Stockings from Binky (Story)
Based on the image www.sofurry.com/page/319899/.
Santa Binky's three assistants find their stockings well stuffed with Christmas cheer, and it can't hurt to have a little fun with their meals before they eat, right?
Stockings from Binky
By Strega
Asante swam back to consciousness, fighting his way through smothering layers of dark. Something had happened...something bad. What was it?
Half asleep he made to roll out of bed, and could not. As his senses returned he realized something was wrong. No, everything was. He was hot, wrapped in something that vastly outweighed the light bedclothes he favored. A minty, mildly biting scent like nothing he'd encountered filled his nostrils. The taste was wrong; he tasted blood. Something had hit him-
That was it! Something big and red...and white?...had been in his bedroom. He'd rolled away from his mistress and reached for the gun he kept in the drawer. An enormous paw had come crashing down and all had gone black.
So; he'd been attacked. Probably kidnapped, for the ransom his bank could pay. Awake now, but with eyes still closed, he tried to determine his situation.
Wrapped in something hot from the toes to his shoulders; check. Subtly his shifted his hands to see if it was simply a blanket, or something more confining. That was when he found that his wrists were bound together, and his upper arms bound to his chest. He could make only motions as though to pray, and slight ones at that. His ankles, too, were bound, and he could not open his mouth either. His muzzle must be tied shut.
A whine attracted his attention. The sounds too were wrong, now that he noticed, Distant sound of bells, like soft music and nothing like the flutes and drums he knew. A moaning: wind? Yes, wind outside the room he was in...but closer, too. Someone was moaning. He didn't hear anyone moving, but someone was moaning and there was perhaps yet another person breathing noisily.
He opened his eyes and found that his mane had fallen across them. Without thinking he shook his head to clear them, and cursed, but there was no one there to see him move. At least he could see now, though that only made things more confusing.
He was in some sort of sack hung from a hook on the mantle of a huge fireplace. Thankfully it was not lit, though he could hear the wind whistling past the chimney. Another sack with its own occupant hung a few feet away. From the brownish yellow spiky fur and the shape of the ears he thought the occupant was a hyena. The sack was strange, with a wide white furry band at the top and a red L-shaped cloth continuation below that. In a moment of insight he realized it was a shoe, or some item of footwear. He and the hyena were hanging in what amounted to huge socks. There was writing - a fragment of a name? - embroidered in red on the hyena's sock, and on his as well, though he could not see the whole name in either case.
An ear flicked behind the hyena and he realized there was yet a third sack, with its occupant hanging there. This was the moaner, and it - he - struggled until a face came into view. It was a jackal, muzzle tied shut with green ribbon. The hyena's was similarly tied with red and, he realized, his own with a lighter green. He tried to open his mouth, but fragile as the ribbon appeared he was unable to break it or the similar ties around his wrist and chest.
"What...what is happening?" the jackal groaned and the hyena stirred. It shook his head and coughed.
"I don't know," the hyena said. "Something hit me..." The tight ribbon around his snout allowed him to speak - barely - while keeping him from opening his mouth more than a fraction of an inch.
"Something white," Asante mumbled, remembering, and gave his bonds another tug. "I woke up and something red and white was in my bedroom. It hit me before I could react."
That was not quite true. Gun or not he'd been ready to defend himself, but the thing had smashed him down as though he were a child. "Something very big."
"It was a bear," groaned the hyena, and spit out a tooth. "A huge bear."
"Bears do not get so big," the jackal said, and Asante thought of the sloth bear. Those did not get even as big as a big lion. Nor were they native to Somalia, or even Africa, but he'd seen one in a zoo. Hadn't he read about other, bigger bears?
"I think they do. The northern bear, the snow bear, they get very big. Much bigger than a lion," he said, since he tended to compare sizes to himself. Unbound and standing up he was six and a half feet tall, while the hyena would probably stand six and the jackal a foot less than that.
"What would a snow bear be doing in Tanzania?" the hyena said.
"You mean Kenya," the jackal replied and "No, Somalia," said Asante.
