses and crucifixes of various sizes.

"What can I assist you with?" she asked at the bottom of the steps. "Were you perhaps expecting cookies and milk? For I fear we forgot to set them out this year."

Santa thoughtfully answered, "Well, that would've been nice, but that's not why I brought you down here."

"Oh," she responded. "Then what do you need?"

Santa pointed to the walls and explained, "I can't set out any presents in this room until you take down every single cross from these walls. Just the sight of them makes me queasy."

The woman's eyes widened in wonderment. "You want me to remove my Savior's crosses from the room? Are you not aware of the true reason we celebrate Christmas?"

"Bitch, I don't give a shit why you celebrate Christmas, but if you want me to leave presents for your brats, you best get your butt moving on the revamp."

"But..."

"And if you continue to piss me off, I'll rip your fucking throat out!"

The worried woman hurriedly began collecting the religious trinkets, mumbling something about walking through the valley of the shadow of death. She didn't stop until the walls were bare and her arms were full. "Where should I put them?" she asked.

"You, my lady, may shove them up your ass as far as I'm concerned! Just get the damned things out of this room!"

"Yes, sir," she obeyed, taking her collection to the hallway and placing them on the floor.

"Now come back here and get on your knees in front of me," he commanded.

The woman begrudgingly obliged.

He instructed, "Start praying to me, like you were doing upstairs."

She began crying and asked, "Pray to you?"

Santa reached down and grabbed her hands, forcing them together.

"Yes, heathen," he impatiently answered. "Entwine your fingers and pray to me as your Lord and Savior."

"But you're not my..."

"Did the God you were praying to protect you from me?"

"What?"

"I know you're not deaf," he sternly said. "I asked you whether this Entity you've been praying to was able to protect you tonight from the likes of me."

"Perhaps my faith just isn't strong enough when..."

"Bullshit," he exclaimed, flashing his fangs. "If you want me to protect you from a certain death tonight, then you'd better start prayin' to me and you sure as hell better mean it!"

The mortified mother prayed, "Dear Santa, I pray for your protection. I do not want to die tonight..."

Santa smiled, kneeled down beside her, and warmly said, "Very good, my dear. Now pull down the collar on your nightgown and show me your neck. It's time for your baptism."

He bit into her jugular and fed, finishing with a whispered blessing.

***

Similar scenarios played out in domiciles across Santa's route on that hallowed night, each visit ending with Santa whispering sweet somethings into the docile ears of the domestic homemakers.

CHAPTER 11

As dawn began to break on another glorious Christmas morn, everyone inside the Christmasland castle were sound asleep, having been driven to exhaustion in their preparations for Christmas Eve. Then the sounds of screams from multiple mouths awakened the cast and crew.

A child laborer was the first to hear the screams and she immediately woke up Alfie. "What is that horrible sound, sir? Who is screaming? It sounds like lots of people outside are in trouble. Please wake up, sir!"

Alfie sat up and listened to the frightening sounds. "What the hell is that?" he mumbled, shaking his head to fully wake up.

Alfie rolled out of his cot in his elfy PJs as the rest of the workers began crying out in fear. "Hush now!" he instructed. "I'm going to investigate! You all stay put and try to keep calm, for God's sake!"

The screams emanating from outside the castle continued as Alfie removed a torch from the wall and lit it in the fireplace. He then hurried out of the workshop and scampered down the hallway, just as the other adult residents were emerging from their bedrooms with torches of their own.

Mrs. Claus asked, "Does anyone know where that screaming is coming from?"

"It sounds like it's coming from outside the castle," answered Rudolpho.

"Follow me!" ordered Krampus.

The screams ceased as the group exited the castle and headed toward the stables.

Looking ahead, Mrs. Claus gasped, "Oh my god."

"Holy fucking shit!" added Rudolpho.

Just ahead of the stunned group was a large bloody pile of naked female bodies, some of them still morbidly twitching in death throes. The fractured female faces, which could barely be discerned through the blood and gore, displayed the full terror and torment that they had just mercilessly endured. The bare arms and legs were twisted and tangled like the limbs of a fallen tree. All their throats were slit open and still oozing their cruory contents.

