Holly's Jolly Christmas Carol - Holiday Gangbang

[SoftGameHunter]

Teaser: Holly wants to spread cheer and joy for the Christmas season, but times are tough. Her solution may keep her Christmas tree farm afloat, but not in keeping with the true spirit of Christmas. One snowy night, three ghosts appear to show her the error of her ways. Will she repent?
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The author of this story has read and accepted the rules for posting stories. They guarantee that the following story depicts none of the themes listed in the Forbidden Content section of the rules.

The following story is a work of fiction meant for entertainment purposes only. It depicts nonconsensual sexual acts between adults. It is in no way meant to be understood as an endorsement of nonconsensual sex in real life. But since my ass is legally covered, if you want to summon Christmas ghosts to come and wreck your Christmas-Eve slumber, have at it. Send me pics, please. Any similarities of the characters in the story to real people are purely coincidental, but to fictional dead people are 100% totally there. Yeah, I wrote this. Dickens can suck it if he doesn't approve.
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Title: Holly's Jolly Christmas Carol
Author: SoftGameHunter
Content Warnings: If you don't want warm memories of TV holiday specials ruined, what the hell are you doing on this site? Go away! Shoo!

Part of the Holiday Gangbang story contest
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Holly's Jolly Christmas Carol


Holly Merchant stood at the doorway of her bakery and Christmas tree farm, still counting the money in her head. Her farm, not really. It was the family farm, and her father and uncle technically owned it, but she managed it. She made it run. She saved it from the brink of bankruptcy. Eleven months out of the year, the Fir & Pie Bakery and Christmas Tree Farm sold premium baked goods on highway nine outside of Portland. Business was decent, but it struggled to reach the Christmas tree season when they opened up to minivan lumberjacks willing to hike their kids out into her twenty dense acres of evergreens and take their perfect tree. A few fright years almost doomed them until Holly took over management. The accounting and inventory suited her. Baking not so much. Customer service was something she hired family for.

“Hey, heading out!” She flinched. Cousin Henry was still there, and she thought he’d left. “How did we do today?”

“Fine. Just fine,” she replied. “Same as yesterday. Same as tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? On Christmas?” he asked. Christmas? Right, it was tomorrow. The tree sales were over and she’d forgotten entirely.

She shook her head. “Oh, no. Oops. Not tomorrow. Ha, obviously.” He nodded and she waited for him to go. He didn’t wait long.

“Okay, merry Christmas, Holly. Hey,” he continued as she flinched again. Seeing it coming made no difference. “So, have a Holly jolly Christmas!”

“Good one,” she said with a forced grin. But he was right to be jolly himself even if he was only paid hourly. They did great, hosting hordes of Paul Bunyans and sending many off with an extra pie. Henry walked out back, and his pickup rolled through the muddy parking area a minute later. It was wet all day, but the mercury was dropping fast. The rain could turn to snow. Or to sleet, freezing rain, or a ton of other lest festive weather patterns, some of which were technically a white Christmas. Oh well, she thought. She had a day off after all.

The farm would be hers soon enough. She was sure of that. She had enough money coming in on the side to buy out her dad and uncle and take it over once and for all. She got in her little car for the short drive home. The engine wouldn’t even be warm by the time she parked it. No wonder she averaged sixteen miles per gallon with a compact. But once at her little house, she settled in for a short evening and bed. Alone. Always alone.

As she sat by the electric fireplace, freshly showered and wrapped in her bathrobe and tattered reindeer fuzzy slippers, with her baguette and port wine cheese spread, she flipped through the streaming options. A Christmas Love Story. Holiday of Passion. Even a few age restricteds, like Ho Ho and more Ho. She frowned at that. Too male-centric, but whatever. She was experimental, not that the world would ever know it. She finally let it play some Disney slop and let herself stay up late. Nothing was going to get her off that recliner chair. She let it play. And play.

A bump woke her. The screen was paused between movies, waiting for her to move the mouse, and the clock said midnight. She smiled by force of will. “Merry Christmas,” she whispered. But then the bump came again. From behind her.

In an instant her heart fluttered and her face chilled. Or flushed. She couldn’t tell, but something was very wrong. Nothing in her little house should bump. Not frost heaves. Not blowing branches hitting the roof, and it wasn’t even windy out. She had no cats. No dogs. Nothing. Except she had something. “Is someone in the room with me?” she squeaked. Nothing. Except another bump. She reached for her cheese knife, pathetic as it was. A spoon would be better. Why did she have to get the pretentious little spreader instead of at least a real butter knife. Empty-handed, she stood up and looked behind her. Nothing.

There was nothing there. Just the flicker of the fake fire. She breathed a sigh of relief until it happened. A rattling, quiet at first but ramping up fast, coming from the coat closet right by the front door. She gasped, eyes flitting about seeking some kind of weapon. Someone was in there. The doorknob rattled. Then turned, a little at first, but soon it burst. Inward, and Holly screamed as the shadowy figure burst out with a cry and rattle. A being of such deathly countenance that… She had her arm up over her face, but stopped, looking closer.

“Carole!” she cried. Her best friend. Former. No falling out separated them. Carole was dead, seven years past. Except she wasn’t dead. She stood before Holly, naked. A noose wrapped itself too tightly around her neck. And Holly soon guessed, if she turned she would be wearing handcuffs. And she glowed in the dim room lighting. So, dead. “Oh, time to wake up.”

“You’re awake,” Carole said. “You’re a smart girl, Halls. This is my afterlife. I’m a ghost.”

“No, I don’t think so. I was eating cheese spread for supper after a long day. And I’m dehydrated. I’m certainly asleep.”

“Why do you doubt your senses?”

“Uh, I just told you that part. I’ve read Dickens, you know. Well, I saw the Muppet version.”

“Aaagggghhhhh!” Carole cried, stumbling up fast. Holly lashed out, punching her nose. It was, in truth, solid enough. “Ow!”

“Welcome to Earth! I’m a trope-savvy girl, Carole. And, heh, well, you’re dead. You died. You left me with no close friends and you died doing autoerotic asphyxiation by yourself. I would have joined you, you know!”

“I’m sorry! If it makes it better, you’re looking at my eternity here. Naked, handcuffed, and half choking. I’m a laughingstock to all the other ghosts.”

“At least you keep your slim figure forever,” Holly said. Carole glared for just a moment before she snorted and began laughing.

“Oh, I wish that mattered. But no. I’m a ghost, Holly. And yeah, this is a Christmas Carol. With Carole. Get it? Of course you do. But this is serious. I’m here to warn you.”

“Warn me? I love Christmas! I mean, I’m lonely and alone, okay, but that’s not a conscious choice. I wish everyone a merry Christmas. I run a Christmas tree farm, damn it! I’m not miserly or anything. I pay my employees fairly. And as for Henry, I forgot tomorrow is Christmas, okay? For like two seconds. I never begrudged him his day off!”

“Those are all good points, but no. Your general dedication to the spirit of the holiday isn’t at issue. Not exactly.”

“Then what?”

“Come on, Holly! Are you dense? It’s how you make money the rest of the year.”

“I, fuck you! I need to pay the bills.”

“Halls, sorry, but you’re getting visits by three ghosts tonight. Christmas Tree Past, Present, and Future. In that order. They need to convince you to change your ways and to stop defiling the true spirit of Christmas trees.”

“Yeah, fine. I’d rather do shots with you. Or we could watch movies together! I can open a wine bottle.”

“It’s not a negotiation. Oh, I wish I could stay longer. Try to keep an open mind. We both know you can be stubborn. You’re turning into a lonely cat lady without the cats.”

“That’s low, Carole. That hurts.”

“Good bye, Halls. Try to pay attention.” Carole stepped back, all the way back, and as she vanished into the wall she was gone. Holly stood there, staring. She even pinched her arm.

“Well fuck,” she said. Three ghosts? She wanted to sleep in, but not too late. But if she was up all night, well. “Fine. Goodnight.” She turned off the TV and the fireplace and shuffled up to bed. She switched the robe and slippers for flannel sheets and a comforter and crashed perchance not to dream if she could help it.

“Wake up!”

“Gaahhh!” Holly cried, as the blinding light seared her retinas. But as she squinted into the glow she perceived a girl there. But not as young as she expected. This one was like, twenty, and stacked. She made Holly’s chest look like a couple of bean bags by comparison. “Christmas Tree Past?”

“I am she,” the girl said. “And no need to be formal. Call me Past.”

“I thought you were supposed to be a young girl.”

“Dickens had his world, and you have yours. Besides, this form is more suitable for Christmas past, don’t you think?”

“I know what you’re going to say. And it has nothing to do with Christmas.”

“Okay, Christmas Tree Past. Don’t be fooled. I’m still thousands of years old and I’m magic. Get up and take my hand.”

“Fine.” Holly stood and took the offered hand in hers. Then her room shimmered out of existence around her. “Hey, wait! I’m naked!”

“No one can see or hear you except me.”

“Yeah, I see you’ve got white robes on! I’m cold! I can still feel.”

“Maybe that’s fitting then. Look.”

It was no longer cold outside, nor dark. They stood out at the eastern edge of the fenced land. Twenty acres of dense trees, planted at irregular intervals, concealed from outside view. Holly’s younger self, five years earlier, stood (fully clothed) with a group of men. They’d pulled some vans into the far edge of the farmland. The bakery was unaffected, and it was closed on Mondays anyway. No witnesses.

“So, this is Holly Merchant,” one loud Texan businessman bellowed. He stood six and half feet tall and had enjoyed many meals in his advancing life. Now he stood over Holly like a dinosaur. She watched and remembered. Hank Miller was his name. The bigwig. The money. She’d done business with his people, Geof and Benny, but never met him. Nor had she met the half dozen men dressed awkwardly in camo and holding paintball guns, waiting for the action to start.

“Now, you understand, Miss Merchant,” Benny said. “These girls are paid for this. This is a job. A very lucrative one. It’s how they get out of credit card debt.”

“You don’t need to sell me,” Holly said. She grinned. “Just buy me.”

“I like this filly’s style!” Hank boomed. “All business. No judgement.”

“Just don’t damage the trees,” she said. “That I’ll judge.” And Hank laughed louder. There was nothing more to negotiate. Holly already had the money. And now, the vans opened up and out poured the girls. Twenty of them. To six hunters. Or up to nine, if Hank and his minions joined in. Twenty naked women hopped out of the van, starkers. They didn’t even have shoes. Holly knew the land was clear of rocks. It should be a smooth run for them. What a mixed sad-sack selection they were. Maybe three looked happy to be there. The others wore expressions of shame, fear, sadness, whatever. Geof and Benny began to handcuff them.

“Tell me, little lady, what’s your real opinion of this?” Hank asked. “It ain’t very feminist now, is it? Hunting naked girls with paintball guns. And when we catch ‘em, well, happy endings all around, even if the girls like to moan and bitch about it.”

“As long as you don’t hurt the trees, I’m fine,” Holly said. “You all have fun. You’re consenting adults.”

“See!” present day Holly said. “I understood then and I understand now. They’re making money. It’s all consensual.”

“And is it really in the spirit of Christmas to sell trees to families, families with kids, trees that had naked women tied to them and sexually abused?” Past asked. “Isn’t that like selling used underwear in a fresh plastic wrap?”

Over at the group, Geof and Benny distributed the handcuff keys to the hunters. When they caught a girl, they could have their way. Holly got it just fine. The paintballs hurt. A lot. When a girl had enough, she could lie down and play dead. Then the fun really began. The men could also just grab them if they could. The girls all got paid the same, but some wouldn’t even have to put out. Six men for twenty girls? It was good odds. Six hours work on a May afternoon, and they could pay off their credit cards. Their car loan. Even whole student loans. And Holly picked up a cool fifty thousand with the promise of repeating it in two months.

There was no starter pistol. But when the whistle blew, the handcuffed women all fled into the farm. And that’s where it got interesting. The lot was roughly a square, and taking out the bakery buildings on the other side of the front fence, there was about a fifth of a mile to a side. Less than a thousand feet. But Christmas trees with proper fertilizer grew dense and tall. A few stubby ones were very young, but most were tall enough to not see over. Which meant, one’s line of sight in any direction could be quite limited. They didn’t plant in rows, but rather in a dithered splotch where every step was a new exploration. Kids loved it. Parents freaked when they lost track of them. And naked girls in handcuffs could run and hide, knowing there was no getting away except with luck.

Holly had stuck around to watch. Hank and co had not taken part. They ran the thing. But the paying men waited the allotted five minutes and took off into the place. “I don’t know who’s having more fun in there,” Holly had said.

“Oh? You thinkin’ maybe…”

“Ha, no sir. Not me. But those squeals, well, some of them sound a little too distressed, if you get my meaning.”

Hank laughed. “Oh, yes, you’ve got that right. Those girls are loving it.”

Holly went for a stroll that first time. She couldn’t be mistaken for one of the hunted girls. She knew the place blindfolded, and could casually come across different participants. She nearly came face-to-face with a buxom brunette, crouched and hiding. Up close, she didn’t seem to enjoy it. She briefly looked up to Holly, shaking, eyes glistening. She looked so out of place, naked white skin and flesh hunched down in grass and pine needles, trying to see or hear a man coming. Her very large tits wobbled as she shivered. It wasn’t even cold. But she kept moving, trying to avoid them. All around there were isolated squeals and screams punctuating the spring day. And soon enough, the cries of the captured female animal. It seemed rude to go look, but Holly could hear their lovemaking starting by the cries of ‘distress’.

“The trees were fine,” Holly said to Past. “Some of the men tied the girls between them, spread out on the ground. But they didn’t hurt anything. They didn’t defile the trees, just the women. Who were paid!”

“Prostitution is legal here?” Past asked.

“Are you the ghost of lawyers past? Everyone consented.” She paused. Standing there stark naked brought back some memories. “Including me. But you know that, don’t you?”

“Sure, I do,” Past said. “Let’s go visit brave, consenting Holly.”

The scene faded in and out. Now it was March, and quite a bit cooler. Two years had passed, almost. And Holly had added an extra clause to the rental.

“Now let me get this straight, Miss Merchant,” Hank boomed. They stood out at the far gate waiting for the vans to show up. “We’re renting this place for fifty grand from you so we can have rich assholes go shooting failed Playboy bunnies with paint guns and fuck them. For fifteen grand apiece. And you want me to pay you an extra fifteen grand, to join them?”

“Yeah, well, yeah,” Holly had said. She remembered it so well, the shame of having to ask to join. She was adult, female, attractive. And willing. It should have been a no fucking brainer.

“You aren’t exactly stacked like our girls,” he said. She’d taken off her coat, but still stood fully dressed as the man stared at her chest and pointed. “I wouldn’t kick you out of my bed for eating crackers or nothing, but look at you. Plain brown hair with a K-Mart barber’s cut. I’m assuming not a lot of muscle tone. You ain’t fat or nothing, but you sure ain’t special. Would you take your glasses off?”

“Sure I would,” she said.

“What you really aiming at, Miss Merchant? What’s in your head right now?”

“I want to have some wild fun,” she said. It was a practiced line.

“Wild fun. Lady, you’ve got the common sense of a frog in a frenchy restaurant. You ain’t hurting for money! I pay you a couple hundred grand a year, plus you got that sweet sweet bakery there. Those are good pies, by the way. Damn good pies. But you ain’t some desperate whore. And you ain’t no showgirl!”

“But I’ve got the keys to the gate,” she blurted out. Now he stared at her. She shrank back. The man could snap her in half. She wouldn’t dare cancel now. He’d already paid her. But next time.

“Alright. Sure, why not. The more the merrier. You go through with it, I’ll pay you the fifteen. God damn, girl, I don’t know what demon you’re working out of your system, but hot damn!”

“Weren’t you the shrewd negotiator?” Past asked.

“So what else have you got?” Holly asked. There was no reason to stick around.

“Let’s stick around,” Past said.

“Can we just keep this moving instead?”

“No. Let’s watch.”

The vans came. But Holly had already taken her clothes off and set them in her own car. Now she stood there, slightly blind, but she knew the farm well. She could avoid capture. Or ensure it! Geof and Benny looked at her funny, but Hank said a few words and that was it. They had a big crowd. The grey skies threatened to open up on them, and the grass was cold and wet on her feet, but Holly had to live! She’d been in such a funk since Carole’s death four years earlier. Dead by accidental hanging while slishing herself. Holly could do better. She would do better. An electric thrill went through her when the cold steel of the handcuffs wrapped around her wrists. Some of the women looked at her.

They knew. They believed it, that Holly didn’t belong. They were frantically trying to pay off a pimp or a drug dealer or whatever, but they still knew Holly was a fake. Each time was a different batch. None knew her, but they knew what she was. Not one of them. But when the whistle blew, they ran and scattered. It was a big batch this time. Twenty women, now twenty-one, and twelve men. She liked her odds. She’d give them a real chase. A real challenge. And if one of them happened to grab her, well.

She went down the middle. The north side had some denser patches to play hide for a while. And without the naked handcuffed women judging her, she could recapture some of her breathlessly anticipated exhilaration. The thrill. The tingling! She’d seen enough of these men. They were cretins, but clean, groomed cretins with hygiene and recent blood tests. Any one of them could have picked her up in a bar if she ever went. Now they were pursuing her! And they’re odds, she knew well, were good.

“Why don’t we just cut to the chase?” Holly snapped. Past shrugged.

Now hunted Holly had been scurrying through her trees for an hour. She was pretty damned chilled by then. And there were men coming. There was a chase! She could hear the paintball guns when they went off. And some screams when they hit. She’d been unharmed so far. But now she could hear the woman panting and running towards her. The blonde flew past Holly, but screamed a few seconds later, racing back. Two men, from two directions. Both came into sight at the same time, guns ready. The blonde had green splotches on her back and one leg already. Now the men grinned at their two trapped fillies. Holly’s heart pounded. Both raised their guns.

“I die!” the blonde cried, falling to the ground. Giving up. Holly should probably make them win her, she guessed. She stood, tensed, ready to run but vowing not to. The man chasing the blonde walked over to her and leaned over, grabbing her tit.

“Oh yeah, got you now girlie!” he shouted. “Got you good!”

She didn’t share his joy. Her jaw shook as her life choices flew before her eyes. But not Holly. She stared at the man with the gun as he looked her up and down. There was a grin. He liked what he saw. And, a chuckle. “Maybe later,” he said.

“I’m tired of running!” she blurted out. Holly watched Holly, wincing. She’d been so desperate not to believe what was so obvious. So fucking blatantly obvious only a moron wouldn’t see it coming.

He leveled his gun and blasted it. She screamed as the paint struck her breast. Her left tit. It really hurt. Then he shot again, aiming for her pussy but hitting her belly button. She cried out, stumbling. With her hands cuffed, she fell, not more than fifteen feet from the other couple as the man got his pants off and began stuffing his dick in the blonde.

“Can’t get enough shooting that load!” the man shooting her laughed. Then he walked away. There were other girls to hunt. Better ones.

“You didn’t get your fifteen grand, did you?” Past asked.

“No! I went back to the gate and told them to take my cuffs off. Begged them. That Geof fucker pretended to lose the key at first.” Suddenly they were there as past Holly began crying. Suddenly the key was there, and he uncuffed her. She jumped in her car and fled. They didn’t need her supervision. “So yeah, I was dumb and I learned something. But it didn’t put me off Christmas or trees! So what the fuck are we doing here?”

“Do you think that experience accounts for what happened next year?” Past asked. Holly said nothing. She had no control. They shifted again. Back to her house. A year later. Late summer. She was just chilling and watching some movies when the alarm sounded. She sat bolt upright. The alarm never sounded. Sometimes she wondered if it was even hooked up, but few people wanted to break into a fenced Christmas tree farm. Even for local teenagers looking for a shortcut, it wasn’t on the way to or from anything. She got in her car and hurried out there. No one should be inside the far gate. No one. Her dad and uncle had permission, of course. They owned it. But both were vacationing in New Zealand. So, no one.

Holly had burst in with fury and no sense. She hadn’t expected to see Hank and crew there. They’d locked the gate behind them, but she had her keys. How had they gotten in? She’d learned later they had a spare, someone obtained, probably copying hers when she was running around naked making a fool of herself. Now she realized she would have to change all her house locks. But there they were, and while Benny and Geof looked all worried, Hank stayed calm. And there were other men there. She soaked in the scene. The hunters included none of the regulars. Girls never repeated, but paying guests sure did. But not these men. And while their gear and attire was the same as ever, they were different. Scarier. And besides Benny and Geof, there were others.

The girls, though. They gave it away. No nervous smiles. No forced banter. They were terrified. There were only five of them, already handcuffed. Red, puffy faces from crying. Openly pleading. One spotted Holly and had tried to run over to her.

“Please!” the woman wept. “Please, don’t hurt me! Please!”

Holly was already out of her car. She’d stood there, transfixed. This wasn’t right. No one was supposed to be there. Hank hadn’t paid her. And now, now some of the new crew were standing between her and the exit. The now-closed gate.

“Miss Merchant. My, you’re an attentive little filly, ain’t you?” he said.

“What’s going on, Hank?” Holly demanded. “Who are these girls?”

He just leered down at her. Winked once. “You ain’t dumb,” he said.

“Yeah, well, I ain’t been paid!” she burst out. She wanted to scream something else. ‘I ain’t no kidnapper! I ain’t no human trafficker! I ain’t no killer!’ But the smart part of her brain stepped in. “You bring kidnapped girls to my farm? And you stiff me?”

“Goddamn, you’re a stone cold bitch! Alright. You got me.” He gestured and the whistle went off. The girls stood there, all but two of them. Confused. Paralyzed with terror.

“In five minutes, we’re coming for you cunts, like it or not!” Benny yelled. “Shoo! Shoo!”

“You’re introducing a major felony to my farm!” Holly hissed. Like she gave a shit. “I want double! A hundred grand, and don’t even think about doing this again!”

“You’re a good bluffer,” Past said as they watched. “You were ready to piss your pants, weren’t you?”

“I did. A little,” Holly said. “No one noticed.”

“So you took money, and you let five kidnapped women get hunted down and gang-raped. Some of them were tied between the trees, Holly. Is that in the spirit of Christmas to you?”

“They would have killed me if I tried to leave,” she said. “They had real guns.”

“Let’s take a look at what a hundred grand buys,” Past suggested.

“Let’s fuck you!” Holly snapped, but then they stood out in the farm. She remembered it. At the time she only got glimpses. The takedown was near the back gate. The woman, crying in Spanglish, was frantic to break free as four of the hunters beat her down and tied her four limbs to four trees. Oh how she screamed, yanking, straining. Her wrists bled as screamed turned to wails and cocks turned to invaders. The men were nice and calm, polite to each other. They flipped for priority and took their turns. But they weren’t nice when they got on the woman. Holly stood there, watching the old scene repeat. The second man took to the woman’s tits with gusto, grabbing and twisting them with both hands as he tried to fuck her spread body at the same time. Finally, he gave up on purple bloody nurples and just fucked her hard. Cries turned to sputters as he punched her face in. Now Holly could only stand there, fully nude herself, witnessing what she managed to not see before.

Now it was the second guy’s turn. She missed seeing how they picked the order. Maybe it was predetermined, or based on their pecking order from whatever outside fate and agency brought them together. They did seem to know each other. They didn’t need to work hard. The woman was tied to the ground. The man knelt between her spread legs and lowered himself into her. She tried to wriggle out, but he grabbed her belly and dug his thumbs into her abs as he pressed her to the grass. “Hold still, you spic cunt!” he snarled. Now his cock slid in all the way as she moaned in new pain.

“Are we just going to watch all four of these?” Holly asked. “Isn’t there a clock ticking towards dawn back in the real world? The one I’m sleeping in while I concoct this nightmare of bad cheese and holiday depression.”

“We don’t need a stroke-by-stroke,” Past said. “So you’re still pretending to not believe any of this? Do you feel the ground and air? Do you see and hear with the clarity beyond any dream?” With a wave of her hand, Past moved them forward. Only a short span, Holly recognized. She remembered the next part just fine.

“See? You’re being honest,” Holly said. “This part, I show my humanity. I show my spirit. I’m not a monster.”

“Indeed,” Past said as they watched. One of the girls, her cuffs removed from a past encounter but now running and sputtering with cum dripping out of her snatch, made it to the fence. Holly didn’t skimp on security. The fence was a tall one, lined with privacy screen, and hard to climb. But the woman tried anyway, clutching at the chain link as she scrambled up, but kept falling back. Of course, Holly could have been more careful, not letting an older pine with larger branches grow so tall next to it. She should have cleared that one to make room for some new growth. Now the woman tried to climb it, which was stupid given how densely packed the branches grew. But she scraped herself all the way up and then tried to crawl out on a branch, over the fence. She was twelve feet up. Her next intended move was a forever mystery, but her actual next move was to fall.

She screamed in agony as her foot, ankle, and body had different plans on the landing, and now she lay there shrieking on a torn up ankle. Broken? Twisted? Holly never knew, but it was thanks to her that the woman got help.

“See, there’s me,” she said. “I argued with Hank and convinced him to let me take her to a hospital. I did it in my car. Nothing connected her to him, and she didn’t know where she was so it couldn’t be traced back.

“But it could have been traced back to a Christmas tree farm with a fence,” Past said. Now they hovered over past Holly’s speeding car. The injured woman cried lying on the back seat. “Oh, no. Because you drove her four hours to a distant hospital and dumped her there.”

“Look, I got her medical attention, didn’t I? I wasn’t going to pay for it too, and I didn’t need the publicity for something I never agreed to. Never! She was fine. I guess. I’m fine with my past. You aren’t going to guilt me. I laid down the law with Hank. No more surprises, no more kidnappings. I defending the Christmas trees and the spirit they bring to families all over the Portland metro region. No one knows or cares if someone had sex near the tree they later bought. It’s not like it leaves a psychic imprint.”

“Said the woman who just witnessed the detailed psychic imprints in pornographic detail,” Past said. “Very well.” With a snap of her fingers, Holly returned to her real bed in her real bedroom. Her eyes flew open to stare at her very real ceiling. But then she saw it. And heard it. The alarm was going off at the farm!

“Shit!” she muttered. That was what woke her from the dream. Truth was, she felt some guilt about what happened to those girls that one time, but it was still not her fault. It wasn’t guilt, but rather empathy. But empathy doesn’t pay the bills. She jumped up.

Or she tried to. Her body didn’t move. Her eyes were open. She could see and hear. Sleep paralysis? She screamed silently, willing her body to move. But then a light appeared in the hallway outside her bedroom. A bright light, swirling, as she lay there immobilized by whatever. And footsteps. Someone was coming. Someone big!

A man. He could have been the literal Paul Bunyan but for no ax. Boots, jeans, flannel, the works. He stood hunched in her hallway, a massive bearded man, fully proportional but a good eight or nine feet tall. He ducked into her bedroom where his glowing body lit up her vision. “Ah, Holly Merchant. We meet. I am the first of my brothers to speak to you, though recent ones have noted your presence in the world.”

“Ghost of Christmas Tree Present, I presume?”

“Indeed. Get up, Holly!” With a single motion, he grabbed and tossed her many blankets off her body, leaving her naked in the chilly room under this giant of a man. Paralyzed. It could have been vastly more erotic or terrifying than it was, but all Holly could think about was her utter lack of restful sleep.

“I can’t move, big guy. Should I call you Present? You seem to have me at your mercy, not that I could resist you anyway.”

“Ah, the sleep,” he said. With a wave of his hand, her body returned to life.

“Thanks. Look, I’m game for some self-reflection, but the alarm is going off at the farm. Someone’s there that shouldn’t be. So if we can hold off for an hour or so…” She tried to walk past him to her closet, but he stood like a brick wall in her way.

“You’re a naughty girl, Holly. But I understand your concern. We shall go together.”

“Let me put clothes on!” She protested, but it was too late. A moment later they stood at the back gate. Someone had picked the lock and there were several vehicles there. But no people. The gate was closed again and locked, but the cars were inside where they didn’t belong.

She didn’t need Present to tell her the likely cause. The moon peaked through the thick and fast-moving clouds even as it continued to drizzle very cold. And now her bare skin felt it all. It couldn’t be more than thirty-two degrees out. The spotty moon gave the landscape some visibility, but the shaking beams of a dozen flashlights out in the far told the real story. Men were out there. Hooting and hollering. And worst, sending an extra creep chill down her spine, banging on metal rods.

“Come out, little bunny rabbit,” she heard one male voice call.

“This is happening, right now. In your Christmas tree farm,” Present said.

“And I’d stop it if I have my car and lights and phone. You know, if I wasn’t standing here naked! I assume no one can see or hear me?”

“Correct.”

“Then this is on you! I have a history of jumping in at personal risk to stop gang rapes. But I have to be awake for it!”

“This is the fruit of your labors, Holly. Go and watch. See what you’ve allowed.”

“Allowed nothing,” she grumbled but walked in. The grass was so cold and wet! And the breeze flowed like wet ice on her bare skin. Still, she entered. She knew the farm well. The distant flashlights and the silhouettes of trees were all she needed to get around. There was a woman out there, maybe several. But the men hunting seemed fixated on one. She left glowing Present behind as she tried to catch them.

And do what? The question lingered in her head. But she still had to find them first. Maybe then she’d gain some kind of Christmas Spirit magical laser eyes and take them out in a blaze of glory. But first, to find them. Or rather, the woman.

Once she was out there, alone, surrounded, she had to remind herself she was invisible. Not to the cold infrared, but to normal vision. The banging of metal rods now surrounded her, mixed with flares of bright flashlight. So far she’d avoided the men. On instinct. She was naked, helpless. What if Present lied? Naked, vulnerable women did not seek out packs of rapists in the middle of the night. She ran and stumbled about, as if they were hunting her. Only when she brushed against a tree for the tenth or fiftieth time did she realize, she was bending the branches. She was touching the water. She was really there. Even if invisible, her body was there and they could touch her. Grab her. If they didn’t freak out on her, they’d get their freak on her.

Finally, she heard the feminine cries huddled under a larger pine. In the pale light she could see the girl, young. College maybe. She lay wrapped around the trunk, trying to be invisible. “Any chance you can hear me?” Holly asked. No response. The men were closing in. It began to snow. The drops turned to flakes, just like that, in under a minute.

“Found her!” one man called out. But he was too far away. The clanging and light spears converged, but over twenty feet away. The girl obviously saw them. She saw her chance and slipped out to run.

“She’s getting away!” The girl screamed as a dozen hunting man-dogs chased her down, clanking and shining at her. Holly stood up in time to be bowled over. A man actually ran into her, sending her sprawling, and himself stumbling.

“What the fuck!” he said. He stopped, looking around. The others gave chase, but now Holly lay on the ground as this one man stood there, shining his light around, looking. Listening. She was tangibly there! This wasn’t like the story went! She was supposed to be able to walk through walls! Walls, damn it!

The breeze had stopped and the moon was gone. As his buddies receded, the two of them remained, with Holly shivering and trying not to make a sound. But then she remembered, she couldn’t be heard. Was it still true? She was invisible. The man’s flashlight shone right in her eyes while passing through her. She had to know.

“Boo,” she said. “Boo!”

Nothing. She couldn’t be seen or heard. But felt? Absolutely. She could get away. She rolled over to stand up, but in an instant the man’s light shined back on her. He was staring right at her, through her. She hadn’t made a sound. But then she saw it. Her cold heart skipped beats. The snow fell ever stronger, and when she rolled over she indented it. Footprints. Or whole body prints. The man stepped forward and tapped he foot out towards her, feeling the ground. And it reached her hip, tapping her flesh with his muddy boot toe.

“Holy shit!” he gasped, but he lunged. Forward. The man was too brave or too stupid, but he was grabbing for her. She screamed and bolted to her feet. Running away. “I see you! Who’s that?” he shouted, following. Now Holly was in a pickle. The light blinded her, and she couldn’t see in the dark worth a damn. But he followed her, tracking her tracks.

“You moron! I could be a polar bear for all you know!” He didn’t hear her. What was he chasing, though. Obviously not a polar bear. They weren’t bipeds with human toes. But she could be a man for all this guy knew. An invisible monster. Who would chase her? But if he got his hands on her…

She zigged. She zagged. She lost him but then lost herself in the dark. Then he regained her tracks and started over. Zigging and zagging again. She had no way out. She couldn’t navigate the farm literally blindfolded. And it was so cold out! Finally it happened. She turned but her feet kept going, sliding on the snowy ground, and her body hit one of the balsams, shaking the branches as they slid roughly over her body. She fell to the ground.

The man was on her. How dumb was he? How lucky? He dove for the spot where she lay and his hands grabbed at her flesh. One on her breast. All his hopes confirmed themselves at once. In seconds he’d felt out her body and found her neck. He dropped the flashlight and rods and pinned her down, on her back, with one of his hands at her neck and one verifying she had titties.

“Get off me!” she screamed. “Help me! Present! Ghost! Please!”

“So, a girl,” the man said, talking over her. Calmly and quietly. “What the hell was in that eggnog? Well, no matter. Invisible girl. Are you shy or can’t you make noise?” He felt behind him, to her belly. Her pussy. “Ooh. Merry Christmas to me. Jerry gets a special gift this year.” He looked over to where the men had clearly cornered the other girl. Her screams now carried, but they were hundreds of feet away. “The gift of no sloppy seconds. Alright, I know you’re there and I know I outweigh you, so stop slapping your little hands at me and pay attention.”

She was hitting him, but the pressure on her neck told her to listen. She stopped. “Good. Now, two taps for yes and one for no.” He stopped. Lost in thought. “Huh. I don’t really know what to ask you. Yes and no will take forever to figure out who or what you are. But you’re a girl. You’re naked. And I came here to rape someone. Is this Hank’s doing? Whatever.” He squeezed her throat harder. Holly gasped until she couldn’t. He held his over hand over her mouth. “Okay, here's one. Are you going to be a good girl and let this happen?”

Two taps. She was screaming for air and staring up through teary eyes at the half darkness-cloaked man lit only from behind and one side by his dropped flashlight. Her cries went nowhere. Two taps. She weakly flung her hand at his arm. Twice.

