Writing Exercise: Merry Christmas, ho ho ho!

[StillStunned]

No explanation needed, surely? Let's have some sweet, sexy, sad, bitter, angry, twisted, improbable, implausible, impossible, original, trite, heart-warming or comforting tales of Christmas!

Usual rules: write as if you're submitting it for publication, so no under-age stuff, no hard NC, no bestiality, no 2P POV. And try to watch the word count: aim for a max of about 350 words.

 

[StillStunned]

How had it come to this? He was Father Christmas, wasn’t he? He brought joy to children and adults everywhere. Always had done, hadn’t he?

So why was he trudging through the grey snow? He shivered against the wind and shoved his hands into the pockets of his red coat. It had seen better days, but then again, so had he.

So had the black boots on his feet, that were making a valiant last stand against the ice that was trying to force its way in through the threadbare soles. So had the sad hat, the worn red trousers that threatened to split and embarrass him every time he got up.

Even his beard wasn’t what it was. It had been thick, white, fluffy. Hadn’t it? Now it was as whispy as the breath hanging before his face. As whispy as the journey from back then to now.

Up ahead the bulk of the megamall loomed in the feeble light. He sighed. Another day of screaming kids, demanding parents, impatient mall managers. Another day of hoping his trousers didn’t give out.

Hoping his patience didn’t give out. He was Father Christmas, wasn’t he? Once upon a time he’d have punished anyone who behaved like that. All the screaming, all the demanding, all the… the impatienting. New names on the Naughty List.

Just thinking about it made the anger bubble up inside. He was supposed to be nice, give everyone what they wanted. Not what they deserved, like back in the day. Back in the day nobody would have dared to make a single demand of Father Christmas.

Back in the day the memories still lingered of where he came from. Of what he’d been before he became Father Christmas.

Sigh. It was a nice thought. It was the thought that had sustained him through so many days like this. An idea that he savoured like the final slug of whisky from his flask before he headed on in.

Would it sustain him through another day? He smiled to himself. Let’s find out.

 

[pink_silk_glove]

Emphasis on the 'ho' I presume.

 

[NaughteeDragon]

This was his last stop in this building. He was slightly ahead of schedule due to the good weather, which kind of sucked. Barry was on the Nice list. He was too old for it, but he believed in the spirit, so Nick still visited every year. Nicholas shook his head as he looked around. Normally, Barry’s place was covered in seasonal lights and festive decorations. This year there was only a single ceramic tree with small lights.

Nick wondered if this was Barry’s last year, if he’d finally given into the world and stopped believing. Next to the little tree was a plate with three cookies, a glass of eggnog, and nine slices of apple. Nicholas smiled, there was still life in the spirit. He picked up the eggnog and noticed the note beneath it.

“Santa, I know she doesn’t want anything from me, but can you deliver this gift to Samantha for me? I saw it and knew it was perfect. Thanks, Barry. Merry Christmas.”

A picture on the mantle showed him Samantha and Barry. Nicholas checked his mental notes, she was on the Naughty list, and not the fun naughty list, like Cookie. He picked up the gift and knew that Barry was right. She didn’t deserve it, but what good was belief if it didn’t bring hope?

Samantha’s apartment dripped in decorations and lights. It was a Martha Stewart showcase. It had as much life as a morgue. He went to stick the package in her stocking when he noticed that the only stocking was empty. His list said there should be two. The sound of tears drifted down the hall on the wings of a sad Christmas song. He stopped at her door and listened to her lament. She was apologizing to someone. He looked in and saw her holding a familiar picture.

Slipping back down the hall, he left the package in her stocking along with the gift he had forgotten to leave at Barry’s. “Ho, ho, ho,” he chuckled and was pleasantly surprised to see Samantha. He winked at her astonishment, and disappeared.

 

[SugarStorm]

Anna sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers curled around a cup of coffee. She wore her oldest pyjamas: pink, thin cotton and a little frayed at the sleeves.

"I really should buy a new one," she murmured, smiling to herself as she patted at her legs. "Don't you think?"

"Mom!" a boy yelled from down the hall. "It's going backwards. Why is it-- No, I got it!"

Anna couldn't help but smile.

"You should've seen Ben, how his eyes lit up when he saw the remote controlled car. Same as last year. Same as every year. I swear, he could open one of those at seventeen and still lose his mind.”

