Santa's Hot Christmas on Dinosaur Island

By Stix Hiscock

I've been a very naughty girl this year, and I think it's going to take more than my boyfriend Santa Claus to whip me into shape...

 

Don't get me wrong, I know I must seem like the luckiest girl on earth to be dating Santa Claus himself. We've been together for so many years now, and had so many amazing memories together.

 

But something feels different about him this Christmas. He seems so distant from me, so absorbed in his work like it's the only thing that matters.

 

I can't help but take it personally, and one night I decide to teach him a lesson by leaving the North Pole with one of his reindeer, after breaking up with him.

 

What I don't count on, though, is crash landing in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, and finding myself stranded on Small Town Dinosaur Island.

 

Thankfully I'm rescued by a kind and handsome tyrannosaurus rex, who goes by the name of Rexford Everyman.

 

There's an instant, burning attraction between the two of us, and I can't help but find myself falling fast for this t-rex stud.

 

What I never suspected, though, is that Santa has been keeping a huge secret from me. And when I discover the truth about who he really is, I realize my life might never be the same...

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stix Hiscock
• Release date: Dec 7, 2021
• ISBN: 9798223639411

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© Copyright 2021 by Stix Hiscock - All rights reserved.

In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved. 

Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher. 

Santa’s Hot Christmas on Small Town Dinosaur Island

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By: Stix Hiscock

Table of Contents

Chapter One - The Man with the Sack

Chapter Two - A Very Naughty Girl

Chapter Three - Half-Baked

Chapter Four - A Lost Claus

Chapter Five - Ginger Bred

Chapter Six - In the Arms of an Apex Predator

Chapter Seven - Yeti or Not

Chapter Eight - The Tale of the Christmas Cuck

Chapter Nine - The Fight Before Christmas

Chapter Ten - Jingleberry Spritz Shoots His Shot

Chapter Eleven - Chestnuts Roasting

Chapter Twelve - Stocking Stuffers

Epilogue - Polyamerry Christmas!

Chapter One - The Man with the Sack

Santa

Archibald Saunders, age 9- naughty.

Julie Nailard, age 12- nice.

Kristofferson Meat Cleaver Fitzpatrick, age 3- nice.

Mohamed Callaghan, age 27- nice.

Leanne Hughes, age 15- naughty.

Penelope Poundbottom, age 69- nice.

Jeroboam Danvers, age 32, wanted for war crimes by the International Criminal Court (ICC)-  presently undecided.

Nikki Sommers, age 5- naughty.

Katherine Onyango, age 8.1257924- nice.

Bobby Gene Thirkell, age 52- nice.

Donald O. O’ Donnell, age 14- nice.

Virginia Murdoch, age 7- naughty.

You might think being Santa Claus is all fun and games, like a lot of people do. Snowball fights, snarfing down milk and cookies, being loved and adored by children from around the globe, participating in  sweat drenched elf orgies every other week. And don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t trade my job for anything in the world. But here I was, just weeks before Christmas and sitting at my desk doubled over like some common office worker, an IRS accountant bent down over his papers and developing a lifelong debilitating back issue that his insurance would never cover to have fixed.

In short, I just wasn’t feeling the holiday spirit this year, despite being the one and only mascot for Christmas himself- Santa Claus.

Juniper Cornhole, age 9- naughty.

Rigby Carter, age 13- nice.

Marilyn Baumgarter, age 4- naughty.

I was tired of this holiday. These children. I was tired of being caught in the tangle of their lives. Judging their every action, and being forced to morally assess them as a whole based on snapshots of their lives. Never understanding their motivations. Their reasons for doing what they did. Although in some cases, that didn’t matter as much. In certain instances, so great was these children’s depravity that they couldn’t be anything but naughty. There was no forgiving the crimes they’d committed, and no way to atone for their reprehensible behavior.

The lives that were stolen. Entire lands laid bare. Souls extinguished.

