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The Mindquake Before Christmas

By Goldeneye. Have a good one.

The creature in Bay 3 had another request. The first three times it had asked for the essence of Michael, Chao and James's living souls. The fourth time it had asked for them to kill themselves for its amusement. The fifth and sixth times, it had asked for the heart of a star. Now Chao returned, pale and drawn, and told the other two inhabitants of Research Station Thyma, a small collection of buildings deep in the isolated Arctic circle, that it had spoken again. In a language which carved its meaning into his mind like a broken chisel. And this time, it had asked if they could hang up a stocking for it.

“You must have misheard it."

“It was not possible," Chao told his flatly, “to “mishear" that. It spoke inside my brain, you moron. Some sort of telepathy. But it was like it was screaming. Not in pain, just… screaming. It's dying."

James scowled at his mug of coffee. “Maybe that's for the best."

“It's an intelligent creature!" Michael said angrily. He was the third member of the research team, and the junior. Michael was young than either of them, a slender man of Spanish-English descent. Green eyes and dark hair, and an aptitude for climatology which had somehow landed him this vaunted position, one hundred and sixty one miles from civilisation. The North Pole was a lonely place. “It can talk, it can think! It could be an actual alien! And you want to just let it die?"

“That's true," Chao said. willowy and weary with silver hair. He was almost twice Michael's age, but he still nursed a slight crush on his tall figure. “But Michael, this… thing… it's dangerous. Don't you remember what it was talking about before? We can't just assume it's friendly."

“If it is dangerous, maybe we need to get into its good books. We should be co-operating with it while we can."

James snorted. He was short, dark, and belligerently French. “Is this what we're doing now? Co-operating? With that? It wants… merde, we don't even know what it wants!"

“And this is how we find out. What were you proposing? Just wait til comms are up again with the rest of the world and hope they know what to do with it?"

“Yes, actually."

“I've got a stocking," Chao volunteered. James glared at him, and he shrugged. “I mean, if we're going to go ahead with it."

“Which we aren't," James growled. Michael sighed. This had been an argument for every minute of the three days since they had found it and brought it in.

“I think we should. If we're going to try to understand it we have to make some attempt to bridge the gap. And it's a stocking. What would it do with it?"

“That's exactly why I don't want to do it. We have no idea what it could do. And with this blizzard locking us out of comms channels, we're stuck alone with it. No-one even knows we found it yet."

“I don't know." Chao said, sitting down shakily. No surprise. All of them could remember the flickering bejewelled eyes. That was another layer of horribleness. They were completely cut off from the world. The snowy tundra surrounding the prefabricated buildings which they called home was filled with dancing snow and the howl of the wind, and no radio signals could get through the atmospheric disturbance. Nothing lived outside. Nothing could. When the creature fell out of the air and melted a crater the size of a house in the snow with its convulsions, it was the first new living thing who Michael had seen in three months. “We have to come to some kind of decision. We should call a vote."

James folded his arms.“I vote for not taking the risk."

“I vote for doing it," Michael said. “A stocking? On Christmas Eve? Come on. Maybe it's a Christian angel. Besides, if this thing is powerful, we should be nice to it."

That left Chao. The other two looked at him, and he swallowed, brushing a lock of gingery hair back from his forehead. Michael remembered something, despite his determination. What was that saying about curiosity?

“We're not saying yes to everything," he said carefully. “We'll treat it as a scientific experience. I agree with Michael, we have to make some way towards understanding this thing. And we don't want it to die, either."

There was a pause.

“Michael, you do it."

“W-what? Why me?"

“Because it's your idea," Chao snapped. “Now go do it before I change my mind."

***

Bay 3 was normally the hanger for the sleek form of the station's second snowmobile. A large door seperated it from the raging chill outside, but the air was still chilly, and Michael's breath smoked as he entered, bearing the garishly red stocking Chao had given him. The main room was separated by a metal grid, allowing him to look through at the only occupant. When they'd brought it in, it had been the size and rough shape of a dog, and it had looked like it was made of coloured smoke. Since then it had looked like a humanoid statue of purest sapphire, a leonine being with a horribly perfect replica of Michael's own face, a bird with feathers made of something beyond comprehension, and a dozen others.

Now it was in a smaller version the form it seemed to be trying to stay in, some sort of quadrupedal creature with feathers and fur, the size of a small pony. But its outline was flickering and vague, and he couldn't tell what species it was trying to be. It looked up as he entered, with eyes like lanterns. Such strange eyes it had. One deep purple and one bright, burning gold.

