Santa Claus Is Missing: A Christmas Harem Gamelit

by Sean Shake

  “Remember, we’ve all got to last till the last gift. If I finish too soon, we’ll be stranded on some kid’s roof. Not, I imagine, the way they want to find out Santa is real.”

  “Eh, you might be surprised about that,” I said, thinking back to when I was ten years old and had seen a neighbor changing in her window.

  Best night of my young life.

  Course, it hadn’t been Christmas Eve.

  We flew through the void, darting in and out of realms to our destinations on Earth, Rue glowing brighter than ever.

  This time I was careful. I didn’t want her to extinguish and end up getting devoured by whatever void beasts were around us. Nor was I too keen on testing out how well the eight new reindeer could use those swords of theirs on the horrors I’d half-glimpsed.

  It was dangerous, sure, but that was the cost of traveling outside of time, going fast enough to go to two-billion households.

  Surprisingly, delivering the gifts wasn’t tedious. Slipping through chimneys and in through cracked windows with my bag of gifts, setting them up under the tree, dumping the milk down the sink and tossing cookies outside for the birds—or putting both into the dog’s bowl if they had one—was rather enjoyable.

  As was the reward I knew I had waiting for me every time I got back to the sleigh: Rue’s spread legs and her eager folds.

  Alexa was probably the most eager and most impatient, as when I was gone she couldn’t risk anything with Rue, couldn’t risk the sleigh taking off without me.

  She wasn’t Santa Claus, but she was Mrs Claus, and she did have some of my magic, and so it wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility that she could pilot the sleigh without me.

  And then it was nearly done.

  I finished placing the last gifts at the last house on our list this year, the last place on Earth where the sun rises on every new morning, the first rays from that sun—which was still a world away—just beginning to brighten the horizon.

  I took one last look, nodded, satisfied, then activated Bone Morphing and popped out of an honest-to-God chimney, landing lightly on the roof, sprightly with the spirit of air.

  I took a deep breath of the not-quite-morning air, then walked over to the sleigh and threw my empty sack into the back before climbing up next to Alexa and an eager Rue.

  This time instead of just pulling myself out, I took off the suit entirely. I stowed it safely on the seat, then turned to Alexa and started kissing her.

  Rue moaned from behind me and I smiled as I slid my hands up Mrs Claus’s dress and pulled it over her head.

  And discovered she wasn’t wearing a bra or panties.

  “Oh,” I said excitedly.

  “You like?” she asked with a lilt.

  “I like,” I said, nodding and sucking her breast into my mouth, the one Ovariea had cut, and which was now completely healed with the help of a little medical machine my elves had made. I’d used it on my bitten arm, butt, and calf as well, and they were all now good as new.

  My tailbone was still sore, but you couldn’t have it all.

  “Hey,” Rue complained, “I’m the one who’s supposed to be getting the loving here. She’s not gonna power up this sleigh and prevent the void monsters from eating us. So get your Christmas cock over here.”

  I did, pushing Alexa next to Rue and sliding my fingers into her, as I slid my key into Rue.

  The reindeer let out a collective groan of disappointment as the sleigh lifted into the air and they were forced to face forward, no longer able to enjoy the show.

  As we rose—the dawning day growing ever lighter with each passing moment—I happened to look back down, and spotted a little boy looking out a window fogged with frost except for the spot which he’d rubbed away, mouth open as he stared up at me.

  I smiled and raised my hand at him. “Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”

  Then we were gone, shooting away like an alien spaceship, piercing through the veil and into the void, and heading back home to the Northern Realm. Another Christmas done.

  A Christmas saved.

  75

  Epilogue

  We were all pretty much orgasmed out by the time we got back—to Erica and Scarlett’s disappointment, as well as a few of the other elves, including the elf who had been the assassin girl. And possibly the one who’d seen her brother’s penis.

  Something about her was both disconcerting and arousing.

  But we were all—or at least Alexa, Rue, and I, the other eight reindeer not having gotten any action—true and welly spent.

  The other reindeer were quite disappointed by this, but I promised them some fun times after I got a good night’s sleep.

  Right now I just wanted to relax and enjoy the fact that, against all odds—a brand-new Santa, demon attacks, the Yule Lads, and extremely expensive charter boats—we had managed to succeed.

  I would never have thought it was possible back when that drunk, cute girl in the short red dress who was now my wife ran into me after I’d gotten off my long shift as a fake Santa.

  But we had done it. We had survived it all. And now Christmas was saved.

  We still had to find Alexa’s father, but that no longer seemed like such a big problem.

  If I could save Christmas, I could surely find one fat old man.

  Although I supposed he wasn’t actually fat or old.

  In any case, we relaxed, drinking eggnog and roasting chestnuts on an open fire.

  As we were cuddling together—something made much easier now that Rue’s antlers had fallen out—in front of a hundred-foot projection screen that was somehow 3D, watching Home Alone, and just as the pizza delivery scene began, something began in our world: an alarm.

  I looked around. “What’s that?” I asked.

