Weird Santa Claus Novels & Stories

I always thought elderly men had white hair, kind of like Santa Claus. Do shifter kids even believe in Santa? ‘Focus, Sara.’ ‘I was curious, Chai.’ ‘Why wouldn’t they believe in Santa Claus? Because they transform into wolves and worship the Moon Goddess?’ I can’t help smiling. ‘Well, yeah,’ I sense Chai rolling her eyes at my ignorance. But what am I meant to think? Back to the girl from the kitchen. She’s singing to herself in a language I don’t understand to a song I’ve never heard. Her voice is simply perfect, beautiful even, and her pitch it out of this world! I’d go so far as to say it’s perfect.

This must be a little surprise prepared for me by Nancy and the others. I waved at Santa Claus. Santa walked in, a large red sack slung over his shoulder, taking slow, deliberate steps toward me. As he drew nearer, I realized Santa was actually quite tall. It must be a man. None of the gardeners or drivers around the villa were that tall. Nancy and Lily were cautious—they wouldn’t hire a stranger at the last minute to play Santa Claus. Could it be Michael? I frowned, scrutinizing the man in the Santa costume. By height alone, he did resemble Michael.

"I saw you naked... and you're so hot... I'm just being awkward. I'll shut up." I couldn't help but laugh. Jax was rarely thrown off; I loved that I had that kind of power over him sometimes. I pulled my festive sweatshirt over my head. "You can turn around now. I'm clothed." He turned around slowly as if he didn't believe me. Once he realized I was, indeed, clothed, his eyes hovered on my sweatshirt. It had a portrait of Santa holding a white claw on it. "Santa Claws?" Jax asked, "Where did you get that?"

But tonight, exhaustion mixed with a restless heat low in her belly, making her shift uncomfortably. "Dory, still at it? The reindeer need their rest, and so do you." Santa's voice boomed from the doorway, warm and gravelly, like a hearth fire. At 50-something in appearance but timeless in spirit, Nicholas Claus filled the frame, broad-shouldered, belly rounded from centuries of cookies, his white beard trimmed neat, eyes twinkling with that knowing glint. He wasn't the jolly myth; he was real, weary from the endless rush, shoulders carrying the weight of a world's wishes.

Pondering the age-old enigma of Father Christmas, he found himself ensnared in a labyrinth of bemusement, his brow furrowed in mock solemnity as he contemplated the veracity of the jolly old figure who traversed the world in a single night. With a twinkle of irreverent amusement in his eyes, Asmo mused upon the logistical acrobatics of Santa's legendary journey, his mind veering into the whimsical realm of absurdity as he sought to unravel the enigmatic mystery. The notion of a rotund man squeezing through narrow chimneys and bestowing gifts upon the world in a single night elicited a quiet chuckle from him, the incongruity of it all casting a playful glimmer in his gaze.

Of course, knowing her, she would recover at once and start teasing him. "Are you sure? May I remind you that it's Christmas time and not April Fool's?" "Haha, very funny, Lena. But I'm not joking this time. This time, it's for real and for keeps." "Really now? What makes this one so special?" she answered with a challenging note to her tone. "You have very similar names, Roth is crazy over her scent, and she has kids." Suddenly, the line is filled with awkward silence. "V, she's human? And with her own children too?"

Soft jazz of slow, filthy saxophone, drifted from hidden speakers. A warm hand settled on the small of my back, guiding me forward without a word. I knew this touch. It was gentle, possessive and different. He was waiting in front of the tree. There was no mask this time, just a simple black silk blindfold in his hand and a crimson robe open down the front. The fifth Santa was tall, lean, carved like a statue, and his skin reflected golden in the firelight. A single sprig of mistletoe was tucked behind his ear, and his cock which was thick, flushed,and curved slightly upward, stood proud against his abs, untouched.

Curious? All right, if you promise to keep my secret I’ll tell you…here goes: I want to be fucked by Santa. Oh, c’mon, you know deep down you want it, too. I mean, he’s a guy who always knows what you want, his big bulky body has to be fairly strong to handle all those reindeer and he drives a freakin’ magic sleigh! That’s hawt, if you ask me. And those white whiskers and long, flowing beard…I shudder just to think of those whiskers tickling me in soft and pink places.

“I want to order a clipper. The one that could barb a pretty long female hair, bring it to Classic Castle restaurant.” Selene burst out laughing. My jaw dropped. Daniel was serious. “You can't make me chicken out in fear,” Selene blasted at him.

He was hiding something tonight. I could feel it. “What do you want for Christmas?” he asked suddenly. I blinked. “What?” “If you could have anything.” The question caught me off guard. I should’ve said something normal. A vacation. A better apartment. Freedom from this double life. Instead the words slipped out before I could stop them. “I want Santa to personally pay me a visit.” Silence filled the room. Then his laugh came through the speakers low and dark enough to make my stomach flip. “So needy tonight.”