“Hello," it said softly. Its voice was smooth and deep and rich, but it reverberated oddly, as if its vocal chords were phasing in and out of existence. “We in red light darkness incinerates all weeping child shriek hunger burn solar boiling rage mine melt ** AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRGGGH!"**

It somersaulted into the air and tried to fly with half-formed wings, but its spine bent backwards mid flap and it landed back on the ground hard enough to crater the concrete. Michael watched with horrified fascination. It was like something out of a horror film. The creature seemed to be struggling to remain there.

But his presence seemed to calm it somehow, and so when it raised its head again, it looked a little more solid. It didn't sound quite so much like its own lungs were trying to eat it.

“Holy _fuck _this is... a bad one. One. Zero one one zero one zero one zero zero zero… fucking hell, sorry. I cannot… argh… I cannot stay focused long enough. Come closer."

Michael hesitated, then inched a few steps forwards. The creature clambered up the cage wall, taloned hands gripped the metal, pressing its feathery face against the grid. Being close helped, somehow. It seemed to breathe in his scent, or something else entirely, and when it fell back, it was a little more solid.

“Th… thanks. Wow. Michael." It tested the word, tasting it curiously as it spoke. He was certain he hadn't told it his name. “Mi-chael. Mi-chael-li-sio-gan-icaphalisotoriasesenvortasicoraxiosi… ugh. Sorry. How are you today?"

And now it was actually talking to him. And lucidly. And it knew his name, how did it know his name? “I-I… I'm... " _scared, confused, terrified. _“I'm... fine. Are you… are you getting better?"

“It gets worse before it gets better," the creature flexed vaguely bird-like forelimbs, raking its skin. “Unfortunately it also gets worse before it gets even worse. I can't believe this was on Christmas Eve. Garrrgh. I _like _Christmas."

It muttered something angrily, and Michael sensed a breakthrough. He proffered the stocking. “We got you a stocking. Will it... help you? Somehow?"

“Almost certainly not, but I am desperate here." The creature giggled. “Thank you very, very much. Just hang it up… yes. There. Well, this is wild. I must be desperate. Now we'll just have to see."

“See what?" Michael hesitated. “Do you… do you honestly think Father Christmas is going to come and visit?"

“The answer to that question is so complicated that explaining it would probably kill me right now." It giggled. “Besides, I'd get coal. But it's not important. What's important is that I'm able to hold a conversation at last. I can think enough to talk. Void, that's a relief. There's nothing so horrible as being non-sentient and being just intelligent enough to know how fucking dumb you are. Blindness. Cut off from the power to experience and understand everything." It glared angrily at the floor, fur-or-feathers fluffed up with annoyance.

“Is that what you... were?"

“Yes." The creature sat up. “You see, what I am is… a junkyard. I'm a composite soul, made up of trillions and trillions of tiny splintered pieces of other creatures' minds. And there's enough bits in there to make the greatest and most powerful consciousness you could imagine… except they don't actually fit together. I'm a self made Frankenstein's monster, Michael. An abomination against the idea of life. I've become very, very, very, very good at making myself sentient, but it's something I have to force myself to do. I keep myself sane 99.9% of the time, and when I am, oh… I am glorious."

A pause. The creature looked rather sheepish.

:The only problem... is the other .01%."

“You're… you're an alien, then? An actual alien? And is that what this is? The other 0.01%?"

“Alien, if you like. I'm not native to any world. I come from the place in-between." The creature grinned at him. It might have had a beak now, but it was still strange and wispy. “And this is… wow… this is the worst one I've had for a long time. I call them mindquakes. The structure of my sentience shifts too far, and everything collapses. Like a house of cards. I have to build myself from the ground up and stop myself from drifting apart and remember what I'm supposed to be, all at once." It sat against the grating, looking up at him. “It's… not pleasant."

“Wow." Michael squatted a little, almost tempted to pet its shifting, distorted flank. “That sounds… horrible."

“It's what I am." A tail slipped through the grating to tickle his ankle. It reminded him vaguely of a lion's tail, but silvery-blue instead, and so must softer and fluffier. “What I need is... nngh… is a framework. A thing to build my mind upon. I've been clinging to your souls for the past two days. Using your sanity as reference points to keep myself alive. If I hadn't slipped into the world next to you then… well."

“You're using our brains as… “reference points"?"