A faint crash echoed down the hall, followed by the sharp, delighted squeal. “Mom!”

“Sounds like Eva found the Frozen Lego castle set,” she chuckled, and then raised her voice slightly. “Yeah, sweetie?”

"You're not gonna believe this!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming."

Anna turned to her left.

The nightstand held a single photo in a silver frame. Her wife, smiling. Bright eyes. The kind of photo you never imagine becoming a goodbye.

Anna’s lips trembled. She set the mug down, pressed her palm to her mouth, and for a moment let it all crash through her. She wiped at her eyes quickly, breathing in deep through her nose.

Then she stood, brushing the crease from her pyjama pants before touching the frame, fingers light on the glass.

“Merry Christmas, love.”

And then she left the quiet room behind her, walking toward the light, and the tree, and the kids who still needed their mother.

In the living room, wrapping paper blanketed the floor. The tree glowed in soft, blinking colors. Eva stood in the middle of it all, holding up a Lego piece like she’d just discovered treasure.

“Mom!” she said, grinning. “Ben says mommy can see us from heaven. Is that true?”

Anna paused in the doorway, her breath catching, but with a gentle smile on her face.

“I think she can see everything, yeah.”

 

[SimonDoom]

You rub a hand over your pale, enormous, naked belly while sprawled on a reclining chair on a balcony of a high-rise resort hotel overlooking a strip of Mexican beach and beyond it the ripply, cerulean expanse of the sea. A warm breeze, soft as a whisper, kisses your face and ruffles your white beard. It's January, and you're thousands of miles from your home to the north, enjoying your escape from the tumult of Christmas.

"Trixie! Nixie! Dixie!" you holler. "Where're my tequila shots?"

"Coming!" three girlish voices reply in unison.

Elves. Unreliable at the best of times. You've left all but these three back at the factory at home. But what a trio.

Your naughty smile curls into a frown of worry. You will need to explain their absence, coinciding with yours, to Mrs. Claus. You won't be able to get THAT past the old shrew. You will have to remember to go over the details of the cover story with the threesome several times before you return--they at the toy manufacturing convention in Houston, you in Cancun, scouting the good and naughty children.

Ah well, such worries can wait. So can the tedium of making toys, planning mall appearances, and overseeing the infernal, smelly mess of the reindeer stables. For now, you can enjoy the sun on your face and the erotic charms of your three Elvish companions, whose time and discretion have been well paid for.

At last, they emerge from the room behind you and gather about your chair, naked but for their high heels and tasselled caps. Dixie and Nixie stand on either side of you, one holding a small tray with limes and a salt shaker, the other holding a bottle of expensive anejo tequila, while Trixie kneels at the foot of your recliner and begins pulling your swim trunks down.

Dixie sprinkles salt on her nipple and draws closer, offering it to your lips. You feel the silky wetness of Trixie's mouth close over the rising tumescence between your legs.

"Ho, ho, ho, indeed," you say contentedly to yourself.

 

[redgarters]

Anna sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers curled around a cup of coffee. She wore her oldest pyjamas: pink, thin cotton and a little frayed at the sleeves.

"I really should buy a new one," she murmured, smiling to herself as she patted at her legs. "Don't you think?"

"Mom!" a boy yelled from down the hall. "It's going backwards. Why is it-- No, I got it!"

Anna couldn't help but smile.

"You should've seen Ben, how his eyes lit up when he saw the remote controlled car. Same as last year. Same as every year. I swear, he could open one of those at seventeen and still lose his mind.”

A faint crash echoed down the hall, followed by the sharp, delighted squeal. “Mom!”

“Sounds like Eva found the Frozen Lego castle set,” she chuckled, and then raised her voice slightly. “Yeah, sweetie?”

"You're not gonna believe this!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming."

Anna turned to her left.

The nightstand held a single photo in a silver frame. Her wife, smiling. Bright eyes. The kind of photo you never imagine becoming a goodbye.

Anna’s lips trembled. She set the mug down, pressed her palm to her mouth, and for a moment let it all crash through her. She wiped at her eyes quickly, breathing in deep through her nose.

Then she stood, brushing the crease from her pyjama pants before touching the frame, fingers light on the glass.

“Merry Christmas, love.”

And then she left the quiet room behind her, walking toward the light, and the tree, and the kids who still needed their mother.

