Amp sucks on the tongues and rubs Double’s back. “Let him have them, as long as I can have you. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas.”
Cameron Pierce is one of the shining young stars of the bizarro genre and someone I have mentored since he was a teenager. I’ve seen him grow into a fine young man, one who physically assaults audience members in his readings by throwing pickles, hubcaps, or raw meat at them while wearing a banana suit and carrying a sword. His books, which I often call “Dr. Seuss meets David Cronenberg, ” have already become staples in the bizarro genre. From The Pickled Apocalypse of Pancake Island, about a sad pickle who falls in love with a beautiful pancake, to The Ass Goblins of Auschwitz, about children imprisoned within a concentration camp run by sadistic monsters called the ass goblins, Cameron’s books are as cute and playful as they are surreal and disturbing.
Kirsten Alene was just published in the New Bizarro Author Series with her first book, Love in the Time of Dinosaurs, which is a tale of love, betrayal, and kung fu magic . . . Not to mention dinosaurs with fucking machine guns! Kirsten seems like such a nice girl in person, but I think Cameron must have corrupted her while co-writing this story because it is perhaps the most perverted and vile story in this book. It’s elf porn, basically, a weird fucking elf porn story.
So get into your reindeer pajamas, crawl into bed with a loved one, and enjoy the magical adventure of two adorable young elf sisters . . .
THE ELF-SLUT SISTERS
Betty and I were on our way to Daddy’s house to spend the holidays with him when a blizzard practically wiped the highway off the map.
Betty is my twin sister. She’s the tall, skinny one. I’m the short, fat one. Daddy calls us the two most fuckable cunts in this cold country. I think he just misses Mama, who succumbed to tuberculosis last year.
Now, we wouldn’t have gotten so lost if Betty pulled over and let the storm pass. She’s so impatient and stubborn, she kept on driving even though polar bears in this region are notorious for preying on stranded, nubile elves such as us.
“Betty,” I told her, moments before she crashed the car into Santa’s reindeer barn, “if Daddy don’t give your anus an aneurism this Christmas, I’ll tear my tits off and feed ‘em to the penguins.” Then we busted through the side of the barn and ran over poor Rudolph.
At first, we thought maybe we’d driven into one of those big factories where they farm reindeer for their meat and fur. Then Rudolph, that red-nosed son-of-a-bitch, started bleating like a baby seal getting raped by narwhals.
All at once, all the reindeer began to scream.
We tried to pry open the car doors, but Betty had done a pro job of wedging us in. We were trapped, two succulent elf sisters at the mercy of whoever found us.
A short while later, Santa Claus himself stumbled up to the car. “Strike my loins, it’s Santa,” Betty said. “What great fortune to find, in such terrible circumstances, the jolliest man alive.”
Betty and I had never met Santa before. Naturally, we were excited. He’d retired from the gift trade and become a recluse before we were born. Even the location of his ranch was a big secret, so crashing into Santa’s reindeer barn in the middle of a blizzard was sort of like the best accidental Christmas present ever.
Betty cranked the window down and said, “We’re terribly sorry, Mr. Claus. My sister and I were on the way to spend the holidays with our lonely widower father, but somehow we’ve wound up in your reindeer barn. We’ll do anything to repay you for the damage. Honest. Anything.”
Santa looked at us with green eyes that made my pussy wet.
Then he tore off the driver-side door with a gargantuan gloved hand, pushing me onto the tip of the orgasm iceberg. I have a thing for large hands.
He wiped some cookie crumbs out of his beard, winked at us, and turned to assist Rudolph.
Betty hopped out of the car and knelt beside Santa. She ripped her sweater down from its v-neck collar and pulled out her tits. She lowered herself to Rudolph so the reindeer could suckle, then she grabbed Santa by the back of the head and guided him to her other breast. She moaned as the reindeer and the old man nursed.
I witnessed the action through the windshield. Santa’s mouth was big enough to suckle ten titties at once. The reindeer bucked on their leashes, anxious for elf milk. I was fuming with jealousy. Betty and I never fucked, let alone touched or sucked, any man, woman, child, or beast, without first agreeing on the job, and we always started together. This was a major betrayal on her part.