  Rue shot up. “That’s the alarm. The intruder alarm.”

  “I thought the North Pole protected us?”

  Rue and Alexa exchanged one of their annoying glances.

  “It does,” Alexa said.

  “It’s supposed to,” Rue agreed.

  Then, just as it happened on-screen, a knock came at the door.

  The sound system was so realistic that we looked at each other, uncertain if that really had been our door, or just the one in the movie.

  Then it came again, followed by a doorbell ringing.

  I was once again not dressed, though at least this time I was wearing a robe, but my hand still went to my thigh for the North Pole.

  It of course wasn’t there. It was protecting the realm.

  From intruders.

  Like the one who was at our door now.

  I prepared myself, readying the spirit of fire, ice, and air—and joy, just in case it was a demon—and went to the door, telling everyone else to stay back.

  Everyone in the realm was here, all the elves, all the reindeer, so it had to be an intruder, but I couldn’t think of—

  I stopped as I put my eye to the peephole, and caught a flash of pink.

  I pulled open the door in a daze, not even thinking about the fact that it could be a trap, that it could be someone trying to kill me, or kidnap me like they had done to the last Santa Claus.

  The pink-haired girl spun around, now wearing heart pasties and a pair of shorts with rolled-over felt for a waistband.

  She was wearing sunglasses, despite the fact that it was nighttime in the Northern Realm.

  She smiled and took these off, her pink eyes focusing on me as she smiled. “I knew you were something different. Although I have to say, Santa Claus was not what I had expected. Werewolf, vampire, all the other common stuff, sure. But Santa Claus?” She shook her head. “You really surprised me there.”

  “It’s… you.”

  She held out her hands, her breasts jiggling once. “It’s me.”

  “Who are you?”

  She put up her finger. “That’s not the important question.”

  I heard and felt the others coming around behind me in front of the door
, peeking out, trying to get a glimpse of who this could be, apparently deciding it wasn’t dangerous.

  “How’d you get through the—”

  “Your defenses? You see, those only protect against spirits and demons and other things that might mean you harm. I’m none of those. You could say I sort of have been grandfathered in.”

  I frowned, this reference to grandfather seeming to mean something, but all I could think of was grandfather time. And that was father time, not grandfather time.

  And she was neither grandfather nor father.

  “What—”

  “Yes. What am I doing here. Well, after I discovered you were Santa Claus, I was a bit confused. And so I did some digging. Turns out Santa Claus is missing. Am I right so far?”

  “My father’s missing,” Alexa said. “But technically he’s not Santa Claus anymore, now that I’ve bonded and passed the mantle on.”

  “Ah, princess Claus. Right, well, I can help you with that problem.”

  “Help me?” Alexa asked. “I’m perfectly happy with my husband.”

  “Oh, no, not that problem. Is that a problem? I mean, he saved Christmas, so he seems fine to me.” She flashed me a brief grin. “No, the problem I can help you with is finding the old Santa Claus. You see, I know where he is.”

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  In the meantime, check out one of my other novels, DECIMATED, The Nameless Invasion:

  0b01cbdedc

  1

  Fucking aliens.

  Have you ever had one of those days where just about everything seems to go wrong?

  I always suspected the world would end in my lifetime, and I even thought aliens were one possible cause of that cataclysm.

  I just didn’t expect to be stuck in prison when it happened, with thirty-eight new holes in my body.

  At some point—while I was unconscious due to loss of blood—three alien ships had appeared in the sky above New York City, hovering there like disconnected skyscrapers, stretching into the clouds.

  No one could see what or who was inside them, nor how they managed to keep themselves aloft.

  They made no attempts to communicate with us—or none that we were aware of.

  Just floated there, regal and imposing, a display of monumental power we couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

  Before the human race collectively had a chance to ponder this unexpected occurrence, to debate how it was possible or why the ships were here, our attention was drawn back earthward, as the first alien attacks began.

  Out of surgery, and indifferently informed I would live, I’d been in a prison infirmary for two days now, after being shanked by four men who had attacked my cellmate, Gabriel.

  “Be the sword and shield,” he’d gasped, blood on his lips, as I’d held him in my arms.

  My side, back, and thigh had been on fire from where I’d been stabbed, but Gabriel’s wounds had been much worse.

  “Hold on buddy,” I told him, not knowing what he meant, thinking he was losing it. “It’s gonna be okay.”

  But I didn’t think it was. He’d lost so much blood.

  It pooled all around us, and though some of it was mine, most was his.

  By the time the guards got here, it would already be too late. And there was no one else to help him, as we were all alone in the woodworking shop we’d been cleaning.

  Except for the corpses on the floor.

  Corpses of the ones who’d ambushed Gabriel. The ones who I’d killed trying to save him.

  But not before they’d gotten me.

  There were four of them, and they’d each grabbed a shank that had been hidden in the woodworking shop—ironically, they were made of plastic. I was a good fighter, but there was only so much one man could defend against.

  I should have noticed something was up, should have noticed the tension, the fact that the guard who had been watching us had left at some point.

  But I had been focused on scrubbing away a pair of tits someone had lovingly drawn in wood-stain on the concrete floor, and so I hadn’t noticed.

  I could make excuses—about how no one knew who I was here, so why should I be a target, or how the four men had been talking and laughing with us not long before their attack—but what it came down to, was that I had been careless.

  And now Gabriel had paid for my carelessness.

  “Here,” Gabriel told me, pulling a stone—prismatic and slightly larger than a marble, the stone I’d seen him pray with every night since I’d been assigned as his cellmate when I first arrived almost two years ago—from his pocket, and placing it in my hand. “Take this.” His breathing was shallow and sharp. “Be the sword and shield,” he repeated. “The defender and de…” His words trailed off, then he closed his eyes.

  “Stay with me Gabriel. Come on.” I shook him, but his eyes did not reopen.

  Wrapping two fingers around the stone so I didn’t drop it, I reached up and felt for his pulse.

  There was none.

  For some reason, a snippet of the prayer he said every night came to me: ‘For I am Salvation and Wrath.’

  That’s when I heard the guards coming.

  Finally. After it was too late.

  I only had a second to look at the stone Gabriel had given me, and then, knowing what was coming next, that there was only one camera to cover the whole room, and who knew what our ‘fight’ had looked like to the guards who were rushing toward me, knowing what they’d assume, what they’d do to me, I made sure the cameras couldn’t see me, and swallowed the stone.

  I didn’t know why, but it seemed important that I didn’t lose it.

  Gabriel may have been crazy, may have thought every day was another chance for the apocalypse, but he was my friend.

  The only actual friend I had in here.

  And I knew how much he cared for that stone. He’d wanted me to have it for some reason, so I wasn’t going to lose it.

  2

  I was already on my knees, hands on my head, when the guards arrived, but it hadn’t mattered.

  One of them had kicked me in the chest, knocking me to the floor, then stomped on my neck to pin me down.

  I think the only thing that stopped them from beating me with their nightsticks was seeing how much I had been bleeding.

  Beating an inmate was one thing, having him die on your watch was another. Especially when there was a camera watching.

  I had been taken to the infirmary, stitched up, given minimal painkillers, then left alone.

  On day one, I had been too out of it to notice anything odd about this, but by day two, I realized the doctor had stopped coming to check on me, and that I hadn’t seen any guards in hours.

  And so now here I was, on the evening of the second day, watching aliens invade our world from a prison infirmary.

  There was a TV in here, a luxury that I normally didn’t have, and so I saw those initial reports, saw that shaky footage.

  Heard those screams.

  Saw in pixelated—for those squeamish viewers—HD those huge, grotesque monsters, tearing people apart.

  By the third day, it was clear things out there, in the free world, were not going well.

  But nor were they going too well inside. I had been paranoid about passing the stone I’d swallowed, lest one of the three remaining male nurses who were watching over me and the four other inmates in the infirmary think it was drugs and report it, getting my sentence extended.

  But that hadn’t happened. And I could swear I felt the stone in my chest now.

  I knew that was impossible, you couldn’t swallow something into your chest. But that’s what it felt like.

  By the fourth day, the four other inmates had been released back into gen pop, and there was no one in the infirmary but me, and a new nurse.

  She was young and pretty, and the first female I’d seen in my entire time here.

  I’d never seen any female guards or administrators, or
any other females whatsoever, except for brief glimpses when I would pass by the visitation area.

  An area I had never been in.

  The new nurse seemed distracted—which was understandable given the fact that we were being invaded by aliens—hardly paying me any notice, and I probably could’ve escaped, if it weren’t for the grievous wounds I had.

  Of course, even if I escaped from the infirmary, I’d still be in a prison, and there were guards with rifles outside, watching over the yard from their towers, ready to shoot down anyone who tried to escape.

  Which was rather barbaric if you thought about it.

  Making things even easier, at some point I had been un-handcuffed from the bed, and never re-handcuffed.

  But I could barely stand on my own, and even lying still, the wounds hurt.

  That’s what happened when you got shanked over thirty times.

  About the only thing the nurse had said to me so far, and this wasn’t even really directed at me, was to express surprise at how quickly I was healing.

  But I still had a long way to go yet.

  So, I laid in bed, watching the TV, which was tuned to the news 24/7.

  I would have preferred something less grim, like Dexter reruns, but it wasn’t up to me.

  Occasionally, the nurse would change the channel, but always to another news station.

  The reports each station gave, and even later reports from the same stations, conflicted with each other.

  Some said there were terrorists in mechanical suits, terrorizing cities and towns.

  Others said there were demons, come down to pass judgment.

  That would fit with Gabriel’s predictions. Well, except he was convinced it would have been the other side that would be the one to do the final tally.

  But I didn’t put much stock in either of these kind of reports, as there was no footage of them.

  What there was footage of, however, were the animals.

  Large, horrid beasts, that only vaguely resembled actual animals.

  Things that looked like lions, but which walked on two legs.