Backlit by the dawn, Santa suddenly appeared triumphantly at the top of the heap. Like a conqueror standing victorious above a vanquished battlefield, he stood stoically with his fists lodged firmly into his sides and his elbows jutting out. His eyes appeared red as lasers as he bared his fangs and looked directly at Krampus and Mrs. Claus.

Santa's booming voice caused snow to avalanche down from the roofs of the stables and the castle: "You two are fornicators!"

Alfie, who was cowering behind Rudolpho, retreated back inside the castle, unwilling to witness the carnage any further.

Santa descended from the dune of the deceased and stomped toward Mrs. Claus and Krampus. Mrs. Claus collapsed to her hands and knees in the snow and began bawling hysterically.

"Santa, Santa, Santa," Krampus droned. "If you had read the fine print of our contract, you would've clearly understood that..."

"Shut the fuck up, Krampus!" spewed Santa. "I don't give a shit what the contract says, our business relationship is over!"

As Santa looked down in disgust at his sniveling spouse, Krampus suggested, "Let's not be hasty, Santa, we can always get new reindeer. Isn't that right, Rudolpho?"

Still in a state of shock at the sickening scene unfolding before him, Rudolpho mumbled, "What-Whatever Santa wants..."

"There ya go, Saint Nick," urged Krampus. "You heard the man. Whatever Santa wants, Santa will get. So let's you and I work this thing out like responsible business partners."

Santa turned to Krampus and replied, "There's nothing to work out! I'm hereby retired from this bullshit!"

"But you can't retire..."

"The hell I can't!" he shouted. "When I had the children's mothers under my spell tonight, I commanded them to provide gifts for their brats on Christmas from this point forward. Let the parents take care of their own damn kids!"

Krampus countered, "But how in the hell am I gonna know where the bad kids are if you don't keep track..."

"Krampus, are you not paying attention?! We are through, capiche? We're done! Caput! Take your Succubus One and Succubus Two and Suck-Up Rudolpho, and leave Christmasland, ASAP!"

"Whatever tubby," Krampus angrily retorted. "But I'll have you know, I've been pursuing other business prospects outside of here and I planned on leaving anyway."

"Good for you, motherfucker! Now get out of my sight and let me deal with my cheating wife!"

***

Once Alfie was back inside the castle, he raced to the workshop, where he found the children still in their cots, with blankets covering their heads. They were all trembling and whining, filled with dread over whatever terrible event had been occurring at the castle.

"Listen up!" Alfie announced. "Your work here is done and you need to leave Christmasland now! You're all in very grave danger! Santa has gone berserk and no one is safe! Follow me and I'll show you where the coats and wooden snowshoes are that I made y'all for Christmas... Don't ask me where you can go. You just have to go. Now!"

***

Back outside, Santa kicked Mrs. Claus over onto her back and straddled her shaking frame.

"How could you do this to me with that demonic piece of shit?!" he demanded.

"Please forgive me, Santa!"

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't tear you apart, limb from limb!"

"Please, honey, it was all Krampus! He put me in a trance and I was forced to do whatever he commanded... Just like you did with those mothers this evening. I swear I was completely powerless against his influence when you were not nearby! But as soon as you confronted Krampus tonight, his possession over me was defeated and I instantly realized how I must have hurt you! That's why I fell to the ground in despair! The realization and the guilt overwhelmed me once the spell was broken! Please forgive me, Santa, I beg of you. Only you can keep me safe from the demonic powers that want to hurt us both! Now that evil Krampus is banished from our home, we can go back to how it used to be!"

"I'm still waiting to hear the GOOD reasons for me not to destroy you!"

Mrs. Claus scooted herself out from under Santa and sat up on her knees in front of him. She looked up toward Santa and managed to grin, as she concluded, "Because I bake the best damned cookies and give the best damned head on the planet. That's why!"

Santa returned the grin, adding, "Well, my dick isn't going to suck itself."

Mrs. Claus reached up and unfastened Santa's belt. "This is the only Christmas present I want to unwrap!"