In the living room, wrapping paper blanketed the floor. The tree glowed in soft, blinking colors. Eva stood in the middle of it all, holding up a Lego piece like she’d just discovered treasure.

“Mom!” she said, grinning. “Ben says mommy can see us from heaven. Is that true?”

Anna paused in the doorway, her breath catching, but with a gentle smile on her face.

“I think she can see everything, yeah.”

Even with just 350 words you manage to break me.

 

[THBGato]

Anna sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers curled around a cup of coffee. She wore her oldest pyjamas: pink, thin cotton and a little frayed at the sleeves.

"I really should buy a new one," she murmured, smiling to herself as she patted at her legs. "Don't you think?"

"Mom!" a boy yelled from down the hall. "It's going backwards. Why is it-- No, I got it!"

Anna couldn't help but smile.

"You should've seen Ben, how his eyes lit up when he saw the remote controlled car. Same as last year. Same as every year. I swear, he could open one of those at seventeen and still lose his mind.”

A faint crash echoed down the hall, followed by the sharp, delighted squeal. “Mom!”

“Sounds like Eva found the Frozen Lego castle set,” she chuckled, and then raised her voice slightly. “Yeah, sweetie?”

"You're not gonna believe this!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming."

Anna turned to her left.

The nightstand held a single photo in a silver frame. Her wife, smiling. Bright eyes. The kind of photo you never imagine becoming a goodbye.

Anna’s lips trembled. She set the mug down, pressed her palm to her mouth, and for a moment let it all crash through her. She wiped at her eyes quickly, breathing in deep through her nose.

Then she stood, brushing the crease from her pyjama pants before touching the frame, fingers light on the glass.

“Merry Christmas, love.”

And then she left the quiet room behind her, walking toward the light, and the tree, and the kids who still needed their mother.

In the living room, wrapping paper blanketed the floor. The tree glowed in soft, blinking colors. Eva stood in the middle of it all, holding up a Lego piece like she’d just discovered treasure.

“Mom!” she said, grinning. “Ben says mommy can see us from heaven. Is that true?”

Anna paused in the doorway, her breath catching, but with a gentle smile on her face.

“I think she can see everything, yeah.”

I see your entry for next year's 750 words challenge is half-way there then?

 

[Areala-chan]

While I've known about it for weeks, there's still something that feels off about working Christmas Eve.

Don't get me wrong: I like my work. It's difficult, but rewarding in the best ways. Seeing a plan come together, your team executing, knowing in the end an enormous payday is on the way? How could anything compare to that. There's even a party. Snacks. Drinks. People getting up to frisky business in corner offices. A little of the white powder which isn't snow to ring in the Christmas cheer.

I'm far from perfect, so I'm not going to judge. I'm just here to do my job. The best part is, once we're done here tonight, I can look forward to spending the New Year on a beach. And no one will be able to say I haven't earned that. Maybe I'm on Santa's naughty list, but who cares: by next week, I can buy whatever toys my little heart desires.

Except nothing ever goes quite as planned, does it? My boss went over every conceivable scenario, planned for every contingency, except the one none of us could have foreseen: the goddamn fire alarm. The building we're in is still under construction, so the top floors aren't finished yet, and of course, that's where the alarm went off. Boss sent me to see what was going on while he talked to the emergency services dispatcher.

Well, I figured out what the problem was, only I wasn't the right guy to fix it, and worse, I lost my tools trying. So now, I'm on the elevator, making my way back down to the 30th floor, about to spoil the party. My boss is going to be mad, my brother enraged, but it's not my fault. Maybe my outfit will cheer them up, though. Merry Christmas, Karl. I'm sorry.

Tell me what you think of this -- it's a jolly Saint Nicholas hat, and a sweater with a message of holiday cheer scribbled on the front:

NOW I HAVE A MACHINE GUN.

HO-HO-HO.

 

[yowser]

St. Nicholas couldn’t decide which aspect of the deception was most perfect.

That he did the time-warp thing and everyone around the world got chimney-invaded at the exact same instant? That he was jolly? Altruistic? That gullibles imagined he could harness a bunch of brainless reindeer to some stupid magical sled?

That he was some sort of cosmic arbiter of goodness? Like Solomon, could cleave a line between naughty and nice? (Naturally he harbored his own entertainment predilections on the merits of each list.)

Nope. All good solid reasons for a full-belly chuckle but distinctly inadequate.

It was that he was Jewish. And a flaming voyeur to boot.