“Don't worry, it's not harmful to you. It's like an ivy plant climbing up a tree trunk. The tree's fine, the ivy just needs something strong and sane to cling to. It shivered. “The point is, just three people is barely enough when I'm this weak. I need something stronger. I need something greater. I need… you to go now, I think."

And just like that, first contact (first sane contact, at any rate) was over. “Oh," said Michael. “Um, okay. Thanks. Good… good luck, I suppose."

“Thank you for the stocking." It grinned at him. “It's Christmas night. Maybe the big man in the red suit will visit, this close to the North pole."

“Sure… wait." Michael hesitated. “You… you are joking, right?"

“Go." There was a sharper edge to the creature's voice. A longing edge. “Go. Leave me now. The dark. The light. The sun the feathers the air the scream of it on your skin to sear the soul I the deum natum the incarnate the oh fucking VOID ARGGHHH NO, NO, NO! I AM NOT TO BE NOTHING!" It twisted up against the grate, snarling viciously at itself, spitting words like molten bullets, beating itself against the floor. “AM NOT AM NOT AM AM AM I WILL BE LIFE. I WILL. I WILL I WILL ISKAAAAARRRGGHHHH!"

Michael left, hurriedly, and the creature clung to itself in the midst of its suffering, and looked with ravenous intent at the stocking. Slowly its screams silenced, and it breathed slowly, pouring itself into the red fabric, searching its essence, finding its soul.

It took a while.

***

Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house,

Not a creature was stirring, not eve-

“Michael, dear little Michael. Wake up."

Not a creature was stir-

“Wake up, Michael."

Not a crea-

“Oh, for Void's sake. MICHAEL."

Michael woke up. By fortune and a lucky game of cards, he had the biggest bedroom in the whole research station, but right now it seemed rather stuffed. A hot, exotic scent filled his nostrils, and the darkness seemed to be solid. He blinked groggily as a black outline shifted before him, sitting up in his bunk bed. “W… what?"

Something big moved in the dark. His bare feet were assaulted by something hot and wet and soft, which woke him up properly. “Hello. Oh, right. I forgot, you see with your eyes. Hold on."

The light clicked on. Which was odd, since it was nearly thirty feet away from Michael's bed, and the intruder was right next to him. But as he squinted in the blinding brightness, the answer was pretty obvious.

Splayed across the floor (and two of the other beds) was a monster, a beast the size of a small building. Even sat down on all fours, its head towered over him. Thick silvery feathers swathed it, and beneath that powerful muscles rippled, leonine and sleek. The creature was a gryphon. A real gryphon. A colossal avian forebody melding to a lion's hinds, wings like sails nestled huge and snug against its sides, and it looked at him atop a beak large enough to hold his entire body in it. It was an impossible vision, a myth made magnificent flesh. And that was almost enough to make him speechless.

What tipped the scale, and left him slack jawed and too stunned to even react, was what the creature was wearing.

Save for paws, claws, tail and that long elegant head, every inch of the beast's enormous body was clothed in robes of thick, scarlet velvet, trimmed with heavy clouds of fur of the purest white. A circus tent's worth of soft smoothness and a dozen tailors shops had gone into making the costume fit to the monster's massive form. It even had the hat, perched between long, swept back ears. It was so utterly bizarre that Michael couldn't even be scared of it.

“W-what," he said, again. “What. Who are… what?"

“Come on. Use that lovely mind I've been clinging to. You know who I am, Michael."

The eyes had it. Golden and violet, glowing and burning. Alien eyes. “The… the creature?"

“I'm enough of myself now for a name. Goldeneye, dear Michael. It's so lovely to see you." Now that it was clearer, he could tell it was male, or at least appeared to be. “It's just gone midnight. Merry Christmas."

“G… Goldeneye? But… you weren't this big before! And why are you… why are you dressed like that?"

Goldeneye giggled. “Isn't it pretty? Aren't I pretty? Yes, I was smaller. Weaker. But I've managed to recover enough of myself to manifest properly, and this is how I like to look normally. Remember, I manifest a physical form by the force of my own mind. I can change it as I please."

Michael sat up further, clutching his blanket protectively. “And… the… the Santa costume?"

“Costume. Heh. Now that's where it gets fun." The creature rolled onto his back, stretching his form until he touched both ends of the room at once. His stomach spilled out in the red jacket, plump and well-padded. “You see, I'm not the only collection of bits of minds in the world. It's like gravity: things pull together, and the bigger they are, the stronger the pull. Not many manage to become like me. But when millions of people all over the world believe in something, imagine it, think about it for about one whole month every year… it starts to coalesce and create itself around the network of their belief. It starts to live."