When her tits were deflated and empty of milk, Betty tore off her pants and grabbed Rudolph by the head. The reindeer was dead by this point, but she horn-fucked him anyway.
I looked at Santa, hoping he’d slap Betty for mistreating his poor dead animal, but an erection as big as a whale’s burst through his red spandex pants.
He forced his cock into the reindeer’s loose asshole. He must’ve worked Rudolph before.
It pleased me that Santa preferred a dead reindeer to my sister. I shoved a hand down my pants and focused on him. I was nearing my climax when Rudolph’s broken jaw opened, forced wide by the purple head of Santa’s cock. Betty bucked forward on the horns that must’ve been a foot deep in both her holes. The cock’s head was bigger than hers, so she pulled a move I’d never seen in my life. Betty stuck her face in that great gaping pisshole and ate it out like we used to eat out Mama after Christmas dinner. Santa reached out and stroked her hair with the pinky of one of his gloved hands. Gently, he pushed her entire head into the pisshole.
At first Betty panicked, flailing her limbs and twisting on the horns enough to cause her pussy to bleed, and Betty’s was an iron pussy. That furball never bled.
But with great tenderness, Santa guided Betty in the fine and formerly unknown art of head-fucking a pisshole.
I forgot all about my own attempts to orgasm until Santa and Betty came together. Then I yanked the car key from the ignition and ground the jagged metal teeth into my vulva, sawing the clitoris clean off. My scream distracted them from their fuckfest.
Betty pulled her head out of Santa’s pisshole and slid off of Rudolph’s horns. She hurried to the driver’s side door and said, “Oh jeez, Mabel, what have you done to yourself?” Through the mask of semen coating her head and shoulders, I could see the look of guilt on Betty’s face. I dangled my severed clitoris between two fingers.
Santa pushed Betty aside. “Ho ho ho, you didn’t tell me you had a friend,” he said. He reached one of his massive hands into the car and took my clitoris from me. He slurped it into his mouth like a string of spaghetti. When he pulled it out, the fleshy ball was clean of blood. “Sweet as mackerel pie,” Santa said. He sucked my clitoris into his mouth again, holding it between his lips and gums like a wad of chewing tobacco. His eyes rolled back in his head. I had a spasm of delight, seeing the old man enjoy the meat of my loins.
But I was close to passing out from blood loss. “Santa,” Betty said, in her candied little girl voice that she adopted whenever she wanted to ask a favor of a man, “my sister is deathly close to passing out from blood loss, and the blizzard out there is blowing something fierce. Is there any possible way we could dress her wounds and lie her down, at least until the storm lets up? Anywhere will do, even this musty old reindeer barn. We don’t even have to spend the night.”
“Sisters? Ho ho ho, and just when I thought I’d never get what I wanted for Christmas. I’ve never had sisters before.”
“But what about on Christmas Eve?” Betty said, feigning concern.
Santa laughed a little shyly. “Oh, I’ve occasionally stumbled upon little girls sleeping in beds and tickled their truffles while they dreamed of me giving them presents, but I was only touching. I never gave them what I really wanted to give them, if you know what I mean. Mrs. Claus always said it would sully my reputation if a bunch of tweens and toddlers who were presumed to be virgins all got pregnant on Christmas Eve. It’d be inconvenient for me if nine months later
they gave birth to jolly little children with white beards, plump bellies, and red cheeks. People trust you in the gift business not to fuck little girls.”
“Well may we come in?” Betty asked sweetly as blood pooled in the passenger seat beneath me.
Santa licked his fat red lips, looking from Betty to me, from me to Betty. “It depends,” he said.
“Depends? What does it depend on?” Betty said nervously. I could tell that she was afraid that Santa would send us back into the blizzard and what with me close to passing out, it would be totally up to her to ensure we didn’t freeze to death.
“What kind of cookies are you willing to offer Santa?” Santa said.
Betty giggled. “My sister and I bake all sorts of cookies, anything you want, and we swear they’ll be the sweetest you’ve ever tasted.”