They were all silent for a moment. All three struggled to extricate themselves from the sacks, but the bindings on their limbs held them too still. The sacks swayed to and fro; Asante was tall enough to stand up, but not quite tall enough to free his sack from its hook, and the other two couldn't even get that far. As the hyena struggled his sack turned, though, and Asante read the name embroidered on it. Deirdra. Suddenly he realized what the sacks were.
"Stockings!", he growled, and the other two looked at him. "Have you heard of the Christmas saint, the one who gives gifts to children? They hang stockings with their names in them. We are in stockings!"
"Yours says Llewella," the hyena said, "And yours Florimel," to the jackal. The jackal just barked laughter.
"Ridiculous," the canid said. "Who believes in that myth?"
Asante pointed with his chin. "Look, the window over there: the white stuff on the outside? Snow, it's called. This place, the decorations. Look at the ring of leaves, they call that a wreath. All the furniture is green or red. Christmas colors. I can see part of a decorated tree through the door behind you. It's all Christmas decorations."
"You think we've been kidnapped by Saint Nicholas? You are a crazy lion."
"Of course not, but maybe by someone who -" Asante fell silent. He'd heard something.
"Someone who what," the jackal barked.
"Shhh!" But it was too late. A door opened, and a black-muzzled face looked in.
"I told you I heard something," a woman said, and a black-furred female in a skimpy pink outfit seemingly composed mostly of bows entered the room. She clapped her hands in joy when she saw the three of them hanging in their sacks. "Ooo, look what Santa left us!"
Two more women entered. The second was also black furred, but very different: her outfit was dark green and she was clearly a black leopard, or a species too similar to tell from that cat. The first female had some white patches, such as a white stripe down her muzzle, and a massive, softly furred tail of long black and white hairs. The third woman was white-furred, wore a lighter green outfit, and was some sort of canid. She was about the size of the jackal, perhaps half Asante's weight, while the other two were only slightly smaller than the hyena.
Each of the women went straight to one of the sacks, the big-tailed woman going to the hyena, the pale canid to him, and the black cat to the jackal. That made the big-tailed one, which he tentatively identified as a zorilla, 'Deirdre'. The pale canid must be Llewella. Asante stayed calm. At least he knew their names. Hopefully he could negotiate.
"What's going on, Llewella?" he purred, but was ignored. The white canid grabbed a tag hanging on his sack and red, as the other women did at the other stockings.
"Ooo, a bank C.E.O.! Santa knows just what I wanted!"
"I got a playground shooter!," the zorilla exclaimed. She was leaning forward until her nose almost touched the hyena's, balanced by her huge fluffy tail. There was something disturbingly intent about the sparkle in her eyes as she looked the hyena over.
"Mmm, crooked lawyer," the black cat female said. She'd lifted the smaller canid's sack from its hook and stepped away from the other two women. Her claws came out as she gripped the jackal's cheeks, and a wash of pink tongue swept over her chops as she pulled him up out of the stocking and toward her jaws.
"I'll sue!", the lawyer whined, and that was the last thing he ever said. The pantheress' mouth gaped in a jaw-cracking yawn into which she stuffed the jackal's head. Powerful clawed hands pulled him out of the stocking and further into her gullet, and with one mighty gulp she
swallowed him past the shoulders.
Asante watched in horror as she heaved herself upward jaws-first, steadying the jackal between her hands and using his weight against him. Gravity pulled him down as she moved, and in two quick thrusts of her head the canid was half consumed. With his arms bound to his chest by the green ribbon he couldn't resist effectively, and now they were pinned to his sides by her advancing jaws. He was almost all the way out of the stocking now, and the way things were going he'd be wrapped in something even less comfortable than the sack very soon.
Asante had heard of this sort of feeding, but typically it was practiced by pythons and crocodiles. He'd never seen a leopard or big cat swallow such large prey whole. He certainly couldn't do it.
A face suddenly blocked his view. It was the white-furred canid, who might have been a jackal herself but for the color and smaller ears. "Flora rushes things. It doesn't have to be that way with you."
Past her shoulder he saw the pantheress lean back, the jackal's legs kicking from her jaws. She'd swallowed him to the knees and the rest of him was sliding rapidly out of sight. His ankles were tied with that same green ribbon, and he despite his frantic squirming he could not save himself.
Asante tore his gaze from that horrible sight and looked his captor in the eye. "What do you mean?"
But he thought he knew. The zorilla (skunk, maybe? Her head shape was all wrong for any sort of cat and he could see a double white stripe on her back through the gaps in her skimpy outfit) was supporting herself with her hands on the hyena's knees. Though her fluffy tail helped counterbalance her, he still swayed back and forward in the stocking, and when his muzzle approached hers she yawned the same sort of jaw-cracking gape as the pantheress. Each time the hyena's muzzle threatened to disappear down her throat, and each time she let it pull back out and giggled. The hyena's snout was wet with her saliva and though he was slightly the larger, Asante thought that soon the hyena would take the same trip the jackal was taking. It'd be down a different throat, but the result would be the same.
There was a growl of pleasure, and the white canid turned to look. The pantheress straightened, jackal paws and tailtip protruding from the corners of her mouth. The paws gave a last desperate kick as she swallowed, then they were gone, now just a great swelling moving through the night-dark pelt of her throat.
Over the course of a few seconds the bulge in her belly grew. She had swallowed the jackal alive, and his twitching shape bulged her midsection until the pink skin began to show through the fur. At some point her belt had burst and her green outfit split up the middle, letting her distended belly spill out into her lap.
The pantheress worked her jaws to re-hinge them then fell back into a dish-shaped padded chair. Her tongue made an elaborate circuit of her chops before a long, gurgling belch oozed up out of her gullet. Already the struggle beneath her pelt was weakening.
"Thank you, Santa," the pantheress purred, and belched.
The canid's face was in front of his again. "There goes your friend. You could go the same way, you know." Playfully she yawned, her jaws creaking wide in a way that was becoming terribly familiar. He watched her gullet expand and pulse like a hungry thing as she leaned forward. With no particular effort she slipped her jaws around his head, and wet gulletskin slid up over his muzzle just as easily. His moment of shock passed and he yanked his head back so hard it slammed into the fireplace brickwork. As slowly as it opened her muzzle shut in a smile.
"You couldn't possibly swallow me. I'm twice your size."
She turned her head and his gaze followed hers. The hyena, all but helpless in his stocking, was trying to somehow push himself away from the skunkette. His efforts were complicated by the fact that her jaws were gradually working themselves over his shoulders, her hungry maw already having engulfed his head and neck. The skunk's green eyes were fixed on her meal with terrible intensity as bit by bit she pulled him from the stocking, freeing enough of him each time for her jaws to advance another inch. Asante would have said it was impossible, as the hyena was a third again her weight, but he also would have thought the pantheress unable to swallow the jackal. Ten feet away was proof that he'd been wrong about that. The pantheress noticed his glance and giggled, running her pawpads over the faintly twitching bulge of her meal.
"Your jackal and hyena friends are making my sisters a fine Christmas breakfast. Santa was good to us this year, yes indeed. Now the question is, what will you do to not be breakfast?"
"They weren't my friends. I don't even know them. What gives you the right to -" Asante quickly changed his tone as she rolled her eyes, but more importantly, worked her jaws back and forth to loosen the joints. He couldn't take the chance that she might indeed be able to swallow him, and even if she couldn't he was helpless if she decided to bite or claw him.
"I'll do anything you want."
"That's more like it." She gripped the white, furry part of his stocking and yanked. Showing more strength than he would have thought possible she got the stocking loose from the hook. That was all the effort she was willing to exert, though, and she let him flop heavily to the floor. As he lay there half stunned she tugged him out of the stocking. Now he could see that yes, his ankles and arms were tied with that same strong green ribbon.
Before he knew it he was lying on his back with the pale-furred woman straddling his chest. "Do you know what this is?" She indicated a cluster of shiny green leaves that served her as a belt buckle. Three red berries sat in the middle. Asante shook his head.
"I like where this is going," purred the pantheress, and shifted the great bulge of swallowed jackal so it didn't block her view. There was a strangled sound from the side and he turned his head to see the skunkette disgorging the half-swallowed hyena. Slicked-down fur appeared inch by inch until his sodden head popped out of her jaws. She grabbed the gasping, sobbing hyena and repeated Llewella's feat, heaving his stocking off the hook and tugging it from his body as he lay helpless in front of her.
"Good idea," gurgled the skunk, whose jaws had not yet reset after their serpentine gape. As she worked them to reattach the joints she grabbed the hyena's muzzle and forced him to look at Llewella. The white-furred female waited until the hyena's acid-reddened eyes opened; his head had been in the skunkette's stomach a minute before and he was very attentive.
"This is mistletoe," the white canid explained as she touched the belt buckle. "It's an old northern custom that when a man and woman meet under the mistletoe, he has to kiss her." With a sly smile she pulled up her skirt, which was divided into numerous segments each tipped with a jingling golden bell.
What she wanted was obvious as she knee-walked forward. She was, of course, wearing nothing under her skirt. When her thighs straddled his muzzle Asante opened his jaws as far as he could and began to lick.
The skunkette's bundle of mistletoe was fastened to the root of her tail, and she had to sit facing away from the hyena to show it to him. One clawed hand pulled her close-fitting garment out of the way as she sat on his face, and her head went back and her fangs showed as he, too began to lick.
"Nothing like a little Christmas cheer," the pantheress said with yet another belch. "Almost makes me wish I hadn't eaten my present. Almost." One black-furred hand cradled the bulge of swallowed jackal while the other stole down past her tail. She didn't have a man's tongue to please her, but her fingers-
He looked away as the hyena let out a muffled sound of distress. Even from here he could smell the musk of the skunkette; apparently the 'yena's tongue provoked her to release a bit of the nose-burning stink. He didn't like to think what it was like for his fellow captive. He didn't have that close-range stink to deal with, just a wetly fragrant pussy to which he applied his tongue. It wasn't the first time he'd licked out a woman and though his raspy tongue didn't seem to surprise her, it made her twitch and moan. He plied it with a will, guessing that how well he pleased her determined the odds of his ending up in a stomach afterward.
Past the white fox's tail - for he recognized her as that, now, an arctic fox - he watched the pantheress pleasure herself. One hand rubbed the bulge of digesting jackal while her other dug padded fingers into herself. With a woman wrapped around his muzzle and another fingering herself scant feet away it was impossible for a healthy male lion not to react. Of course he could only squirm helplessly and beat the floor with his tail, but still the stiffness developed.
The hyena, despite the stench, was well ahead of him. Asante glanced that way just as the skunkette straddled the scavenger's hips and impaled herself. Eight or so inches of stiff purple cock disappeared as she sat down facing away from him, a wicked grin wrinkling her muzzle. "I might have a use for you besides dinner after all," she said as she rocked forward and back. It was plain from the position that his cock had gone up her tailhole, something she did not seem to mind at all.
"Pay attention," his own rider said. His arousal had not escaped the arctic fox, whose padded hand cupped his balls as she pulled away from his tongue. She backed away from his muzzle, giving his sheath a stroke that ensued he unsheathed completely. A growl rumbled up out of Asante's shaggy chest as she, too, impaled herself. He was hung perhaps no better than the hyena, but he had something the scavenger did not: scratchy barbs on his tip. These brought an almost orgasmic leer to the fox's face the first time she lifted her hips; she'd not been surprised by his tongue, but was by his cock.
With a pantheress masturbating to one side and a yelping hyena being ridden by a skunkette on the other Asante grinned up at her. He almost ejaculated within the first thirty seconds, perfectly normal for a quick-but-many-times-mating lion but disappointing for most women. Only by focusing on everything but the sex did he slow things down. The texture of the skin of her nose, the grain in the wooden beams stretching across the ceiling, the piercings - currently empty - in her cup shaped ears.
By these means he lasted perhaps two minutes. It was a simultaneous groan from his left that sent him over the edge; the hyena with his eyes squeezed shut as he spent his seed, the skunkette, tail twitching and fangs showing as she joined him. Her fingers, too, were dug into her sex, pleasuring herself from the front as the hyena did the back. The skunkette leaned forward, then rolled toward Asante, her fluffy tail blocking his view as she dismounted.
He shouldn't have looked. It was too late to stop now, and he snarled out a close-muzzled roar as he came. Unlike the hyena he didn't bring his lover to simultaneous climax, and though it was as pleasant as ever he recognized that the fox's disappointed expression boded ill for him.
"I can do better if I could move more," he mumbled through the gag, and tugged at his bonds. The thin but strong ribbons barely let him bend his arms enough to touch her breasts. She just smiled.
"I can't do that. Why, a big strong lion like you could overpower all three of us, especially with Flora too full too fight." And too distracted; the pantheress was moaning, fingers dug in and eyes closed. "Santa Binky would be so cross."
"I thought it was Santa Nicholas," he said, pleased at least that she wasn't loosening her jaws. The skunkette nearby made an amused sound, and her tail pushed against his cheek. She was stretched out crossways to her hyena lover now. Sucking on him, maybe? He couldn't see past the tail.
"Santa isn't a person, it's a position," the arctic fox said. "Last year our Santa, Binky, ate the previous one - not knowing who and what it was he ate! - and became the new one. Before, the old Santa would punish the naughty by giving them only a lump of coal. Ours administers a harsher punishment." She glanced over at the pantheress, who had finally relaxed with her hands wrapped around a bulge that used to be a jackal lawyer.
"What did I do to deserve to be here? What did all of us do?" A foot - he couldn't tell if it was the hyena or the skunkette - kicked his shoulder, and the massive furry tail pressed against his side twitched. Hopefully whatever they were doing wouldn't produce an intensification of the already nose-biting reek.
"Well, I haven't read Flora's or Deirdra's cards, but here's yours." She plucked the square of paper from his now empty stocking. "Dear Llewella, merry Christmas! For you a banking C.E.O. Regal, isn't he? Such a fine mane to turn into a hairball, if it is your pleasure." She tilted her head as she read further. "My my, you took away a lot of people's farms, didn't you? Some very shady deals you made. Tsk."
"That was my bank. I'm just the president," he protested.
"That's not what it says here, and I trust Santa. Oh, here's the hyena's card!" This one was pink, to match the skunkette's outfit. "He was a gangster who shot up a neighborhood. He should be more careful who he shoots, Binky doesn't like it when kids get hurt. Bad things can happen to those who hurt them when Christmas rolls around."
Slowly her head turned, and he followed her gaze. He knew what he would see, having finally figured out what the skunkette was doing. She hadn't stopped at the hyena's waist this time; the scavenger's limp cock, still only half returned to its sheath, was vanishing into her distended maw as she stretched her jaws over his rump. His tail thrashed and his extended feet kicked Asante in the shoulder again. Tied up like a goat ready for the slaughter the hyena could not save himself, and a woman only three quarters his weight worked her jaws forward like a devouring serpent. Very soon now his legs would be gone, too.
"Well!", the vixen said. "That's a surprise." Her hand was around his cock, and despite the horror of the situation stiffness had come back into it.
"I am a lion, after all. Battle and loss is no stranger to us." He rolled his hips to the side, showing her what he wanted. Negotiation clearly wasn't going to work; only by pleasing her could he escape his own fate.
"What do you - oooh, good kitty," the vixen cooed, and slid herself off his hips. She spooned up against him, her rump to his belly, and even tied up it was easy to enter her. All it lacked was a proper nape bite, but he licked her scruff as he thrust his hips against hers. There was resistance each time he pulled out, his barbs dragging against her flesh, and each time that happened she yelped.
Unfortunately he was facing the skunkette, and as he thrust she grinned around the remains of the hyena. Bit by bit she consumed the spotty scavenger's calves, twitching each time the doomed man kicked. Already she was more swollen than the pantheress, whose belly had accommodated the smaller jackal with relative ease. With the hyena two-thirds swallowed the skunkette sported a bulge as large as the rest of her put together.
But she did not stop. When her lips slipped down over the hyena's clawed paws she bit down, getting a final grip in preparation for finishing her meal. For a moment the toes peeked out, then it was merely the claws, and finally with a great heaving gulp she swallowed him down. A massive bulge moved through her neckfur, clearly showing the shape of the swallowed feet, and then she was popping her jaws back into place as her outfit stretched to accommodate the vast bulge of her gut. The pink material did not split as the pantheress' had, but the lighter-colored belt dug in cruelly until she reached back and undid its bow.
"Looks impossible, doesn't it?" she said with a grin, and muffled a burp. "It will be your turn soon."
Still he was a lion, and no little thing like watching a fellow prisoner being swallowed whole could take the stiffness from his member. His only hope was to please the vixen, and he slammed his hips against her rump a dozen more times before it was too much. Growling, straining to open his jaws to give her a proper nape bite, he spent his seed in the smaller female. He was rewarded with a long shuddering moan; barbs and hard work had done the job, scruff bite or not.
When his tail stopped thumping the floor she pulled away, rolling to face him belly to belly. Asante was all too aware of the stare the skunkette and vixen gave him. They both expected the vixen to eat him. He could only hope she had other intentions. He'd done his best.
She was smiling, sated, and he smiled back. "I hope you enjoyed yourself," he purred, and tried to radiate seductiveness. With his majestic mane it came easily to him; charisma was second nature to a lion.
"Oh yes," the little vixen cooed. "You were wonderful, and it'd only be better if you weren't tied up. The things you could do for a fox, if you had more than a tongue and tied-up body to work with."
He smiled and nodded. "I'll be happy to please you again." He was going to continue with "Very soon, we lions are the champions of rapid recovery." but she interrupted him with a hand on each of his cheeks.
"Worry not," she smiled. "You'll please me again right now." And she yawned.
"Wait," he coughed out, but already her jaws fit themselves around his skull. With an easy forward push she engulfed his muzzle, and the impossible meal began. He tried to pull his muzzle back, but her throat took a sucking grip that pulled her along with it. When he could retreat no further she moved her grip to the shaggy mane of his shoulders and began to work herself over his head. When her nose reached the nape of his neck she gulped, and as much by pushing her muzzle forward as by the grip of her swallowing muscles she pushed his skull down into her gullet.
Her flesh was so stretched by her huge meal that pink showed through the walls of her gullet, but the obvious impossibility of what she was setting out to do did not dissuade her. Asante could only wriggle helplessly as she somehow stretched herself over and around his shoulders. Broad-shouldered like any lion that part of him was easy three times as wide as her neck, but bit by bit her fangs scraped forward as she fed. Already his nose had pushed into the stinking hell of her stomach; his muzzle felt like all that organ could contain, but he was certain now that despite the tightness inside her his entire body would soon fit down her throat to await digestion. Asante squirmed and kicked in terror.
At least he tried to kick. Just when it occurred to him to jackknife his body and kick her a smothering weight rolled atop his legs. From the long fur and the vague twitching from within the weight he knew it was the skunkette, who trapped his legs to the floor with the weight of the swallowed but still barely living hyena. Grunting and groaning he tried to struggle, to extract himself from the vixen's throat, but little by little she pushed herself forward, her throat muscles easing him inch by inch into her stomach. Another pair of hands gripped him as the pantheress helped hold him still.
Half an hour ago he had seen the black cat swallow the jackal with terrible ease. Fifteen minutes later the hyena had gone down the skunkette's throat, the mephit struggling in an ultimately successful effort to dispatch the larger male to her gut. Now it was his turn; her jaws and throat had flattened and wet down his mane, and the bulk of it, stinking with wet and stomach juices, crowded in against him as his neck was added to the contents of her belly. He was as large as two of the women together, but still the vixen's jaws advanced. Tied by the improbably strong ribbon and held by three women he couldn't stop her, and her jaws made their way to his waist.
If only he still had his claws! Belatedly he's realized that someone had clipped them while he was unconscious. Soon his hands would be in her throat, and if he still had his cruelly hooked bone knives he would show her he was anything but helpless. Instead, blunt-fingered and footed, he could only hope he was too large for her belly. It was a faint hope.
And now someone was sucking him. In the course of his his struggle the blood had once again flowed to his groin, and a muzzle wrapped itself around his cock. It could not be the vixen, and the jaws were too broad for the skunk. A rasp of sandpaper tongue confirmed it was the pantheress. He visualized her, cruelly amused, leaning out of her chair to pleasure him as the vixen's jaws approached his abdomen.
There was a sudden lurch of progress as the vixen and skunkette, working together, forced him to sit up. With gravity to help her the vixen simply slipped herself over him, like a wet slick sock pulled over a foot, and just that fast his belly was in her throat and cock protruded from the corner of her mouth. The muzzle wrapped around him clamped down, scratchy tongue rasping his underside, and Asante snarled helplessly as he ejaculated in the pantheress' mouth.
By the time he recovered his rump was gone into the vixen's throat. Rather unfairly the two women who'd already fed were pushing him into her maw. Fangs scraped over his thighs and slippery throatskin continued to slide over him like a fine satin jacket, while further in he began to curl up in her stomach. It was as elastic as he's feared, but just the same he was sure she could never have managed this meal on her own. Even tied up he could have stopped her. Even with three women working against him it was a mighty struggle...but it was a struggle he lost. Bit by bit his legs were consumed until his splay-toed paws, clipped claws fully extended, were stuffed into her jaws. He felt her clamp down, felt her tongue gather itself, and then with a last massive gulp it was over.
Somehow she had forced his entire body down her throat, and her elastic belly stretched thin as it struggled to contain him. Even now he could struggle and hurt her, if he were allowed the freedom. Once again he was not; three pairs of hands gripped the obscene bulge he made, and what little movements he could make the vixen answered by moving along with him. Asante snarled and squirmed, furious that his life should end in the belly of a little white-pelted female. How could such a small woman take such a meal? Surely her stomach could not handle such a vast lump of meat!
Then the hands gripping him pressed down, three voices giggled, and nearly all the air left in one long, high-pitched belch. Another, and the last of the air was done. In the wet darkness his eyes went wide, then glazed; there was the slow but growing gurgle all around his twitching body as the lengthy process of digestion began.
Santa Binky found them there shortly thereafter, curled together on the floor with their swollen bellies pressed together. Even the lion had gone down, just as he'd expected; Llewella liked her meals big and would not turn down such a rare treat as a great-maned lion. All the indigestible fur would ultimately be hacked back up in a stinking hairball. Smaller amounts of fur might make their way through, but after such meals as these all three of the women could be coughing up f. The rest would dissolve, even the bones, for Santa's helpers inherited a trace of his own powers. Just as their prey had gone down intact, even the bulky lion, so ultimately they would digest their heavy meals.
Gently he scooped them up up, one after the other. With their distended bellies he must be careful not to hurt them, especially Llewella. One by one he carried them into the common room between their various chambers. It was no strain; the polar bear Santa stood ten feet tall and outweighed his three assistants and their meals put together. The women had slept together after their meal, and they slept together still, only settled on the huge round bed they sometimes shared. He tugged a silken coverlet over them; with the fur stretched thin on their bellies they might get a chill.
As he turned to go the pantheress stirred. "Thank you, Santa," she said with a smile.
"Merry Christmas," Santa whispered so not to wake the others. "I hope you enjoyed your present."
"Very much," she whispered back, taloned hands rubbing the softening bulge of jackal. "How many did you have?"
"Two hundred and eight," the polar bear said, and poked a claw into his belly. "Lots of naughty people these year. I don't know that I will eat before next Christmas; I am full up."
It didn't show. Like all Santas, Binky could eat any amount on Christmas eve and never become more than amusingly plump. Previous holders of the position had subsisted on milk and cookies; the polar bear took a higher protein diet from the bottom end of his naughty list. Where the men and women he ate went until it was their turn he could not say, but eventually they would be digested.
Last year he'd only eaten a few, but he'd not had time to prepare the list. He'd become Santa only a few days before the holiday that season, after eating the jolly red-cheeked human who previously served in that position.
"Plenty more in my bag, too." He meant the gift bag, legendary for its ability to hold any number of presents. And, apparently, other things. "The missus only ate six, and she's stuffed."
"I fear I was greedy and swallowed my present in haste, Santa. The others were wiser and played with theirs before they ate."
Santa smiled as the pantheress stretched and spread her legs. All three of his assistants wore mistletoe. Flora wore two bunches, one on a garter belt and one on the tip of her tail. With that leg raised and her tail hovering over her belly, two bunches of the herb were inches above her groin.
'Merry Christmas, Binky,' Florimel said as the polar bear lowered his head. Her legs wrapped around his massive neck as his muzzle dipped between her thighs.
'Merry Christmas, Flora,' Binky said, and kissed her.