Nechemya was his true name, “'Comforted by G-d” it meant. “Comfort” didn’t begin to describe his luck.

What better myth-mechanism in the world existed to let him spy in on thousands of randy dumb-ass Christian couples, snogged out on champagne, doing the great thrashing aardvarking business under the guise of yule-tide cheer?

Snoop around the outside of houses and flats while getting a good peek through windows of goyim going at it? Not so much fun up north, to be honest, since so much excitement in the extreme latitudes happened under the damn covers. But down south in the tropics? Splendid.

The US Redneck Riviera, that little slot of degenerate Florida that oozed along the Gulf Coast, those buggers sure knew how to make sexual ruckus.

True, most of the yahoos were uncircumcised, which supremely offended his aesthetics, but the women tended to be wild and unruly, and damn if they weren’t noisy in the throes of pleasure.

He had one memory of a big picture window on a mid-modern ranch style house. Warm humid air, all the other windows wide open. One big lug of a guy was sitting back getting his impressive schlong suckled. The naked wench, possessed of an enchanting darkly-furred schmundie, was having a lovely time of it, before he flopped her over onto her back and tailed her on the rug in front of their fireplace, not that they needed such a thing in that climate. The stockings shook, the hound dog retreated to the next room to avoid the tumult, and the wench let out a yell with her climax that would have rivaled a five-alarm fire signal in New York City.

Now that was what Christmas was all about.

 

[ADirtyPerv]

"Faster, Rudolph!" Santa called, urging his loyal team onwards. Time was of the essence this year, he had even rearranged his route to get to this house first.

Being first is an honor, recorded every year in the Great Book up North. The Book held all of his records (of the document kind as well as the Guinness kind), old Naughty and Nice lists, all his notes of what to buy Mrs. Claus for their anniversary.

This year, the old tome had highlighted a name, Rachel McPherson, and a time of birth, 12:01, Christmas Day, eighteen years ago. Little known fact, Santa was incapable of delivering a gift to someone after they reached adulthood. Da Rules prohibited it.

And Rachel had been so good all year! Every year, really. He'd always left little birthday presents with her Christmas presents, because he knew she didn't like the way her birthday vanished into the magic of Christmas.

But there was a speed bump. Everest, ugh. He needed to trim that mountain. It sent his team careening, and by the time they corrected...well. He was a minute late.

So Santa found himself standing in front of a sumptuously decorated tree, a Christmas present in hand -- a framed picture of Bruno, her dog, who had died last month. But he couldn't deliver it. Da Rules.

There was a sound behind him, and he turned to see Rachel standing there in a big shirt. The present vanished. "Too late, huh?" she asked.

He nodded. "Merry Christmas anyway, Rachel."

"What about my birthday present?"

"I fudged Da Rules a bit to give you those. There was just enough wiggle room. Without the Christmas present..." He shrugged.

"Then you better get going, huh? Lots of actual kids to visit. There's no time for me." Her lip quivered.

Santa glanced at the clock on the mantel.

Tick

It slowed to a glacial pace.

"I have time, when needs must. Long as I'm not moving too fast, anyway. Relativity is a bitch."

"Oh, is THAT how you do it?"

He nodded. "Need a hug?"

Rachel nodded, and discovered the wonders of Santa hugs -- a rare thing. "Thanks for everything, Santa. For always remembering me, even when everyone else forgets. I'm not ready to say goodbye, but I don't think I have much choice."

"No, unfortunately not. I'm so sorry I was late. Merry Christmas, little one."

But time waits for no one, not even Santa.

Tock

He was gone.

Rachel thought she could just hear sleigh bells, but she'd never know for sure.

 

[EmilyMiller]

No explanation needed, surely? Let's have some sweet, sexy, sad, bitter, angry, twisted, improbable, implausible, impossible, original, trite, heart-warming or comforting tales of Christmas!

Usual rules: write as if you're submitting it for publication, so no under-age stuff, no hard NC, no bestiality, no 2P POV. And try to watch the word count: aim for a max of about 350 words.

Does this count?

—

As I sprang on the bed, and his balls gave a tickle

His cock it did twitch and begin to trickle

And I heard him exclaim, as I started to suck

“Happy Christmas my Em, you’re such a good fuck!”

 

[dirk2024]

Mrs. Claus

Mary Claus hustled over to the reindeer. They were all strapped in to the harness at the front of the sleigh, ready to pull at Santa’s command. As she moved across the floor, her wide hips swept left and right, and her breasts jiggled underneath the Christmas sweater she wore. Mary won the ugly sweater contest every year, much to the chagrin to a growing number of elves who were beginning to wonder if nepotism had crept into Santaland.

As she hustled and her body wiggled, one pair of eyes were watching, intently.

Arriving at the front of the pack, she slipped one of her special treats to Rudolph. She baked these special treats each year. Not only tasty, but they provided a healthy boost for the reindeer on what was an exhaustive voyage around the world, helping Santa with his appointed rounds.

She fed her last treat to Blitzen, then lifted another bag of baked goodies into the sleigh to help energize her husband through this lengthy night. Mary felt eyes upon her, and furtively looked around, seeking the source. Eventually, they met. Warmth spread over her body as she viewed her lover, while trying not to call attention to her actions. There were still duties to accomplish tonight before presents could be opened here in Santaland.

Soon, Santa hopped aboard his sleigh and commanded the reindeer to fly out into the cold, dark night. Mary looked around the loading area. Despite the elves’ best efforts, there was still a lot of clutter that needed to be put away or tossed into furnace. No doubt, the workshop was in the same state of affairs and after issuing a few directives, left the loading dock and ventured to the workshop to oversee the clean up there. Santa shouldn’t return home to a messy home after doing so much good around the world.

Just before she reached the workshop, a small pair of hands abruptly pulled her into a broom closet and locked the door. She now had a wicked smile on her face as Buddy the Elf dropped his pants, proving that not everything on an elf was small.

 

[redgarters]

Got this image of my favourite little trio into my head, thinking about this challenge earlier tonight. Had to write it down. The preceding events can be found here, if you're interested.


Fairytale of Queens

The apartment was eerily quiet when I opened my eyes, alert. Something felt different.

Marianne’s side of the bed was empty.

I listened for movement, but everything was still. Not a sound to be heard except for the usual night noises of the city that never slept, not even on Christmas Eve.

It was too quiet.

I slipped quietly from under the covers, picked up my night T off the chair and pulled it on as I walked softly over the cold floorboards to the half open bedroom door.

A sliver of moonlight fell across the darkened hall from next door. I tiptoed over and stood in the doorway.

She was there, sitting on the edge of the bed, watching Sarah sleep tucked into her army of stuffies.

“Hey. You okay?” I half whispered.

She looked my way, not startled, just gently surprised. Like she’d been deep in thought.

“Yeah. Just… thinking.”

I stepped inside and sat on the desk chair, reaching for her hand. She took it with a small smile.

“She’s beautiful.” I meant it. Nearly nine, curious and talented, that kid held a special place in my heart. Just like her mom.

“Marianne…. what’s on your mind?”

She looked back at Sarah.

“Oh, it’s nothing. It’s just… it’s our first Christmas together since she was five. since I…”

Since she went to prison, losing Sarah to the foster care system for over two years. I knew it was something she’d never forgive herself for.

“I keep having to pinch myself to believe she’s here... for good.”

“Hey, it’s okay… you’re together now. We’re together. We’ll always be together, I promise.”

She looked at me and squeezed my hand.

“She idolises you, you know that?”

I went quiet for a bit.

“I… I don’t want to be her idol… I just… want us to be a family. A chance to be the parent she deserves. To love her.”

Marianne stood, pulling me into a hug.

“We already are a family Lydia. And you’re a wonderful mom to her. I love you. Sarah loves you too. You know that.”

I let myself sink into her love, my eyes stinging..

“Yeah… I do. I love you too. I love you both so much.”

Her lips found mine in a true love’s kiss, one of the ones that conquer all.

Somewhere from the mountain of stuffies, a groggy little voice piped up.

“Mommy? Is it Christmas morning yet? Did Santa come?”

I could feel Marianne’s smile on my lips.

“I guess it’s Merry Christmas now.”

“Yup. Merry Christmas.”

We descended on the queen of stuffies tucked into her throne, covering her cheeks in Christmas kisses.

It was the best Christmas of my life.

Santa had brought me a family.

 

[Erozetta]

He was confused.

Her eyes were doe-like. Wide and bright, full of… Well, not fear, not dread of what was coming, but excitement. Everything about her suggested she should be a trembling mess begging for mercy at his feet. Not eager for more.