“No. No way." Michael sat on the edge of his bed, staring at him. “You're kidding."

“Clever little soul. Oh yes, that's what the stocking was for. It's a node for this worldwide network of belief, and if I pour myself into it, I can flood into the network. I can use the idea of Santa Claus to be my crutch and let me build myself up. I can become the idea, temporarily, and embody the thing." He flicked his ears proudly. “On this night, in this moment, at this time, Michael… I am Father... no. No, no, no. I am... Emperor Christmas."

“Emperor?" Michael said weakly, but despite his amazement he slid off the bed, taking a tentative step towards the colossal body before him. Goldeneye radiated heat like a large feathery furnace, even through the thick furs and robes. He felt warmer than he'd been in weeks. “Emperor Christmas?"

The gryphon winked. “Old habits. Now, the thing is that this position comes with… responsibilities. Being the incarnate spirit of Noel means that I am supposed to be very, very busy tonight. And if I'm going to use this thing to rebuild my entire consciousness, I'd better stay close to the ideal I'm supposed to be embodying. So I need to deliver several billion presents. And to do that, I need a helper."

Michael found himself speechless again.

The gryphon laughed, and for the first time, he stood up. He must have been more than twelve and a half feet tall. He had to hunch against the low ceiling. He filled the room. And every pound of that powerful, padded form turned now to Michael and bowed low, grinning, eyes sparkling with something which might just have been Christmas cheer.

“Shall we?"

***

He had a sleigh. There it was, waiting outside in the whistling wind, a monstrous, truck-sized juggernaut which outsized even its owner, red and gold and oddly purple here and there.. No reindeer, because apparently “this Santa wanted to pull it himself". And it flew, it really did. It flew. Michael clambered into the seat, still too stunned to speak, shivering despite his six layers of arctic clothing, and Goldeneye saddled himself up, and then with an acceleration which would have put ferraris into shame they exploded across the ice.

The gryphon ran like a hunting cat, a bursting sprint which turned the entire body into a huge spring and gave every leaping lope the force of an explosion. Michael squinted against the sky and clutched desperately to the rail, teeth juddering with every bound, and then suddenly they were flying. Goldeneye didn't even flap, he simply spread those wings the length of a street and glided up, up, above the blizzard, above the clouds, above the wind, into a world of pure silvery light.

The moon hung ahead of them, wind rustling softly. Not a creature was stirring. The world was silent. Michael drank it in like water, his eyes as wide open as he could get them. It was beautiful.

Goldeneye looked back, his tail sinuously winding itself around the rail and then around the human's wrists. “Sorry, hun, we can't admire the view all night."

“Can't we?" Michael grinned weakly. It occurred to him that he was putting his life in the hands of a self-proclaimed abomination. But it didn't seem to matter. Goldeneye was just so intensely, wildly passionate. His friendliness was a drug, his charm an elixir. He was glorious. “You're just… I-I mean, it's just so pretty…"

He flushed as he remembered that the gryphon could read minds. Goldeneye snickered. “Oh, little elf. No, we can't. There's work to do. Word of warning, though… I'm going to be dilating time a lot here, and souls like yours perceive it oddly. It's going to be fun."

This actually sounded rather less fun. Or possibly a lot more. Michael frowned. “What do you-"

And then.

One second. Take it, roll it out, squeeze it dry. Push yourselves in between the gaps. He was in a tiny village in the jungles of Peru, and Goldeneye was plucking wrapped presents from his hands and tossing them down the chimneys. He was flitting around the Empire state building as the gryphon banked towards a window, searching for the right gift. He was leaning surreptitiously against a wall in a house in Quebec, hiding with Goldeneye (somehow the size of a housecat) nestled in his arms, as a child went back to bed after a midnight peek to see if his presents had been delivered yet. He was doing all these and a thousand more and that was just one second.

And

another

second.

And

another. And an entire night. Without proper time in between them, the memories jostled in his head, and he felt adrift in a sea of strangeness. Was he Michael the climatologist? Michael the elf? Michael the helper? Who and where and_when_ was he? The one constant was the red-clad gryphon, the tireless gleeful provider of gifts. He lived an entire life in one night, and fell in love with the monster he spent it with.

