Lucky for them, Krampus stepped in to help, much to the world’s surprise and dismay. Most people had never heard of him, and no one believed he was real until the day he appeared. Santa was really real though. He had been their hero. Their champion. Their beloved lord of getting free crap and love and stuff. If only he would come back.
It was a cold and damp November day when Krampus crawled out of the dark anus of the underworld and began to win over the people with lavish gift-giving and praise. They loved the attention, and soon began to believe in him as a gift-giver and were content, even though he was ugly as fuck, disgusting, and creepy. Krampus was their new savior. The new and beloved gift-giver. Better than Jesus. In fact, maybe he was Jesus, some claimed. He would save the world! The mighty Krampus would bring back Christmas and the joy of receiving free crap. He would make Christmas great again!
The newfound joy didn’t last long. As soon as Krampus was accepted as the new gift-giver-in-chief, his policies began to change. Instead of Christmas, we had Krampusnacht, and it was on the fifth of December, not the twenty-fifth. His gifting and being kind to all people soon stopped, and he began to be about violence and punishing the children he deemed to be “Bad.” The choices he made were suspect too, and often a good boy or girl would get punished without even knowing why.
Those who worshipped him, he praised and gave them all that their hearts desired. The rich grew richer, and the poor grew poorer and died from lack of sufficient money to pay for proper healthcare. Only those with a lot of money could afford health insurance. So, in time, the poor people came to resent Krampus and began to rebel. Some even went in search of what they called “Real Santa,” hoping to find comfort in the fact that if he returned, all would be well. No one ever found him. No one who went looking for him ever returned.
Santa impersonators popped up from time to time. As soon as they gained any popularity they were killed under mysterious circumstances. Usually poison, or a bullet to the brain. Sometimes they died by burying themselves in concrete. It varied. Which brings me to my current predicament.
I have been captured by a Santa impersonator and I’m currently strapped nude to a weird table with my legs up in some stirrups. I think it was one of those things women lie on when they go see their vagina doctor. Whatever it’s called. All I know for sure is that it is cold as fuck, and I need a blankie and some hot tomato soup. Some crackers would be nice. Or a couple grilled cheese. Oh, and my rod and tackle is dangling down between my legs. Awkward. I am waiting for him to come back from wherever the fuck he went, and I have no idea what’s going on. These impersonators are usually nice, but this asshole is a little naughty and aggressive. I think he is going to fuck me. I don’t really know.
It wasn’t long and he returned holding a shiny stainless steel object and sat down on a stool between my legs. When he began to rub the cold metal around my butthole, I got nervous. This fat bearded bitch was about to shove this thing up my ass!
“Now, just hold on a minute!” I shouted.
“Quiet,” Fake Santa said without looking up from what he was doing.
“What the fuck is that thing?” I asked as I tested my bonds.
I was strapped down so good I could only move my head around a little bit before I heard him speak again.
“It’s a rectal speculum, an anoscope if you want to be fancy about it.”
“I don’t want to be fancy or anything else! What are you doing?” I said.
“What does it look like, dummy? I’m about to shove this up your ass and spread you open as far as it will stretch.”
“Come on man, why?”
He ignored me and continued. My asshole burned and pain shot through my insides as he tried to push it inside me. It didn’t want to go in, so he spit on the end of it and began to rub it around my butthole.
“Ho, ho, ho!” He chuckled as he gave it a big shove, finally forcing the tip in.
He was really into the whole Santa thing.
He rotated it around and back and kept adding pressure. My asshole was on fire and being ripped in half as he slowly slid the device all the way up past my tight sphincter.
“Ho, ho, ho!” he bellowed again as I howled in pain from the anal invasion.
I clenched my jaw muscles and gritted my teeth so hard I thought I would break a couple. The pain grew steadily worse as the thing in my ass began to slowly open and stretch my turd hole open.
“Jesus! Why are you doing this, man? I didn’t do anything!” I cried out.
The stretching stopped and Fake Santa stood up. I almost laughed. He was dressed in a cheap old suit that stank of reindeer semen and whisky. Come on dude, wash that thing at least! He had even grown out a long, white beard that was streaked brown from lack of showering. He stepped in between my legs, still bound up in the stirrups, and put his knee against the speculum as he leaned over me and got close to my face. His breath stank of alcohol and fart and I stifled the urge to vomit. Jeez dude, pop a mint.
