My Girlfriend is Santa Claus & Together We Must Stop the Christmas Apocalypse Based on a True Story

When last we left Peter he was being assaulted by five hundred boy hungry elves in the bath. And while it may be a coomer’s dream come true, for Peter the reality of the situation was far more dire. It was more like a feeding frenzy of long eared piranhas, grasping him at every available appendage. Desperately Peter thrashed through the water to Yuzuka, muscular blushing Valkyrie elf, in hopes of salvation.

“Hey, thanks for leaving me to the lion’s den over there,” Peter said.

“Peter, I am very naked right now,” Yuzuka said.

“Yeah! Me too! And I’m hard as a fudging diamond! But there’s not much I can do about it, is there?”

“And what do you want me to do about it?!”

“You’re a Master Elf. You can keep them off of me!”

The elven girls took hold of Peter’s ankles and dragged him away. He clutched onto the edge of the bath, lost his grip, and took hold of Yuzuka’s knee. It was a sexy game of tug-of-war and Peter was the rope. The harder the elven girls pulled the straighter Yuzuka’s leg unfolded, revealing her battle scarred body.

“Let go of me!” Yuzuka blushed madly.

“Let go of me!” Peter shouted.

Yuzuka slipped Peter’s hands from her leg, and he fell face first into the scalding water. He emerged, spitting out bath salts and shouting, “This isn’t very romantic!” To which the girls laughed. How the tables had turned! What a perverted fantasy Peter envisioned when he fist laid eyes upon the baths— what a heaven on Earth! But now it was a lush and steamy shampoo-filled hell! The snuskhummer had become the snuskhummered! It was impossible to enjoy the show when he himself was the main attraction of their wanton desires!

Up above, in the mouse-sized peep hole to the baths, Squee looked down at the girl-on-boy carnage. The waters thrashed as the elven girls glomed onto him like a frenzy of piranas. Squee death-gripped the wall. Jealousy boiled in her tiny mouse heart.

Chaos and insanity galore! Peter flopped and flailed wildly, but they found his helpless splashing hilarious. He only saw hands and boobs, carnivorous smiles and eyes wide with glee. The groping! The massaging! The poking! The caressing! It was an unstoppable tangle of flesh!

“Yukina! Help!”

Yukina laughed and skipped through the waters to Peter’s aid.

[NovelFire NovelFire NovelFire NovelFire Whipstopher Pippinsticks NovelFire NovelFire NovelFire NovelFire]

And then, all at once, the girls departed, leaving Peter alone in the center of the great pool. He sat up, shocked, and searched around. His attackers were now docile and minding their own business— twirling their hair and innocently whistling to themselves. There at the exit of the water slide was Santa, her waifish self tightly wrapped in a towel, black hair pinned up in a claw clip.

“Peter, where’s your towel?” Santa asked.

“You wear a towel in the bath?” he asked.

“You don’t?”

“They don’t.” Peter gestured to the others.

Santa and Peter sat together in their own corner in perfect silence. Traumatized, Peter was unnaturally still. His untrusting eyes went from elf to elf. They seemed so uninterested in him now. But it was all an act. If Santa left him they would pounce again. He knew their true lustful nature. Santa stretched her slender, pale leg up out of the water and watched the water trickle off. Peter watched too. It was right in front of him, and then he couldn’t help but get the feeling that she was showing off her body.

“This is nice,” she said.

“Yeah. I wish we could spend more time together like this.”

“We can.” Santa splashed some water onto her neck. “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy. I want to take you out. There’s still something you need to see. I think it’ll help make things clearer to you.”

“You could just tell me now,” Peter said.

“You have to see it. It wouldn’t be the same if I just told you.”

Peter looked up. There was no ceiling, and he saw stars hiding their fires behind icy clouds.

“Hey, kind of got a weird question for you. Uh… did you ever like… hmmm… make out with me when I was a kid?”

Santa slowly turned her head and looked Peter in the eyes. “What?”

“You know, when I was a kid and… asleep. Did you ever sneak into my room and… passionately kiss me or something?”

Santa was silent for a long time. Peter tried to judge from her expression if it was a guilty silence, or a worrying silence that succeeded an accusation that could land someone in jail and a sexual offender’s registry. He looked for a tremble of the lip, or a glance away, that would hint that her crime of passion had been discovered, but she was stoic and unblinking.

“No,” she said.

“That was a long pause,” Peter said.

“Well, that was an odd question.”

“Because, you know, I wouldn’t be upset or anything if you did… kiss me… when I was a kid. I’d only be upset that I wasn’t awake when you did.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Peter glanced about at the elves all around them. Their pale bodies illuminated chiaroscuro among the lantern light and shadows. He rested his eyes on Santa’s collar bone, that smooth sweep of flesh guiding him down to her cleavage, her breasts shrink-wrapped behind a waterlogged towel. So close yet so far. He looked at her slender neck and the fine black hairs that were loose from her claw clip. Every inch of her was wonderful.

“By the way…” Peter’s voice was low. “There’s a traitor in the workshop.”

“What?”

“There’s a Christian among us. I saw her praying with a rosary.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. It was night. Dark. She tried to kill me. With a wooden mallet. We need to find out who she is. She could be feeding information to the Holy Spirit. Could be setting us up for a trap.”

“How do you spot a Christian?”

“They like crosses, kneeling, talking to themselves… communion.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a little, crappy piece of bread about the size of a silver dollar. Christians have to eat it once a week and say a prayer.”

“What happens if they don’t?”

“They explode.”

“Jingle bells!” Santa’s eyes were wide with astonishment.

“That’s a joke.”

Santa clicked her tongue, put her wet hand on Peter’s face and pushed him away. Her playfulness surprised him.

“I can never tell when you’re joking.”

They laughed and Peter excused himself. He crouched down in the bath so only his head was above water, but Santa and the elves watched him all the same. He felt a little ridiculous. Why was he hiding? The weirdness of being nude among others vanished more quickly than he imagined. The girls had already seen him— the mystery was gone. There was nothing to be embarrassed about now. So he stepped out of the bath, proud and cocksure. Right before he left, he turned back and saw every elven head in the bath whisk away in a guilty ‘I wasn’t looking’ sort of way. Yukina however kept eye contact and waved goodbye to him.

“Put that thing away, Peter! You’ll poke someone’s eye out!”

He left, and no sooner did the door close than a commotion sounded from the changing room upstairs. Hundreds of footsteps drummed and raised voices babbled, and then an avalanche of bodies squeaked and splashed down the water slide. Like a storm drain in a flash flood, a deluge of tastefully nude elves spewed out, climbed over one another and fought, shouting “Where is he?” “Is he still here?” “I brought Julmust!”