“So your sister’s clit suggests. Well, I suppose I can put up two stranded elf sisters, but you have to promise that for my act of charity, you’ll show me all the charity in the world.”
“Anything for you Santa.” Betty batted her long eyelashes. “Tell him, Mabel. Tell Santa you’ll be a good little
sex toy this Christmas.”
Just as I opened my mouth to tell Santa the exact number of positions I’ve been fucked in (97, if you count the nostrils as separate holes) I must have passed out, because the next thing I remember is the warm fat of Santa’s ample stomach pressing against my side as I was carried out into the cold, then a fragrant wash of warm air and the sound of a crackling fire.
I awoke naked on the stone hearth. I could hear Betty moaning in another room. I felt between my legs to check if I was still bleeding, I pulled something wet and soft from my pussy. I brought my hand to my face and sniffed. Cookie dough. They’d covered my pussy in snickerdoodle cookie dough.
I licked my hand, tasting cinnamon, sugar, blood, and my own fishiness. They’d spread a lot of cookie dough between my legs. I decided to save the rest for later.
I got up and stood by the fire, warming my backside, then I moved toward Betty’s moans. I could hear the rhythmic slapping of gigantic balls against her ass, the grunts and hoots of Santa. Then I heard a shrill scream and the unmistakable sloppy sound of flesh tearing. This worried me. Betty took a dick better than anyone. On a good day, her asshole could accommodate two fists and a dick and be button-tight again in the morning.
I remember one time over dinner Daddy dared Betty to fuck Biff, the meanest, horniest bull anyone had ever seen. Biff belonged to the neighbors. They kept him locked in a pen with electric walls twenty-feet high because Biff was so mean he’d gore any male he could, and he was so horny he’d fuck any female, whether they let him or not, regardless of species. Well, Betty never took a bet lightly.
She excused herself from the dinner table and came out of her bedroom five minutes later, wearing the shortest, sexiest dress she owned.
“And just where do you think you’re goin’?” Daddy asked Betty.
“I have a date with a bull,” Betty said, and she marched right out of the house. Daddy and I scrambled after her.
We followed Betty cautiously as she crossed our property over to the electric pen of Biff. The voltage surging through that fence could kill a person, but Betty slipped between the thick wires like a salmon. Daddy called after her, demanding that she get back out of there immediately.
He was scared shitless, but not even the imminent death of his own daughter could compel him to climb into the pen with Biff. I held Daddy’s hand, as much for his sake as for mine. Biff emerged from the barn, huge bouts of steam rising from his nostrils. Hoof to back, he stood ten feet tall. Betty kept her distance.
She looked scared but, after only a moment, she began to sway from side to side, her hips gyrating sensuously. Biff stamped his feet. Between his hind legs, a black dick stiffened and swelled. The bull seemed to smile but with animals it’s hard to tell.
Betty continued to dance, running her long fingers up her own body. Daddy continued to shout. Finally, the bull charged, head lowered. He was going to gouge a horn through Betty before fucking her. Betty bent over and raised her ass into the air. I thought for sure Biff would stab a horn right through her anus. Instead, he skidded to a halt and stared, entranced by Betty’s ass. He came up to her on delicate feet and proceeded to lick her ass with his long black tongue.
We had thought it was the end for Betty. Instead, she had the beast that had killed and raped so many eating out her ass.
Daddy began to cry. “Will you look at that,” he said.
It’s magic.
Betty farted once or twice, just to assert her power over the bull. After a while, she lay down beneath the bull and let him slather her in several gallons of hot cum. I know it was hot because steam rose off her flesh, and I saw the burns later that night, when I crawled into Betty’s bed and asked if I could eat her ass too.
We’d fucked each other before then, but only casually. The night Betty tamed Biff was when our sisterhood definitively exploded into something beyond mere sexuality. It’s when we decided that we would become elf goddesses of love. If something could be fucked, we’d fuck it, and we’d do it out of love for each other.