And like that, it was over. They swept across the Arctic plains in dazzling sunlight, Michael sitting on the gryphon's broad back, gripping the tassel of his hat. The blizzard had finally passed, and the skies were clear and crisp. The peaceful plains spread out below, and Michael winced as his mind readjusted to only having one timeline.

“Not bad," Goldeneye purred, diving towards the nearly-buried form of the research station. “Not bad at all. I'm rather looking forward to seeing how they manage to explain this. I probably destabilised a few countries back then."

Michael hugged his colossal neck. “It was worth it."

“Oh, yes. It's always _worth it. I love Christmas. All that work, all that effort, all that love, for just one day of joy. One set of moments to savour." He alighted on the snow, as light as a feather, and slowly drew to a halt near the hangar. The bridle flowed off him like water, unbuckling itself as the beast stepped out, swaying his form happily. “And I feel_amazing. Better than ever. I think I actually grew some new personalities down in there." He chuckled. “Maybe I should take up this role permanently, you know. It's like a hot bath for my shattered soul. Every Christmas night."

Laughing, Michael tried to let himself off, and buried himself up to his knees in the snowdrift. “I like the sound of it. You'll be needing a helper, then, won't you?"

The gryphon smiled, his eyes gleaming. “Oh, yes. Of course. That's definitely going to be part of it."

They trudged towards the research centre together, until Michael suddenly stopped, squinting in the blinding whiteness of the snow as he tried to sort his memories. “Hang on," he said. “In all that… did we get some for Chao and James?"

Goldeneye raised an eyebrow.

“Presents, I mean. I know they're adults, but... they're my friends. And they did help you back then. Do you think we have time to leave them a few things by their beds? I don't mind if I don't get anything. Being with you is all the Christmas I need."

He was aware he was rambling, and flushing despite the cold. Goldeneye looked at him, his head tilted lazily. He seemed to be smiling at something. Finally, he spoke.

“I don't think we can, sorry. Because they're not in their beds. They're with us, in fact, they've been with us this whole time." He sat down on his haunches, that soft stomach spilling out between his legs, straining against the red and white clothing. “They're here."

Michael looked from him to the stomach, and slowly back to him. He must have misunderstood him. “I… I'm sorry, I don't follow you. What... do you… mean?"

Goldeneye smiled, playful and mischievous. “Clever little soul. I think you know. But by all means, let me tell you." He stood up again, posing proudly to show off the heavy softness. “I should be insulted, really. I'm not actually quite _as fat as this. Most of the time. No, dear little soul. When I managed to tap into the web, and start to reconstruct myself, I came to you and gave you this chance. But first, I did what I've been _burning to do since I fell apart. I went to your friends, snug in their own rooms, and I woke them up, and we talked a while, and we played a while, and then I swallowed them whole." He licked his beak, shuddering. “I was tempted to slurp them both down together, but two minds at once would be too much for my weakened state. No, I wanted to enjoy every inch of them all to myself. And I did. Slow squirming bulges, crying, begging, screaming. I didn't let you hear them, no, no. I packed them both away in the furnace-pit of my belly. And then, dear little soul, while they slowly churned and melted and padded out my newly-remade hips, I came for you."

In the space of two minutes, the bottom had dropped out of the world. Michael stood in the snow, staring at him. The sleigh twinkled in the distance. Goldeneye's enormous hat quivered as he smiled down at his friend, and his belly gurgled.

There had been a point where he'd tried to denied it, but the gryphon had just kept speaking, washing over his resistance. It was true. It was true. Goldeneye had done all of it.

He found himself too stunned to speak, again. The gryphon devoured his silent horror, padding towards him, almost strutting as he showed off his stomach. “Sorry, little soul, but I did warn you. I'm an abomination. You played your parts so very well, but in the end, the only gift I wanted for Christmas was your calorific value."

“W-why?" Michael managed to croak out a response at last. “Why? Why did you… why did you do this? Why did you be so friendly? W-why did you do all that, that gift-giving if you were doing this? Why did you… oh, oh my god… Chao… James… oh god…"

He sank to his knees, and Goldeneye laughed, soft and tender and cruel beyond words. “Because I needed you to help me build myself back up. But more importantly, because I exist to enjoy myself. It was fun to see you fall in love with me, little soul. It was fun to wing my way across the world and deliver joy to a billion people. And it was fun to stew Chao and James inside the sweltering pit of my guts every step of the way."

“You are a monster. You are. An utter, total, horrific monster."

“Yes. Told you." Goldeneye swayed his colossal form, tail slinking back and forth. “And I think I could have proposed to you tonight and you'd have said yes. What does that make you?"

“I… you… you…"

“That's right. Breakfast."

Michael gaped at him. “You - y-you don't - you don't mean-"

“You really think you aren't mine?" The monstrous predator took another step, and this time he was crouching low. A predator's stance. “Little Michael. I have been _fantasising _about swallowing you since you picked me out of the crater I made. I'm going to savour you until New Year's Day, probably. You're going down, little soul. Slowly. Softly. Smoothly. You're mine, and you're going down."

Finally, the paralysing horror crossed that fine line inside Michael's mind, and transmuted itself instead into pure and total terror. He almost felt relief as it flooded into him and he screamed, a high, wild cry, staggering around and sprinting for the sanctuary of the research station. He was young and fast, but the snow was fresh, and he had to extract his foot with every step, slowing him down. Goldeneye's multi-tonne bulk sank even deeper however, so maybe he had a chan-

Michael ran straight into the gryphon's velvet-clothed chest, yelped in surprise, and fell over into the snow. He hadn't even seen him move. He tried desperately to scramble out the drift as the gryphon sat down again, leisurely and controlled, and picked him up by the ankle. “Told you."

“No! Let me go! Let me go, you g-goddamn bastard!"

Goldeneye laughed, and dropped him seven feet facefirst into the snow. “As you wish. That's the only thing I'm giving you, dear little bellyfiller, so enjoy it." He purred softly as the human struggled to right himself, snatching at Michael's kicking legs one by one with delicate grace. One by one, off came the thick winter boots, the socks, the snow trousers, the underthermals. Like a fruit being peeled, Michael was stripped of his protection against the elements. He cried out in humiliation and rage, trying furiously to hold on to his clothes, but Goldeneye was a force of nature. By the time he managed to raise his head, he was naked from brow to toe, and the cold was a stinging slam to his entire body. Michael squeaked, hopping from foot to foot, hugging himself in a desperate attempt to preserve some modesty and warmth. He had never felt so suddenly cold.

“Wh-what are y-y-you d-d-d-doing?" he stammered, still trying to back away, teeth chattering. “I'll f-f-freeze to death like t-this! G-give them b-back!" But Goldeneye only tossed the garments aside and stepped forwards again. Oh god, he was drooling, thick rivulets of saliva dripping from his beak and melting straight through the snow below. The jewel-like eyes bored into Michael's skull.

“Don't worry," he said, his voice drenched in lust. “I'll keep you warm. Just come over here."

Michael didn't. He screamed again, and tried to make a run for it, and Goldeneye pounced him like a cat hunting a mouse. Snow flooded over him again, and he was starting to feel stiff and distant from the bone-chilling cold. He squirmed around in the drifts, staring up at the colossal beast. “P-please! C-come on, you can't do this, you can't! Please! I-I, I don't want, I don't w-want to-"

“I know." Goldeneye licked his beak again, looming over his prey. “Merry Christmas, little soul. All I want is your everything."

“PLEASE!"

But there was no response, because the gryphon's mouth was full. He had simply leant down and shoved it through the drift, scooping up several gallons of snow and Michael's feet all in one. The heat came slowly, soaking into him as the snow rapidly melted in the radiator heat. Michael whimpered in panic, trying to kick back, but behind the snow was solid slick steaming flesh, and nothing he did could hope to stop it from grasping on. He was caught.

Goldeneye never even broke eye contact with him as he slowly pressed his beak together and slurped the human further in. The sensations were incredible, and even more so after the freezing cold of before. Unbidden, his scream turned into a groan of relief as the cold drained away, and Goldeneye laughed around him, lapping over his knees.

See? This is my Christmas gift to you, little soul. A hot, intimate bath. And a well-earned place as pudge, where you'll never, ever, ever be cold again.

The words branded themselves into Michael's mind as if tattooed into his skull. Telepathy. He wailed in terror, clawing at the snow around him, as the hot, wet flesh oozed up his thighs. “HELP! SOMEONE, PLEASE! HELP ME! H-H-HELP ME!"

No-one for one hundred and sixty one miles, little soul. Just us. And soon… just _ me. _

Goldeneye swallowed, his throat rippling upwards in a devastating display of pure muscular power. In a single movement, Michael's rump, hips, cold-shrunken nethers and waist were all plunged into the gryphon's maw, and his feet and ankles vanished into the throat. He screamed again, first at the sudden shock of the pillowy, gooey heat, then at the tightness, then at the way that he could not budge the gluttonous gullet's grip so much as an inch. He had never in all his life felt such strength, and all of it turned against him.

