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For festivities to commence, some must slave away at their passions, not allowed to relax. It is not a time for peace and tranquility but of blood, sweat, and tears, and in the time of feasting, the kitchen is the battlefield.

--

"Alright, Darlings, the Winter Festival is upon us!" Baker's sonorous voice spreads through the kitchen. "Make sure you are all doing the best you can because those orders for all those parties are coming in quickly!"

"Yes, chef!" comes the enthusiastic ring of each of his kitchen workers.

The newest addition to his crew, the spider boy in his new pink uniform, blinks. "But, what about you, mistress?"

Baker chuckles slightly. "Oh, I'll be the busiest of them all. You could fill a book with everything I'll be doing tonight," he giggles, patting his newest acquisition on the head. "Now then, be a good boy and make sure these orders go to the right person." He says this, shuffling a box of freshly baked goods into the many hands of his arachnoid companion.

Baker saunters off, humming to himself, disappearing into the back rooms of the bakery.

"And what exactly is mistress doing?" Collith repeats, primarily to himself.

"Baker's baked goods are the best in the business," Genevieve says, sticking her donut injector into one of many unfilled buns. She squeezes, filling the thing with the thick white cream, letting it ooze out of its newly opened hole.

"But the best are the ones he makes himself, and he has a waiting list as long as Anteronia Tower for his goods."

"It must taste great,' The spider comments.

Filling the next donut with the white creamy filling, Genevieve chuckles, "Oh, spider spider spider, you have no idea."

--

"You've been waiting all year for this one, right?" The baker chuckles, standing in the well-made bedroom. He steps back toward the bed, stroking his finger along the mattress, flicking his head over his shoulder, fluttering his eye. "That's fine. I've been planning a treat for you, well worth every copper piece you plunked into my tip jar."

"Get nice and comfortable," he continues, stepping closer, his stockinged feet padding on the carpet. He reaches for the top button of his pink jacket, unbuttoning it one button at a time.

"That's it, right there on your knees is nice. It's pleasantly perfect for what I have in store for you." He says this, leaving his jacket halfway unbuttoned, pulling it aside, and exposing before his guest his toned chest, frosted with edible glitter.

"There's a special treat in it for you, but I thought you could feast your eyes at first."

"Oh, hold on," he says, snatching his guest's hand. "No need to be so hasty. You need to enjoy your meal. You can't just dig into dessert, you know. You must admire the craftsmanship."

He bites his lip, continuing down his jacket, this time with one hand, the other holding tightly to his guest's wrist, thumb stroking. With each button, his visible eye fluctuates, and his lips quirked up in a smile, soon enough, getting down to the bottom of the long piece. As the last button is left, it becomes increasingly evident that what lies behind the thigh-length covering is nothing but his natural self, what with the peppering of more sprinkles down on his chiseled pelvis.

He lets go of his diner's hand, holding his hands out to the sides. "Go ahead, unwrap your present."

Fingers fumble on the button, and to that, Baker only chuckles, watching with his ever-present smirk.

It takes a few moments, but the guest finally gets it done, freeing the jacket, which Baker rolls off his shoulders, falling to the floor.

There, hanging between his legs is his chocolate cock. He reaches down, lifting the limp thing up, two fingers supporting it. "I modeled it quite lovingly because I know you enjoy it. I know how much you desire it, waiting all year for a taste. Well, guess what, darling?"

He presses his free fingers to his lips, blowing a kiss and winking at his guest. "You paid for it, so it's yours to do with as you please."

Shaking hands reach up, one resting on Baker's thigh and another wrapping fingers around the length.

Baker sits back on the bed, hands behind him, panting slightly, his eye half-lidded as he watches, his cock rising up, growing in its excitement. "Ah, ah, so eager, mm, dear... look at you go." He curls his toes against the carpet, biting his lip. "But y-you aren't just going to use your hand, are you?"

Soon, a warm mouth wraps soft lips around the shaft, bobbing along it, tongue flicking on the thing.

"There you go, honey," Baker says, reaching up and stroking his hand on the back of his customer's head. "This is just for you. This is your gift, commissioned for you, and there's nothing else in the world I love than to see someone so wonderfully serviced by, ah, my body."

--

Different people do different things to celebrate the holidays. For some, if it means working more to spread cheer, they will eagerly do that. But for others, it is a time of forced indenture to the powers that be, even while those powers have fun. But that is a story for another time, and there are oh-so-many more out there, ready to be read and spoken aloud.

Just remember you get what you pay for.