She undid his fly and grabbed his erect cock, which had gotten rock hard when he was slaughtering the reindeer girls. Krampus had trained her mouth well, so she had no reservations about accepting the prickly present past her lying lips. She sucked like her life depended upon it, which it did. Her tongue licked like its sole purpose was to give pleasure, which it now was. Her throat opened freely to accept his thrusts, and her stomach uninhibitedly accepted his seed.

When she finished licking his dick clean, she grabbed him around the hips and promised, "My body will always be available for you to use... or abuse."

"Yes," he agreed. "We may need to drop by the Counseling Room later."

"As you desire, Master."

CHAPTER 12

With Rudolpho, Krampus and the Succubi gone from the castle, Alfie was able to work unencumbered in the workshop. A steady beam of noontime daylight from an unblocked window enabled him to confidently construct a wooden cross, which could be held in one hand, and to sharpen two thick wooden stakes. Although it was midday and Christmas was over, he sang the familiar refrains of his favorite hymn, "Silent Night."

When he was finished, he rose from the workbench and gathered his new tools, along with a wooden mallet. He walked silently, but boldly, to the bedroom of Santa and Mrs. Claus. He soon realized that he had to set his tools down in order to open the door.

Alfie opened the bedroom door slowly, and as quietly as possible, but then had trouble picking up the scattered tools from around his feet. His tiny hands fumbled with the tools and some of them dropped to the floor, causing a racket. He cursed himself under his breath.

He tried again to pick up the cross, stakes and mallet, but clumsily dropped them again.

After several attempts, he managed to grab all the tools and to approach the sleeping caskets of Santa and Mrs. Claus. The rustic wooden caskets had strange markings on the sides, such as "SEMI-FRAGILE" and "THIS SIDE UP," because they had been made from the box that the kids came in. The caskets were also mounted on pedestals, which didn't impede Santa or Mrs. Claus from accessing the lids, but made them out of reach for a munchkin like Alfie.

Alfie looked around the room until he set his eyes on a chair near the wall. He carefully placed the tools on the ground and retrieved the chair, positioning it in front of one of the caskets. Of course, when he went to pick up his tools, they slipped from his sweaty hands and clamored at his feet. He cursed himself again, but more quietly this time. After several attempts, Alfie managed to grab hold of everything and climb onto the seat of the chair.

With his hands full, Alfie realized he had no way to open the coffin lid. He tried moving all the tools to his left hand and under his left arm, allowing his right hand and arm to be unencumbered. But when he tried to lift the lid with his right hand, he lost his balance and tumbled off the chair. From his crumpled position on the floor, Alfie looked up and saw a shadowy figure in the doorway.

The figure crept forward and Alfie recognized 202499, who had been abandoned and forgotten in the castle infirmary. The boy mumbled something, but it was incoherent because his mouth was still swollen and he had no teeth. 202499 helped Alfie get back on his feet.

Alfie whispered, "Can you pick up the tools while I climb back onto the chair?"

202499 mumbled in the affirmative, nodding to ensure his meaning was communicated.

Once Alfie was back on the chair and 202499 was holding all the needed instruments, Alfie tried with both hands to lift the lid off the first casket. But he still couldn't get the heavy lid to budge.

Showing his frustration, Alfie testily whispered down, "Hand me the mallet and one of the stakes."

202499 handed Alfie the mallet, and then began inspecting the two stakes.

Alfie, in a more impatient whisper, instructed, "Either one is fine, just give me a stake."

202499 gave Alfie one of the stakes and then offered the little man the cross too.

"Did I ask for the cross?" Alfie asked in a louder tone.

202499 mumbled in the negative, and shook his head to ensure his meaning was communicated.

"Then I must not need the cross yet," Alfie tensely explained.

202499 attempted to give Alfie a "thumbs up" signal, but ended up dropping the cross and the second stake. Alfie rolled his eyes while 202499 leaned down to pick up the items.

Alfie put the tip of his stake against the seam of the coffin lid and tapped it lightly with the mallet. Alfie froze in fear when a rumbling was heard inside the casket.