He stared at me for a while. I was sure he was going to fuck me. Or maybe I just wanted him too. I don’t really know. I looked into his eyes and gave my best pouty look. He seemed…sad. It almost made me feel bad like I had done something wrong. “Look, man. If you’re going to fuck me just get it over with and let me go. I’ve got a family you know,” I said.
“No, you listen. What? I’m not going to fuck you. Fucking pervert, I’m gonna let you go after, if you don’t die.”
“After what?” I asked.
My head hurt and I was sweating like crazy. I was sure I was about to get raped and murdered by Fake Santa.
“After I finish shoving things up your ass.”
It took me a few seconds to register what he said. “What? This is a joke, right?”
His brow furrowed and he raised his free hand to stroke his stanky beard. It seemed like an eternity before he spoke again. Lucky for me, the pain had subsided. It was weird having my asshole stretched open so far. It felt like you could shove a whole can of soda up there. Maybe some soup, or a footlong Subway sandwich. He stopped stroking his beard and his eyes teared up. Awkward.
“No, this is not a joke. I heard what you said about Christmas,” he said.
“What? I’ve never seen you before bro!” I replied in desperation.
“Come on John, don’t call me bro.”
My eyes widened. “How the fuck do you know my name?”
“You know, deep down, don’t you John. I see you when you’re sleeping. I know when you’re awake!” His voice got deeper and more menacing and his eyes began to glow red.
I almost started to believe this was the real Santa, returned from wherever he was.
“Are you the real Santa?” I asked and immediately felt stupid.
He ground his knee into the speculum and growled. “No, you idiot. I am not him. Fuck you are dumb. I was just fucking with you. Everyone knows he is missing.”
He eased up on the pressure and the speculum backed out a tiny bit. Fuck. It was starting to feel good. I hoped I didn’t get a boner. That would be embarrassing. Or would it? I tried talking to get my mind off the whole situation before I started begging him to ram his cock up my ass.
“So how did you know my name then?” I asked.
“Don’t you remember? Two weeks ago, in the alley behind the Two Pillars bar? Out by the dumpster? No? Well, I was out there trying to sleep on my cardboard mattress, and I heard you and your dumb friends yapping about Christmas. Fuck Christmas! You said and went on a rant about how much you hate it. That’s how I know your name. I don’t know how anyone could hate the holidays so much. That’s why I chose you.”
I felt bad, but I had no idea what he was talking about. “Look man, I don’t remember. I’m sure I was drunk, and I’m sorry if I made you mad or anything.” I tried to make it sound like I was extra sorry. I was sure he would let me go now. I hoped.

Fake Santa stood up, holding a roll of duct tape. He ripped a piece off and tried to put it over my lips, but I moved my head from side to side to get away from him. Frustrated, he balled up a fist and punched the side of my head. I got dizzy. My head was spinning. I stopped moving my head and he slapped the tape on my mouth and smiled.
“This isn’t about that. No, you are my guinea pig. I’m searching for Real Santa, you see. We need him to defeat Krampus so us poor people can get back to a decent life. I figure if I am a bad enough boy, he will come back and rescue you, you know? It makes sense. I don’t really want to, and believe me bud, I feel bad about it, but I’m going to torture you. I’m going to cut you. Make you bleed. First, though, I’m going to put some things in your ass. Like I said.” I raised my eyebrows. Hopefully, he was talking about his cock. He shook his head. “You will see, I brought a bag of toys.”
He reached down and I heard a zipper, then him rustling around. I was hoping it was an assortment of sex toys. That, I could handle. He lifted a small box out of the bag and showed it to me. It looked like one of those little boxes that hold matches. Not a sex toy I’ve ever seen. He raised it up and opened it ever so slightly to show me what was inside. All I could make out were little things crawling around. Some kind of insect. Oh Fuck! Real Santa, please save me! I’m going to need more than thoughts or prayers to get out of this, I think. God Dammit!
He smiled. A lot of his teeth were missing. The ones he had were yellow, nicotine-stained, and partially rotted. I hoped he wouldn’t try to kiss me. If I vomited, I might choke to death.
“Cockroaches,” Fake Santa said with glee, then went back down.
I tried to scream. I tried to move. All I could do was let it happen. Tears streamed down my face. I could feel them as they crawled inside and scurried around. I was totally having a bad day.
I felt little, sharp pains up inside my shame cave. They were biting me. Fake Santa reached into the bag and pulled out another matchbox. He didn’t bother showing it to me. He just opened it next to my bunghole and whatever was in it crawled inside. It seemed bigger this time. One of them bit me. It burned, and the pain was excruciating. I had never felt anything like it, like lightning shooting up my pooper all the way to my stomach. My body shook uncontrollably. I had to get away. I couldn’t handle it. I’m not good with pain. I fought against the leather straps with all I had. It seemed like the one over my right wrist loosened but I couldn’t be sure. I began to feel woozy. I looked up at him, eyes wide and pleading. He was still smiling, like the Cheshire Cat on meth.
“How do the fire ants feel? I could only get two, I hope that’s okay?”
I shook my head and screamed through the tape as best I could. The muffled sounds did nothing to help. He seemed to like it. By now I could feel some of the cockroaches crawling around outside of me. They were starting to crawl out. One went up my crack. It tickled. I almost giggled. I thought I was going to pass out. I wish I would.
He pulled out another box. This one was bigger. The size of a hand. Oh, help me, Real Santa! Please! He looked up in the air. I don’t know what he was looking at, it was just a ceiling. It wasn’t even that nice, and I’ve seen a lot of ceilings. This one was plain. His loud voice startled me.
“You hear me Real Santa, you son of a bitch. If you don’t come back right now, I’m going to put this tarantula up this guy’s ass. Then I’ll move onto a mouse, and then a snake! You better come save this poor bastard!”
Silence. Fake Santa shook his head. “So be it,” he whispered.
He held the box up near my poop chute and opened it. The spider crawled out onto my nutsack. I felt it crawl around, tickling my balls and taint. I felt like I wanted to die, on the other hand, the taint-tickling made me want to whack it. My dick was at half-mast. Fuck. I might be sick. I could feel the spider pick up a cockroach. Then it noticed the gaping stink chasm and touched the edge before cautiously crawling inside. My boner deflated. Oh no. Fuck me. My life is over now. I was done. If I somehow survived, this would be a difficult memory for the rest of my pathetic life. The spider inched inside my ass. It was going so slowly. Maybe it will eat all the cockroaches. Yeah, right, I couldn’t get that lucky. It’s probably going to eat me from the inside out.
I started thinking about what else he had in his bag as he leaned over to rummage around in it. There was a loud bang, followed by a crash. Someone kicked down the door. Fake Santa turned his head.
“What the fuck?” he yelled.
Krampus had burst through the door with a flourish. He stood with his hands on his hips and his chest puffed out.
“I have come to save you and look good doing it! I have an image to keep up with, you know!” His deep voice bellowed.
He sprang into action. His hand shot out so fast that by the time I registered what was happening Fake Santa’s chest had exploded as Krampus’s fist shot through it and sprayed blood all over my naughty bits. Some of it dripped into my open pooper. It felt weird, but the good thing was the tarantula crawled out and jumped down, as well as the other insects. Fake Santa’s body slumped to the floor and Krampus walked up to me and began loosening the anoscope until he could pull it out. My asshole was sore, slick with blood, and it didn’t close all the way. I hope it will in time. It had been stretched open for a while after all. He ripped the tape off my mouth, and I took a deep breath. Finally, it felt good to have that tape off. I looked up at my savior.
“Thank you, Krampus. You saved my life.”
“You’re welcome.”
I was waiting patiently for him to undo my straps and let me go but I noticed he was looking down at my bloody asshole, licking his lips. He pulled out his long and grotesque and erect penis. Fuck.
“Krampus, are you going to let me go?” I asked with a squeak, but I think I already knew the answer.
“Of course, of course. I’ll help you but first I’m going to take what I want. I will help you, but you help me first. That’s how it works, a win-win for both of us.”
As my savior grunted and groaned with his dick sawing in and out of my ass, I realized that with Real Santa gone, I would have to get used to the fact we would all be getting fucked by Krampus. Some figuratively, me literally. So, I resigned myself and tried to enjoy and make the best of it. At least I wasn’t going to die. We will all have to hope that someday a new gift-giver will arise and defeat Krampus and give us the life we deserve.
Maybe Real Santa will return.
We can hope.