And here was I, the sole arbiter of justice. Sitting perched atop the world, maintaining the fine line between good and evil that kept it all from going to hell in a Hanukkah stocking.

Eggbert Matsumoto, age 7- naughty.

Tommy Burns, age 13- nice.

Amy Savine, age 10- nice.

7.58 billion people. An unfathomable number, and only growing larger with every year. And every one of them must be held to account. Every one of them as they drain the earth of its resources, demanding more and more as it all goes to hell around them.

If only the lower classes of this world would cease their uncontrolled breeding, and end the spread of their inferior genes that have become such a blight upon the land. Then, perhaps, I could know some measure of peace.

Ummm... Excuse me... Mr. Claus, sir? I heard a high-pitched little pitch squeak into my ear.

I turned to see Jingleberry Spritz, one of my toy making elves, staring up at me with wide purple eyes.

I immediately delivered an open-handed slap to his face.

How dare you interrupt the master at his work?! I demanded.

Jingleberry Spritz rubbed at his face where the print of my glove was still fading from his abnormally bright pink skin.

I’m very sorry, my lord, he said, peering ashamedly down at his pointed toes. It’s just that... The elves on the work floor have been forced to start going to the bathroom in old egg nog bottles. We just can’t keep up with the quotas we’re being given, and we haven’t had a day off in ages! We’re giving strong consideration to unionizing, and I thought it was only fair to let you know.

You fool! I shouted, and grabbed Jingleberry Spritz by his collar, pulling him close. "Once a year! Once a year, I ask you to make some small sacrifice for me, in exchange for everything I’ve given you! This entire operation, which I’ve built from the ground up! Do you not understand what is at stake here, man? Your life, my life... All of it! Do you not see me here, working every bit as hard as you people, to try and deliver the miracle of Christmas to the world?"

I- yes, but- Jingleberry Spritz began to interject, but I slapped him in the face again for good measure.

We MUST sacrifice, so that the children of the world can know of holiday wonder! The holidays will be here any day now, and how dare we allow our own comfort to interfere with the fulfillment of our great and terrible purpose?!

Well, I... I suppose, sir, Jingleberry Spritz bashfully relented. But, sir... If nothing else do you think we could at least have some guardrails installed up around the Krampus pit? Because even that small measure would greatly improve the health and safety of-

Be gone with ye, foul Lilliputian! I shouted, and cunt punted him away from my desk and all the way back out through the door to my workshop. I turned back around, swearing under my breath, as I struggled to relocate my place on the naughty/list.

Let’s see, Herbert Hernandez- no wait, that’s not right. Isabella Harrington, age- oh, peppermint sticks, that isn’t right!

Before I could find my place again, I heard the door to the workshop open behind me again. Annoyed, and thinking it was Jingleberry Spritz again, I reached into the top drawer of my desk and pulled out my brass knuckle, ready to teach him a lesson.

But the instant I felt the delicate touch of those fingers against the center of my chest, and felt the warm breath blow against the back of my neck, I knew that my visitor was not in fact any of the elves.

How’s the list coming, Sugar Plum? she spoke into my ear, and for a moment I felt all tension leave my body.

I turned and looked up into her vivid green eyes, framed by the streaming red locks of her hair. Red and green, the colors of Christmas, I always thought. Such was the beauty of my incredible girlfriend Ginger, who I’d been fortunate enough to meet through www.fuck.com, and with whom I now lived in sin at my North Pole workshop.

All at once, I could feel the holiday spirit returning to me from her presence alone.

Oh hello Angel Dust, I said. It’s coming, I suppose. Every year it gets longer and longer.

Speaking of things that get longer and longer, said Ginger, biting her lower lip, I’m bored... What do you say you take a little break from that old list? You look so tense. I can help you get back into the Christmas spirit.

Her hands were on my shoulders, kneading the muscles like dough. I sighed, letting my eyes flutter shut as the tension