He waited a few moments and then tapped the stake again, this time with a little more force. Again the tapping caused a disturbance inside the box.

Alfie waited a bit longer, and then hauled off and smacked the stake hard with the mallet.

This time the wooden tomb exploded apart, sending into the air wooden planks, Alfie, his chair, his tools and his helper. Santa burst from the broken wood and landed on his feet on the floor, just as the casket of Mrs. Claus busted apart in the same manner.

The unconscious bodies of Alfie and 202499 were then grabbed by the merry makers and tossed around like rag dolls, their limp figures slamming violently against the walls and floor of the bedroom. Santa then bent over the body of Alfie, while Mrs. Claus leaned over 202499. When the vampires prepared to feed upon their prey, they suddenly halted and gazed upon each other with queer gaunt expressions on their hideous faces. They both tried again to feed, but their mouths only produced sloppy sucking and slurping sounds against the nubile necks of the victims.

Santa leaned back on his haunches and placed his fingers into his own yap and began desperately feeling around. Mrs. Claus performed the same mouth inspection and immediately began sobbing.

Santa raised his fists in the air and screamed toward the ceiling, "Krampus! What have you done?! Just wait 'til I find you!"

EPILOGUE

Somewhere in an Amazon kind of jungle or foresty place, Krampus turned to Rudolpho and said, "My ears are burning. And when I say that, I mean that my ears are burning more than a demon's ears would usually burn."

Two muscular male Incubi, holding machetes and wearing loin cloths like they were future Chippendale dancers, glanced at each other in confusion and shrugged their bare manly shoulders.

"Rudolpho," Krampus continued. "Which way do we go now?"

Rudolpho looked down at a compass and pointed with his free hand. "According to my calculations, we need to cut right through this foliage."

"You heard him boys!" commanded Krampus.

The Incubi began cutting a path through the thick overgrowth of vines and verdure. Krampus and Rudolpho followed, sporting the latest wide-brimmed explorer's hats.

Eventually, the party reached a vine-covered cottage, where Krampus tapped on the door with his riding crop. A glowingly gorgeous young redhead, wearing nothing but a green grass skirt and some strategically-placed fronds across her blossoming bosom, opened the cottage door. She seductively grinned at the tall sweaty Incubi, until Krampus cleared his throat and she looked down at the little devil.

Krampus asked, "I assume you are the Tooth Fairy?"

The Tooth Fairy smiled at Krampus and nodded.

"I've come with a business proposition for you," Krampus announced. "But first I'd like to present you with a little gift."

Krampus held out a jewelry box and opened it for her to see the contents. A splendidly sparkling, startlingly stunning, set of wondrous wings spontaneously sprouted from the shoulders of the titillated Tooth Fairy as soon as she set her glowing green eyes upon the two perfect pairs of bloody vampire fangs.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

After an unillustrious print journalism career in southwestern Pennsylvania, Rich Bottles Jr. moved to West Virginia at the age of 32 to pursue a career in technical writing.

He spends his free time visiting and hiking at the many state parks in the Mountain State, which is also where he develops the concepts for his novels. He has produced a trilogy of WV-themed “humorrorotica” books, the most recent of which is The Manacled, set in the vicinity of the West Virginia Penitentiary. Other books in the series include Lumberjacked and Hellhole West Virginia.

Rich was a contributing editor on The Big Book of Bizarro, Westward Hoes and Rise of the Dead anthologies by Burning Bulb Publishing. He also helped create The Tailsman comic book with Gary Lee Vincent.

He has also written stories for the StrangeHouse Books anthologies Strange Sex, Zombie! Zombie! Brain Bang!, Strange Versus Lovecraft, A Very StrangeHouse Christmas and many others.

Table of Contents

- The Vampire Who Saves Christmas
- CHAPTER 1
- CHAPTER 2
- CHAPTER 3
- CHAPTER 4
- CHAPTER 5
- CHAPTER 6
- CHAPTER 7
- CHAPTER 8
- CHAPTER 9
- CHAPTER 10
- CHAPTER 11
- CHAPTER 12
- EPILOGUE
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR