A Yiffmas Carol
This story is rated "Y" for Yiffy. Reader discretion is advised.
Jacob Marley was dead to begin with. The poor male died in bed due to natural causes at an untimely age, his face a picture of discontent at some sense of unfairness in his passing. Marley was known throughout the city by his two most prominent characteristics; his penny-pinching financing and his dislike of romance or any notion of love. In life, Marley was bitter old man, buying only the cheapest of things from food to clothing and enticing many lovers to his bed and sending them on their way, no matter how much they pleaded with him to stay. Now that he was dead, some people believed that there would never be a man quite like Marley again; these people, however, had obviously never heard of Marley's closest business partner and what he would loosely call his "friend", Ebenezer Scrooge.
Ebenezer Scrooge surpassed Marley in every way, shape, and form, the pinnacle of greed, lack of love, and above all, a great resentment of Christmas Day. Scrooge was a dark grey wolf with a scar over one eye, a big and powerful predator that could have gotten any tail he wanted, yet to many people's confusion he shoved away any who tried to get close with him; even Marley slept with a few people, but Scrooge managed to stay celibate for seven years, leading many furs to believe his backed up balls were the cause of his disgruntlement. After Marley's death, Scrooge became more of a zombie than before, always growling at others when they made a kind gesture to him, asked him how his day was, but it was nothing compared to his reaction when someone uttered the phrase, "Merry Christmas." Now, on the very eve of the day he hated most, Scrooge entered the small freezing office that once belonged to both Marley and himself; now, Scrooge's only company was that of his subordinate, Bob Cratchit. The white drusky looked up from his table, shivering in the cold office, waiting for his shift to be over as Scrooge came in, not saying a word as he went to his desk and checked some of his documents.
"I suppose you'll be wanting tomorrow off, Mister Cratchit," Scrooge muttered, not even bothering to look him in the eye, "Feels like you're stealing from me every year."
"It's just once a year, sir," Cratchit piped up, wringing his cold tired hands.
"That excuse is getting old, Cratchit," Scrooge sneered, placing his papers back on his desk. Just then the door to the office opened and in stepped a smoky blue feline with white pinstripes over his forehead and extending from the ends of the eyebrows past the temple and back over the head. Removing his gloves, the cat stepped pass Cratchit with a nod and a smile, making his way to Scrooge's desk.
"Hello Uncle Scrooge," the feline said happily, "Merry Christmas."
"Bah, humbug," Scrooge snorted, staring up at the cat, "I'm sure you came here for more than simply spouting that overused phrase, Fred."
"Actually yes," Fred replied, a bit downhearted at his uncle's response, "I came to invite you to a Christmas dinner with me and my fiancée."
"I won't be coming," Scrooge bluntly stated, "I have more important things to do than spend time with your future ex."
"Uncle, please," Fred pleaded, hands on the desk, "It would mean so much if you would just come this one time."
"Dear nephew," Scrooge growled, "I am far too busy with my work for something as frivolous as Christmas, now good day to you."
Crestfallen, Fred placed his gloves back on and headed towards the door. As he opened it, he turned to Bob, "Merry Christmas, Bob."
"Merry Christmas, Fred," Cratchit replied happily as Fred exited; Scrooge scowled at Cratchit, sending a shudder through the white drusky. Hours passed and both Scrooge and Cratchit left the office, walking off to their homes. In his house, Scrooge sat down by a small fire, a bowl of gruel in his lap as he simply stared into the blaze with a frown. Scrooge set aside his gruel on the small table beside when he heard a clanking noise from behind; cautiously the wolf turned around and let out a gasp of terror as a whitish green wolf floated before him. It was covered it white rags from head to toe, cash sticking out of some of his wrapping and pockets of a torn funeral jacket, held to his body by a lengthy metal chain that clung to him tightly, his eyes pupil-less and blank.
"Scrooge," the apparition wailed, "I was once your business partner, Jacob Marley, and I have come from beyond the grave to deliver a warning to you."
"M-Marley," Scrooge stammered, "What is this? Am I dreaming?" Marley's ghost then let out a shrieking wail, flailing with his chains making Scrooge duck to the floor. "Oh please, Marley," Scrooge pleaded, "Why do you torment me?"
"Be warned Scrooge, you have a chain like mine, but it is more of a living iron snake ready to crush you," Marley echoed, "But you have a chance to change; you will be haunted by three spirits this evening, each of them with a message. Heed them Scrooge, lest you suffer my fate!" With that Marley began to rise up off the floor, his head disappearing into the ceiling, his body following soon after.
"Wait, when will they come?" Scrooge called out. Just as he said that, the nearby clock tower clanged thunderously, the echo shaking the house. Startled, Scrooge ducked down, looking around frantically but nothing happened. A soft glow emanated from behind Scrooge, catching his attention and slowly turning around; a white vixen with golden blonde hair and pink eyes floated before him, a soft glow coming from her amazing naked body.
"I am the Ghost of Christmas Past," the vixen said in an angelic voice, "I have come to show you the path you took that brought you here." Scrooge was stunned by the heavenly apparition, standing up on his feet and just gazing at her, nodding numbly. "I wish to show you the moment that hurt you most," the ghost continued, "The exact event that made you could to both love and Christmas." The glow around the vixen started to brighten as she raised up her arms, blinding Scrooge as he covered his eyes; through his fingers, the wolf saw the light fade and cautiously opened his hands and made a loud gasp. Scrooge found himself in his old bedroom in the home he owned prior to his manor; in the bed lay a young dark grey wolf, staring into space as another wolf, a copper colored female, was redressing herself.
"I'm sorry," the female said gently, looking away from the male, "But I can't go on like this."
"But why," the male asked, "Haven't I done everything for you?"
"You're not the same, you have changed," the wolfess replied, now looking at him, "You used to be so generous and kind, but now you believe everyone is trying to cheat you."
"Is it so bad that I care about my finances?" the wolf huffed.
"But you replaced me with your money," the wolfess answered gently, now looking at the floor, "And that is why I must release you, Ebenezer Scrooge." Slowly without so much as a backward glance, the wolfess left the male alone, staring blankly at his bed sheets with a scowl. Scrooge looked upon the scene with great irritation, turning away from it.
"Show me no more," Scrooge growled.
"These are but shadows of the past," the ghost whispered, "You can't hide from them."
"I wish to leave," Scrooge reiterated.
"You must take a lesson from this, about how it affected your views on Christmas and love," the ghost stated.
"You want love," Scrooge growled, approaching the ghost, "Then I'll give you love." The wolf grabbed the apparition by the shoulder, not even phased that he could actually touch her; with a quick move, Scrooge hooked his free hand down and thrust a finger into her sex, catching her off guard and making her gasp sharply. Angrily, the wolf fingered her, feeling all around inside the spirit with little joy on his behalf; he didn't want pleasure, he just wanted to shut the spirit up. The spirit shuddered in his grip, eyes fluttering and legs trembling, apparently enjoying the treatment, emotionless and rough though it may be; as Scrooge thrust his finger inside her faster and faster, the ghost's body seemed to shimmer, almost like it was fading. Curiously, Scrooge rubbed the clit with his thumb; the ghost gasped and slowly vanished, not even climaxing on his hand when it left. Everything then went dark around Scrooge and he found himself back in his room; Scrooge did not know what to do, the wetness still lingering on his finger, that is until the bell tolled once more.
"Ho ho, looks like you gave Past the finger," a voice boomed behind him. Scrooge turned and saw a large brown wolf on a golden throne dressed in a green robe, smiling broadly at him. "Well hopefully you will have a better time with me; I am the Ghost of Christmas Present, here to show you what you are missing out on every holiday season. But first, you need to do something for me."
"And what is that?" Scrooge asked, still gawking at the Spirit's size. Smiling broadly, the Spirit opened up his robe, revealing a large throbbing member between his legs. Scrooge stared at it, again shocked by the size of the other wolf. "B-but, I can't take all of...that."
"No, but you can use your mouth," the Spirit replied, "And while you do that I'll show you what you're missing." After a long moment of silence, Scrooge walked slowly over to where the spirit sat, not needing to kneel down before him due to his size. Hesitantly, he reached out and grasped the middle of the shaft with one hand and cupped the massive balls in the other; reluctantly, Scrooge stuck out his tongue and lightly touched the flesh with it.
"Ha, you can do better," the Spirit said teasingly. Grimacing, Scrooge opened his maw and allowed the head of the great cock into his mouth, his tongue immediately tasting the salty flesh, nostrils flaring. "That's better," the Spirit sighed, relaxing in the chair, "You know, you really ought to do this more often, with either guys or girls; sex and love are wonderful things, you know." Scrooge, unable to talk as his tongue was pinned to the thick member, merely rolled his eyes at the Spirit, unconsciously playing with the large cream colored balls in an attempt to keep himself entertained. "It's true," the Spirit laughed, rubbing Scrooge's head and simultaneously pushing him down a bit on the erection, "Even those who are less fortunate than you manage to have the time of their lives."
The Spirit held out his hand and a small mirror appeared in it, its glistening silver almost as reflective as the mirror itself; the glass began to glow with a pale green light, and juts in a matter of seconds, Scrooge was staring into the home of Bob Cratchit, more specifically the bedroom. The white drusky was above the bed sheets, sweating away with a smile on his face as he thrust into his lovely wife, a black and white husky with long hair, panting and moaning feverishly as her husband rammed himself into her, both calling out their names and gasping for breath. Scrooge watched the two earnestly, spying the cum covered sheets and trying to calculate how many times in a row they must have done the nasty to get it so filthy as he continued to suckle the thick meat in his mouth with a bit more interest, his tongue swirling around it, not minding the taste anymore. The image on the mirror seemed to zoom in on the copulating pair, getting a good view of the drusky's impressive cock plunging into his wife's soaking pussy, balls slapping against he with wild abandon; the Spirit moaned quietly as Scrooge worked his arousal into his blow job, his hands rubbing the large orbs in his sac and polishing the lengthy shaft as the wolf sucked and licked the head as he would have enjoyed it. The couple suddenly moved erratically and moaned loud, fluids leaking out of their sexes as they panted hard and lied amongst one another, kissing sweetly when someone knocked on the door; quickly, they flung themselves under the covers and hid the cum stained blanket under the bed before allowing a tiny black kitsune inside, hobbling in with one crutch.
"Good morning mom and dad," the little kitsune, "Merry Christmas."
"And a very Merry Christmas to you, Tiny Tim," Mrs. Cratchit replied, "How are you today?"
"I feel great," Tim said happily, "I was even able to play with some of the kids outside."
"Bless my soul," Bob said, "The boy seems to be so healthy on Christmas Day."
Upon hearing this, Scrooge removed his mouth from the member and looked up at the Spirit. "Spirit, tell me," Scrooge said in a low voice, "This Tim seems quite ill; will he live?"
"I see a vacant seat at the family table and a crutch without an owner," the Spirit replied solemnly, "If the present is not altered; but what do you care, you never took interest when Bob told you about him in his first few days of working with you." Scrooge averted his eyes from the Spirit's stare, going back to suck on the cock as if to make up for his selfishness towards Cratchit. "However, Bob is not the only one who is celebrates in such a way."
The mirror's image changed and shifted until Scrooge was now peering into a living room full of ornate decorations, but this was not what made Scrooge's eyes widen; on the floor, his nephew Fred and his fiancée, a lovely tigress, on the carpeted floor with about five other people in the room with them. Fred was taking his wife sideways, his cock plunging in and out of her pussy as she mewled into the muff of a German Shepherd as it sucked off her male counterpart; a young rabbit was taking an older mouse wife in the missionary position, the woman sucking off a male mouse which was assumed to be her husband. Taken by the shocking seen, Scrooge was once again unconsciously doing a much better job at pleasing the spirit, mimicking how the mouse wife slurped over the cock and slapped the tongue to the tip, hand playing with the large balls as the Spirit began to squirm, face a picture of bliss. Scrooge felt as though he could feel all they were feeling, whether it was his nephew taking his wife as she licked another man's woman or the young rabbit who was allowed to fuck the mouse wife, his own erection growing and pointing out from his night robe; suddenly, with a loud moan, the Spirit came, a geyser of cum hitting the back of Scrooge's throat, causing the distracted wolf to gag and pull back, allowing the cum to launch into the air and land a foot or two away from them, making a large sticky pool of semen.
"Woof," the Spirit sighed immensely, "I was holding all that in for years. You did a good job and I hope you have taken a lesson from what you have seen, but now it is time for me to go."
"What," croaked Scrooge, rubbing his throat, "But what if I have more questions?"
"I'm sorry, Scrooge," the Spirit echoed as it faded away, "You must now face the final spirit." As the voice died away, the whole area went dark, no light was to be seen; Scrooge cowered in the darkness, a cold feeling creeping up his fur; Scrooge's bare paws felt a prickling sensation and he looked down to discover he was standing in the snowy grass, the sky above a whirlwind storm of grey. A dark shadow fell upon Scrooge from behind, the terrified wolf turning around to see a tall hooded figure standing before him, his face hidden in the darkness of its cloak hood.
"Are you the ghost of Christmas yet to come?" Scrooge asked, his chin quivering. The Spirit did not respond, nor did it even move. "Where are we, Spirit? What is it you wish to show me?" Scrooge asked, looking around for the first time; the wolf and spirit were in the middle of a massive, long forgotten graveyard, with dead plants and snow covering many of the tombstones. "This is a terrible place," Scrooge said aloud, "Please, why are we here?"