Entering the kitchen after I’d woken from a blackout caused by clitoral loss, Santa’s cock usurped all notions of sex I had previously held. Betty was pinned facedown on the floor beneath the rollicking fat of Santa’s belly. Betty’s flesh bulged in places, as if snakes were crawling under her skin. It didn’t take me long to realize they were the veins of Santa’s penis. He’d literally filled her up. I worried about organ damage and broken bones, but if anyone could take a full-body cock colonic, it was Betty.
But instead of pride, I felt that Betty had betrayed me, again. Ever since Biff, we never fucked apart. It was true that Betty had always dreamed of screwing Santa, but that was every elf girl’s dream. We dreamed that dream together.
Despite feeling like the third wheel, I cooed erotically to alert them to my presence, and jumped into the sexual fray. I sucked on Santa’s toes, a minor pleasure compared to the full internal fucking Betty was taking from him, but minor pleasures should never be underestimated during sexual engagement. The slightest brush of a fingertip along a protruding notch of spine, a kiss behind the knee, the tickle of hair tossed across a shoulder, a nose pressed into the Adam’s apple to plant a thought of strangulation . . . minor pleasures were my territory. I was the solitary snowflake to Betty’s field of snowmen.
So I sucked on Santa’s scabby toes. The gray cheese between those toes was more than I expected, but I accepted it gratefully. I tried to quell my jealousy of Betty, for without her I would not even have Santa’s toe cheese. I sucked on the toes harder, tonguing beneath the nails more vigorously, yet nothing could ease the feeling of betrayal.
Maybe it had all been an act. Maybe Betty had always been waiting for the time when she could prove her superiority over me, waiting to dominate me, as she had dominated Biff. I felt suddenly disgusted.
If that were the case, then she would have to try harder. I was resolved to prove to her, by the time we left Santa’s, that she needed me as much as, and perhaps even more than, I needed her.
For the moment, I closed my eyes and focused on sucking toes, until Santa let out an ecstatic wail and a tremor shivered down to his feet. I lifted my eyes and witnessed a fountain of sperm billow out of Betty’s mouth. She was a glorious fountain. I wondered how it felt, a cock rubbing against your lungs and making your neck bulge out like a walrus’s. When she caught me staring, Betty winked at me.
After the sexual encounter in the kitchen, Santa served us milk and snickerdoodle cookies in the room where I’d awoken. We sat around the fire, Santa and Betty glowing, and me, picking smelly toe grout from between my teeth. I asked them about the cookie dough smeared on my pussy.
“I’d planned to eat you out after you woke up, let you marinate a little,” Santa said, “but your sister didn’t want to wait. She overtook me and, being the gentleman that I am
, I couldn’t deny her a ride on the jolly stick.” That’s what Santa called his penis. The jolly stick. “I’d go down on you now if your sister hadn’t sucked the last ounce of sexual energy from my enormous cock. Thanks for the toe kisses, though. They were sweet.”
I took a long drink of milk to hide my disgust.
“What about your sister fetish?” Betty asked. “Wouldn’t you still like to fuck both of us? Mabel and I have always fantasized about double-teaming you. It’s a shame that my urges overcame me and we couldn’t share you tonight, but Mabel likes big cocks too. Don’t you, Mabel?”
I choked on the milk. Santa laughed, spraying cookie crumbs across the room. The cookie dough covering my crotch had grown crusty, and I was beginning to believe that this really was an elaborate plot of Betty’s, meant to subdue and humiliate me.
Santa dipped two cookies in his milk and shoved both in his mouth at once. “You,” he said to Betty, talking while he chewed, “are the greatest thing the jolly stick has ever plunged. Given the chance to fuck all the sisters in the world at once, any time I wanted, I would turn it down just to lay with you a single time. Unless your sister is as good as you, I don’t think the jolly stick will feel inclined to plunge another pussy again. You have set my loins, and thus my heart, on fire. I’ll be placing a call to Mrs. Claus in the morning to request that she never return from Nepal. You and I are to be married, sweet elf.”
“Won’t there be outrage over you leaving Mrs. Claus to marry an elf?” Betty asked, her eyes wide and reflective.
“Mrs. Claus was infertile. I’m an old man and if I don’t impregnate something soon, my lineage will be lost forever. You’ll bear me children, won’t you, sweet elf?”
Christmas on Crack Page 8