“I-I… I don't want… G-goldeneye, please, we can work something out, please, please, n-no…"

Goldeneye only swallowed again, working his way up his prey's belly. The squelching flesh spread around Michael's feet and then up his legs, dragging him inside in a luxurious explosion of endless warmth. It felt so good, and yet so horrifying. He managed to squirm round onto his front, whining in discomfort as he ground his naked form against the gryphon's maw, and tried to find a handhold in the ground. Nothing. Just snow, and him, and the monster. The only sound was the constant lewd squelches and burblings of Goldeneye's gullet, shifting around him as he tasted him, and his own panicked breathing. The gryphon himself was still watching, calm and leisurely as he swallowed him whole. Panic broke over him like a flood.

“PLEASE! I S-SWEAR, I'LL DO ANYTHING, I WILL, PLEASE! I-I can, I can help you! I can serve you! Please, Goldeneye, I-I promise I'll… Oh, god, god, no, no! NO!"

Another wet gulp, and the snow fell away as Goldeneye licked him and lifted him up, away from the ground, arching his bulging, swollen neck towards the sky. Now gravity was against Michael, and there was nothing to cling onto. His rear plugged the entrance to the gryphon's throat for a moment, then it was squelched around. His stomach was squeezed so hard that he was forced to breathe out, making his frantic pleas even more erratic. Slowly, the soft, squishing edges of Goldeneye's beak entered his vision. He was inside now. Prey. Meat, like Chao and James. Fodder for this colossal monster. He whimpered, remembering the heavy bulge, and tried not to imagine how fat and weighty it would get with him packed in as well.

I suppose I could take a picture for you, Goldeneye moaned around him even as he spoke, lapping gluttonously at his neck and face, smothering him in flesh. Show the three of you how good you look on me. Of course, by the time you're properly added to me, you won't be there at all. Just me. _He sat down, stroking at the swollen bulge in his neck. _My soft curves, my magnificent bulk, my pudge-souls… my bellyslaves. All mine. You know - I'm talking to all three of you here - you know how good this feels? I built myself up using your minds as the foundations. I've literally designed my own mind to want to swallow you and you alone. And oh, you're worth it.

“W-what?" Michael said weakly. “What do you m-mean, all three of you?"

Hush. Wriggle. Squirm. Beg. It's not long now. One more. Just one more.

Another wet, cascading swallow, and his arms lost their tenuous grip on the edges of the beast's beak. Michael screamed in dismay as the gryphon's beak sealed closer to closed around his vision, barely able to see anything against that lapping tongue. Slowly, the wet, squishy embrace of the abyssal gullet nuzzled around his face, submerging him with dreadful finality. Beg? Sure. He obeyed with all his heart, not just out of fear, but out of a desperate desire to show obedience. “PLEASE! PLEASE, PLEASE, NO, DON'T, DON'T DO THIS! I'M B-BEGGING YOU! PLEASE! PLEAAASE! P… P-P… please..."

He trailed off, beginning to cry for the first time in years. Goldeneye held him, savouring his body, grinding his gullet against his limbs, tasting his tears. There was nothing to be said. He was going to die in the guts of a mythical creature dressed as Father Christmas, a hundred miles from anyone.

Don't think of it like that, Goldeneye purred. Think of it as dying in the most intimate way you can, with a murderer who will make you never, ever, ever leave him. You're warm forever now, little soul. Tell the others Merry Christmas.

“Goldeneye… p-please...“

Be mine.

Goldeneye swallowed as hard as he could, or at least as hard as he could without pulping the little human in a single muscular squeeze. He jerked his head forwards, bird-like, snapping his beak shut fully. His throat was distended absurdly, the squirming shape of its occupant crystal clear. But he was going down. The bulge oozed downwards, rippling peristalsis claiming it inch by slow, tortuous inch, and he tasted the human's flavour on his tongue and swallowed the saliva as well. Not a thing would escape.

Michael sank downwards, clawing futilely at the smooth throat around. He had never felt so claustrophobic. The entire world seemed to be nothing but this pitch-black, sweltering, squelching tunnel, and him sliding down it. He still screamed and begged, but now Goldeneye was silent. The symbolism was clear. Michael was person no longer. He was reborn.