This time, the Spirit's arm lifted up and pointed behind Scrooge, the sleeve of the robe dangling over where its hand was. Scrooge turned and face the tiny tombstone and choked on a few tears as he read it; Timothy Cratchit, a loving son taken too early from his family. For the first time in years, Scrooge let out a single sob and his body shook all over; the spirit came up from behind and pointed to another tombstone, this one larger and even more poorly attended to than the rest and a new wave of fear gripped Scrooge's heart. Timidly, the wolf shuffled over to the icy tombstone, quivering as the wind started to pick up.
"Tell me Spirit," Scrooge called out over the wind, "Are these the shadows of what will be, or may be?" The Spirit said nothing, still pointing at the tombstone. His hand trembling, Scrooge touched the icy stone surface and, with great mental effort, wiped away the snow; there, engraved into the tombstone, was the name Ebenezer Scrooge.
"No," Scrooge cried out, "No please Spirit; tell me this doesn't have to happen!" The Spirit simply stood there, not acknowledging Scrooge in any way. In his sorrow, Scrooge through himself at the spirit's feet and gripped its cloak, sobbing like a small boy. "Please, don't let this happen to me!" Seeming to take offense, the Spirit pushed back Scrooge, a blue light blue glow coming from the inside of its cloak; from the sleeves of the cloak, thick translucent blue tentacles slid out and snaked over to the bewildered Scrooge. Two tentacles wrapped around his ankles tightly and started to drag him over, the wolf trying to use his hand to grab a hold of something, but another pair of tentacles quickly made their way to them and wrapped around his wrists; Scrooge was lifted up into the sky, high up above the graveyard, squirming in the spirit's grasp feebly, crying out for it to stop. A much larger tentacle rose up and kept a short distance from Scrooge, lining up to between his legs.
"Please Spirit," Scrooge cried, "Please let me go! I'll cherish Christmas forever! I'll stop being so greedy and careless! Please!" The large tentacle moved back slowly, pausing for a second as it started to change into a sharp point; then, with a scream of fear, the tentacle shot towards Scrooge at lightning speed.
Scrooge awoke from his bed with a scream, covered in sweat, his body aching. The shaken wolf looked all around him, gazing at his bedroom, none of the Spirits to be seen. "It was all a dream," Scrooge breathed to himself in disbelief before suddenly feeling a surge of energy course through him, "I'm still here!" With a sense of joy he had not had in many years, Scrooge kicked off his bed sheets and ran to the window; the snowy streets were empty, chimney's emitting smoke as family's sat down by the fireplaces of their homes to celebrate the holiday.
"It's Christmas Day, and I didn't miss it," Scrooge whooped, "The Spirit's did it all in one night; why not, they can do anything!" Leaning out of the open window, Scrooge spread his arms and shouted, "Merry Christmas!"
Bob Cratchit was late; Scrooge paced outside his office, scowling and checking his pocket watch when Cratchit finally entered the room, his head hung low and his sight cast down. Scrooge snarled and sat down at his desk, the unfortunate employee shuffling nervously to him.
"You're late," Scrooge growled.
"I'm terribly sorry sir," Cratchit murmured, "I was just so busy with Christmas yesterday and..."
"I have no time for your excuses," Scrooge snarled, standing up out of his chair and leaning towards the drusky, "You leave me with no choice, Mr. Cratchit." Cratchit froze in place, a cold chill running up his spine as he waited for the wolf to finish. "I am going...to raise your salary." Cratchit didn't say a single word, his face plastered with shock and confusion. Scrooge laughed and patted the drusky on the back, "That's right, a raise my friend; it's part of a promotion."
"P-promotion?" Cratchit managed to say.
"Why yes, I'm making you my new business partner," Scrooge said with a smile, "You get all the benefits to, like the best medical care there is; I understand your in need of a good physician."
"Sir, I don't know what to say," Cratchit said, "Thank you so much!"
"Not at all, my dear boy," Scrooge replied, "You have my assurance that Tiny Tim will be as healthy as horse."
"Oh thank you, thank you sir!" Cratchit shouted.
"Merry Christmas, Cratchit," Scrooge said with a smile.
Cast
Scrooge: Drakowolf
Jacob Marley: Dragon Knight
Bob Cratchit: Windthor Pryas
Nephew Fred: Kimo
Tiny Tim: Tamati
Past: Angel the Vampiric
Present: Carnifex264
Future: Orthna
Sorry this took so long; with the site down I couldn't see any of the guests' descriptions and I got sidetracked with a contest story that I did in the meantime. If any guests want some small changes, let me know. Merry Yiffmas and a Yiffy New Year.