He sat back on his throne, perplexed.

“I told you she was an odd case,” the laugh that followed was jolly. How he hated the sound.

“Yeah. Starting with she's at least 20 years older than the ones we normally beat the naughty out of.”

“You beat. I gift,” the jolly voice said. He walked into the room, his appearance was neat, a simple black suit with a red pocket square and matching tie. His hair was styled in long white curls, and his matching beard and mustache were shaped elegantly.

The human counterpart of the shadowed demon sat upon an emerald throne.

“Why did you bring her to me, anyway? She's much too old to have her behavior corrected. Too set in her ways.”

“Oh.” The jolly man laughed. “I didn't bring her to you for correction.” He placed his hand beneath her chin and lifted her head. She purred and leaned into his palm. “She's a rarity. Goodness through and through, still believes in magic and kindness above all…”

“Then why drop her at my door? If not to be punished then…”

“Well, dear shadow of mine, I've tried for years to reward her for her goodness, but she has never taken to my gifts. I was curious to see if she might take some pleasure in your methods, and it seems I was right.”

“Wait, I was her gift?”

The jolly man nodded then looked up at the demon. “Did she wear you out?”

“I broke more than one branch across her bottom and she would merely moan. I thought… I thought I'd gone soft.”

The jolly man smiled broadly. “Oh, you'll never go soft around her. Now, don't you think she deserves a little more from us?”

“More? What more?”

The jolly man held her cheek as she unfastened his pants.

“Oh.” Nutte.

 

[SugarStorm]

but what good was belief if it didn’t bring hope?

swoon

I see your entry for next year's 750 words challenge is half-way there then?

Sometimes a story just sneaks up on you. Frozen was on in the background, “Ben” was busy with his RC car, and family was happy and content. The original version ended with her crying alone in the bedroom, but we couldn’t have that on a Christmas morning, could we?

NOW I HAVE A MACHINE GUN.

It took me until "Merry Christmas, Karl" before I figured it out. I'm an embarrassment!

 

[nice90sguy]

Yuletide, silent day, quick night
Overwhelming wishes bright
Under pine, the every hope
All the somnambulists arise
Run among the starlight’s eyes
Ever shining, ever cold
New year’s morning will unfold
Overwhelming tales untold
This will be my year, she sings
Again she comes, with dazzling wings
Lie with me, and dream of love
Or fly again to stars above
Never fading, never done,
Each of us a loving sun

 

[redgarters]

Sometimes a story just sneaks up on you. Frozen was on in the background, “Ben” was busy with his RC car, and family was happy and content. The original version ended with her crying alone in the bedroom, but we couldn’t have that on a Christmas morning, could we?

It's perfect. Now we just need the other 20K words or so...

 

[caleb35]

I mean, I'm tempted to jot down something real quick, but after @SugarStorm 's entry, I don't know what the point would be

EDIT: tried to come up with something but the Christmas cheer left me as the day went on and as I talked with relatives. Also, I didn't have anything as good as the excellent contributions made by others; congrats to all who posted and thanks for @StillStunned for the thread

 

[ShelbyDawn57]

“Amber, I think this one is for you.” I showed her the box full of simple cotton bikini briefs, laughing as I tried to hand it to her. Our mom has this system where she doesn’t put names on gifts for Christmas. All three of us, me, my twin sister Amber and our older brother Rick, had our own wrapping paper. Sometimes things got wrapped in the wrong paper.

“Or maybe Santa wants you to stop raiding my underwear drawer.” She smirked.

I looked at my mom. “Sounds like a Santa thing to me.” She just shrugged.

“But…” I was so confused. I’d been so careful. They couldn’t know.

Tentatively, cautiously, I reached for the biggest box in ‘my’ paper. I knew immediately that it was from my dad. I’d been begging him for a new MacBook Air ever since I graduated. But it was pink.

“Sorry sport. It was on sale.” He was a horrible liar.

Another box, this one with jeans, Wranglers with elaborate stitching on the back pockets, not the simple W on my boy jeans. Then pajamas just like the ones my mom and Amber were wearing, perfume, the same one my mom wore I loved so much.

Confused as I was excited, I tore into my gifts, more clothes, some jewelry, a pair of little longhorn bangles just like the studs I’d lied about, telling them I just got them on a whim for the Georgia game when the Bulldogs came to Austin to play the Longhorns.