He was dreading splashing down in the stomach amidst the liquefied remains of his friends, but if anything, the reality was worse. Rather than ooze feet-first into a pool of viscous fluids and chunks of meat, Michael felt his questing toes stretch into open air, and almost immediately hit something firm and fleshy. It was less pillowy-soft and squishable than Goldeneye's insides, but was certainly reacting, twisting as more of him was oozed into it. What on earth was it?

He found it almost two minutes later, after Goldeneye's gullet had had its fun, and he was packed into it properly, wedged tight between layers of flesh with fluids submerging almost every inch, gasping and choking for air. As his head popped free of the internal valve, Michael's ringing ears heard a terrible, familiar sound.

“M… Michael? Jesus, how the fuck can he fit more in here? It's so damn tight…"

“Mike… is that you? Did he get you too in the end?"

“James?" he croaked, crushed against a wall. “Chao? Oh my god… you're alive?"

“Fuck…" said James weakly. It sounded like he was on the other side of Chao, and equally constricted. “He was telling us, you know. Keeping us updated on everything you did. We tried, okay, we tried to make you hear. We were screaming at you. But n-nothing. This goddamn… ow… this monster... Mike, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."

It was delicious, wasn't it? _Goldeneye spoke to all three of them. _They did try so hard. And they couldn't even let their voices escape my guts. Utterly delicious. You're going to digest now, darlings.

The acids were beginning to tingle, the fluid thickening around Michael, the walls rippling over them and crushing their squirming, shifting, squelching forms more tightly together. Until New Year's Day, probably, he remembered. Oh, god.

“F-fuck you," James whispered, twitching miserably. “You monstrous cowardly freak."

Their prison shifted back and forth, and Michael realised the beast was swaying his hips as he walked, letting his bulging belly dance and swing between his legs.Sticks and stones may break my bones, but my acids will melt them. Merry Christmas, James, Chao… Michael. I have that arranged, actually. I have a very good Christmas lined up. Shame you've had to change your plans, but… mmmn. Void. You already feel amazing, and you'll be even better when you're properly mine. I'll be as soft and well-fed as if I were Santa himself. And of course, I am. Now, have a good last few days. Just be good and squirm once the acids bite.

***

Goldeneye took another few steps, just to feel his belly shake and swirl. He could have taken many, many more, but this, this squirming whining mass of flesh, hanging soft and plump between his legs, was enough to stuff him wonderfully. There really was nothing like sensations.

With a careful sigh, he uncoiled his soul from the web of belief it had been clinging to. The red robes dissipated on his body, leaving him silver-blue and sleek… as sleek as he could be with three souls squirming and churning in his gut. The sleigh vanished as well, no longer sustained by a controlling consciousness. All that would be left behind was an abandoned research station. He'd already wiped the logs - no need to spoil the surprise for future meals in this world.

And there would be. Goldeneye licked his beak, tasting the last dregs of Michael's sweet flavour. The human squirmed deep inside, and he belched discreetly, groaning at the release of pressure in his swollen gut. It was a good start to the day, and it would only get better.

Effortlessly, he slipped out of this world and headed for the one he sometimes called home. A desert empire, proud and resplendent, bound by the rule of its omnipotent Emperor. Him. Absently, he turned over his appointments in his mind as he swam through unreality. Iora wanted to go flying. Little Charlie needed his Christmas gift (whether he wanted it or not). That cute angel needed reminding of who he truly worshipped. Arkrel would need help getting presents for people - late, again. In the evening, he was seeing Sehria at last. Maybe he should check in on her brother first.

So many things, so many people. For a murderous hedonist with zero empathy, Goldeneye adored people. And Christmas was the time to spend with them.

He cradled his belly lovingly as he emerged back into the physical realm, appearing out of thin air in his personal quarters at his palace. His bed was freshly made up, his wreath was where he had left it when he felt himself beginning to fall apart. The three humans were fine, and still wriggling. Good. He was back in control of himself, and ready to take the world. Goldeneye made to go, and then he paused. He turned back, looking at the foot of the enormous bed. Dwarfed by it was a large, near-empty purple stocking.

The gryphon raised an eyebrow, pulling it open with one claw. Of course, the same as every other year. The only thing inside... was a single lump of coal.

He laughed softly to the empty room, stroking his bulging gut. “Heh. Fair enough. I deserved it this time. After all, why bother with gifts when you can just take?"

Goldeneye 2016.