“Open that one.” My dad pointed to another, larger box behind the tree. They weren’t just boots; they were handmade Lucchese with a big butterfly on the upper part of the boot. I loved butterflies.

“Dad, Mom… What?” I was crying. They knew. But how?

“We just wish you had talked to us so we could have been there for you. Sneaking around, hiding who you are, it had to be so heavy. We love you and always will.”

I was speechless.

“Hey Steve?” Rick called my name. I turned to face him just in time to catch a small, poorly wrapped box he had tossed to me.

Trembling, I unwrapped the package, opening it to find a simple gold chain with Stephanie suspended in the middle in script.

“Merry Christmas, little sister.”

 

[StillStunned]

He could see the people inside the house. A woman and a man, sitting before the hearth, kissing and cuddling. How he yearned to be there too! Or at least press his nose against the glass to see them properly.

But his nose was a carrot, and he was a Snowman, and he was rooted on the snow-covered lawn. As much chance of moving closer as he had of flying up and spying on the whole world on this magical night.

Movement above caught his eye, and he looked up. A small face had appeared in a window – the young son of the happy couple below. Pale cheeks and dark eyes looked back at him, then the face disappeared. The Snowman returned his gaze to the couple downstairs.

“Are you cold?”

The Snowman looked down. It was the child from upstairs, standing before him on the lawn. His breath frosted before his face, but he didn’t seem to be bothered by the chill of the frozen night’s air.

The Snowman didn’t reply. How could he? His mouth was a row of black coals.

“How lonely you must be!” the boy continued. “I wish you and I could fly up into the sky and explore the whole world tonight!”

Wouldn’t that be a wondrous thing? thought the Snowman. Flying anywhere, peering into windows with warm light showing behind, watching the people inside.

The little boy held out his hand. The Snowman didn’t take it. How could he? His hands were twigs at the ends of branches.

With a shrug, the boy turned around and went back inside. The Snowman watched him go, wondering what was going through the kid’s mind. Disappointment? Had he really expected to have some kind of dreamlike adventure, soaring through the skies, hand in hand with a Snowman?

Again he turned his gaze to the downstairs window, yearning to be closer, to see better, to move–

He moved! A hop, then a bounce, and he came free from the lawn that had held him down. Up into the air he rose, twirling around in a sparkle of snowflakes. Flying! Freedom!

A glance down told him that nothing was going to happen inside the house. A bit of kissing, a little petting, that was all.

Screw that. He was off to discover the world and look for windows where naked people were having sex!

 

[StillStunned]

EDIT: tried to come up with something but the Christmas cheer left me as the day went on and as I talked with relatives. Also, I didn't have anything as good as the excellent contributions made by others; congrats to all who posted and thanks for @StillStunned for the thread

These Writing Exercises aren't intended as a competition, or anything like that. Just write something that you might include in a Christmas story, or a twist on a Christmas staple, or even the most trite scene imaginable.

The very first Writing Exercise was "Show us your style", where I asked people to write their own version of a scene I'd set up.

And I think that's still the basic idea: write something based on the theme, but in your style, or with your humour, or set in your story world. Show us how you write.

So give it a go. Nobody's judging these snippets. There's no right and wrong, or better and worse. There's only sharing and not sharing.

 

[MK_Whimsy]

The job ad seemed innocuous enough. Help handle packages during the holidays while wearing a festive outfit. As he ran his tongue under the bit in his mouth, he wondered whose idea of "festive" this was supposed to represent.

Writhing around within his tack, he twisted his body left and right as he pulled the sleigh through the thin layer of snow. The array of padded leather straps kept his arms neatly tied behind his back, parallel to the ground, and the bells on his intricate chest harness jingled as he heaved his body forward. He groaned each time he had to endure the gentle tugging of his reins each time his driver had to steer him. How rude.

"Onward!" came the driver. "Ho!" A cheerful anthropomorphic reindeer, quite large and bulky, with a deep, booming voice. Perfect for issuing commands. A string of colorful lights adorned his antlers, and he was dressed in festive red and white attire. He leaned back in the comfort of the sleigh and kicked his legs up. He hummed a holiday tune quietly while watching his new hire toil to draw the sleigh and its absurd load of packages.

The new hire mumbled around his bit, shivering each time his driver delightedly bossed him around. He didn't think that the cartoony logo on the ad would actually represent whom he would answer to, he underestimated how kinky this assignment was going to be in general, and he certainly didn't expect the level of frission the work kept eliciting from him. But it did.

And while he initially deliberated over giving the labor board an earful once the role was finished, he also remembered the job ad mentioning something about the possibility of temp-to-hire.

No. He couldn't possibly. But he was tempted. Maybe he would.

Because despite himself, he found he was good at this. And it was growing on him. And they needed all the help they could get, and he had an impeccable work ethic too.

(I feel like I already wrote a story like this once. )

 

[caleb35]

These Writing Exercises aren't intended as a competition, or anything like that. Just write something that you might include in a Christmas story, or a twist on a Christmas staple, or even the most trite scene imaginable.

The very first Writing Exercise was "Show us your style", where I asked people to write their own version of a scene I'd set up.

And I think that's still the basic idea: write something based on the theme, but in your style, or with your humour, or set in your story world. Show us how you write.

So give it a go. Nobody's judging these snippets. There's no right and wrong, or better and worse. There's only sharing and not sharing.

Nellie dressed in the bedroom while Wanda waited. There was a Cheval mirror in the room and she modeled in front of it. She looked good, she thought, good enough to eat. She'd picked up the little two piece number just a week before but had been thinking about getting something like it for better part of a month, ever since Wanda told her about the cabin that she'd booked. Both pieces were bright red and held in place by bows, one in front for the top, and two on each side for the bottom. Neither piece covered very much of her but hid just enough to make everything more appealing. She slipped into matching red heels and sauntered into the living area.

Wanda -- seated on the leather couch in front of the fire -- turned to look at her and the gasp she made was everything that she could've wanted that Christmas.

"Holy shit," Wanda said.

"You like?" she said, putting her hands on hips, and did a little pivot, first to one side, then the other.

Without taking her eyes off her, Wanda put her glass of port down on the coffee table and walked around the couch and up to Nellie. The lovers engaged in a long, deep kiss. Nellie broke the embrace when she felt Wanda's hands start to tug on the tie on her chest. "Uh uh," she said. She walked over to the tree -- an honest-to-God Christmas tree, and she didn't want to know what it was costing Wanda to rent this lodge -- and she said, "Presents have to be unwrapped by the tree."

"That they do," Wanda said and joined Nellie by the tree. She untied the bow in front and the top fell to the floor. She untied the two bows, first the one on Nellie's right and then the one on her left, caressing Nellie's flanks as she did so. And then the bottom piece was discarded on the floor next to the top. Nellie spared a thought for how it was a shame how briefly she'd worn the ensemble but then Wanda's lips were on her nipples and she had other things to think about and utter. And then Wanda was pulling her gently to the floor and laying her out on her back and opening her legs and as she felt her girlfriend's mouth on her sex her last coherent thought was that it was proper -- first she had been literally undressed by the tree by Wanda's hands and now she was being undressed figuratively under the tree by her tongue.

 

[SyleusSnow]

The only thing sadder than numbing the pain in a squalid hotel bar on Christmas Day was the expression that poor woman’s face.

"Fuck off," she said, clutching her whisky when I approached.

"Misery loves company," I ventured.

Scowling, she said, "And despair loves being alone."

"Not mine," I said, sitting. "I'm a good listener. Try me."

"You didn't listen when I said fuck off."

"Tell me. I was a priest. Couldn't keep it in my pants, but I never violated the sanctity of confession."

"Boys?"

"Ha, no. Wives."

Silence ballooned around us, blotting out the murmured misery of the bar.

Finally, she said, "I couldn't keep him OUT of my pants."

“Someone’s husband?"

"Someone's brother. Mine."

"Oh, dear."

"20 years of us doing it and today we get caught in my old room before Christmas dinner."

Having a sympathetic soul listen can’t absolve our sins, but it eases the burden for a time. So does an epic railing.

The hotel didn’t charge by the hour but should have. Our lust, at first hesitant, grew trusting and playful into the night. I daresay I took her closer to heaven than her brother ever had. She was warm and needy and wonderfully raunchy, better than any of my times with the governor’s wife. That Christmas Day ended with us sweaty and glowing with festive cheer.

Still, fucking family is a mortal sin. Unforgivable.

The morning they dug her from the snowbank, the cops had good questions. I had good answers - always do. One day those words will run out and it’ll be death row. When they kill me, I hope it’s at Christmas. It’s my favorite time of year.