She sucked air in as he relented. “You have me at a disadvantage,” he said. A disadvantage? He actually said that! “So here’s how it works. Real simple. One hand stays on your neck, girl. I’m pulling my pants down. I’m sticking my cock in the center of your world. I’m cumming in you, so you better have your own protection. Then I’m leaving. Got it? Two taps for yes.”

She tapped twice. He was twice her size. She couldn’t run, couldn’t fight, couldn’t hope for better. Christmas Tree Present took her out here to be raped. To teach her a lesson, presumably. If this was even real. But it was real. She lay there on the cold wet snow under this man. And indeed, he held her down roughly by her neck as he got his belt unfastened and pants down. In a moment she felt his stiff cock sliding against her pussy. If only she could kick. Or run! He couldn’t catch her with his pants down, especially if he was rolling around in agony. But the agony was Holly’s. He scooped up some snow off the ground and pressed it to her cunt, jamming it in. She cried out to herself alone. “Best lube I’ve got, bitch, so you better start oiling up if you want to endure this.”

“No! Please!” she sobbed. He pressed. She wasn’t slick, but she was at least literally wet. He had to really push. The half-angled flashlight beam hitting his face from the side showed his own discomfort, but he was determined. Holly broke down in tears. She didn’t want it like this. When she offered herself, they said no! Now this fucker was raping her sight-unseen!

The glow behind her clenched-shut eyelids pulled her out of her pity-party as the man slogged at her, in out, in out, in out. She opened them to see the blurred giant of a man standing over them. His glow lit up the farm, but only for her. The man on her didn’t even notice. “Please, this isn’t right!” she sobbed. “How can he do this? How!”

“The past is an echo, Holly. And the future is a vision. But the present is real and it is now. That woman over yonder is suffering a dozen times what you are, and you made it happen.”

“I did not! Ow!” She couldn’t talk. Her man was brutal, choking and fucking her with wild abandon. He clenched his grip, cutting her off.

“I can feel your throat, bitch! I can feel you screaming. Man, I am so high! What the fuck was in that eggnog?”

‘You said that already!’ she wanted to scream. He wouldn’t have heard her, but no noise came. No air flowed. Holly’s lungs burned and sucked at atmosphere. He was fucking her. Harder. Faster. Real fast. He had to be cumming. Dimly there was cum in her belly. Hot. Gross. His. But her vision swirled as she passed out cold.

She stayed cold. When she regained consciousness she could pray to be in her warm bed, but she lay in the cold snow of the farm. Present stood over her, bathing her in cold light, but the man was gone. Rejoined his buddies? She felt at her neck. Tender. Bruised. Did he try to strangle her?

“You can’t die here,” Present said, like he was reading her thoughts. He probably was doing just that. “Yes, I’m the ghost of Christmas Tree Present. I and my cousins know your thoughts, Holly Merchant. Better than you do. Come. Get up. We’re almost done.”

He extended her his arm and she let him help her to her feet. Now they walked, towards the screaming. Holly’s guts twisted as they approached. The woman they had was screaming a storm, plaintive wails of agony and horror. The beams of a dozen flashlights lit up the horrific scene. She was tied, standing, sort of. Her arms and legs were tied between two of her taller trees and she hung limp by her wrists. They’d beaten her. Puffy lips and cheeks topped with bruising matched her body décor. Cum ran freely down her thighs from her crotch, front and back. But now they’d ripped branches off some of the trees and were thrashing her naked flesh with them. She gasped. So, it was clear now. The trees had been harmed.

“Ghost, please! Return me to the real present! Let me stop this!”

“You’d fight a dozen men?” It was true, and a hopeless effort. Her rapist was there with the rest, saying nothing. No one noticed his pants were already muddy. Any one of them could beat her down, rape the shit out of her, and kill her with his bare hands. Call the cops? And report she saw in a dream that a woman was being gang raped at her Christmas tree farm? Now one of them stood behind her, lifting her up. His buddies helped with that, hoisting her by her arms so the man could press his cock to her ass. Holly’s view was from the front, but it was clear enough. Awkward as fuck, it seemed, but her eyes and cries confirmed she had a cock in her ass and she didn’t want it there.

“Watch where you swing that!” the rapist snapped as one of them tried thrashing her front side with a pine branch.

“Please, no more,” Holly said. “What else could there possibly be?”

“Only what is to come,” Present said. He snapped his fingers, and again Holly found herself lying in bed. No, not in bed. On the bed. She was not paralyzed this time. She stumbled as she rose, sore? She hurried to the bathroom and turned on the lights. Her neck gave it away first. Bruised. She whimpered and looked down.

With a finger, she felt inside her pussy. And there it was. Spunk. Working its way out as she stood. And some already on her legs. It happened. It really happened to her. She looked back up, at her reflection. The scream came as her brain processed it. She wasn’t alone, and the ghastly dark robed figure of death stood behind her.

She spun around and backed away, tripping and falling through her shower curtain into the tub. But the apparition just stood there. Of course. She struggled to her feet. “Ghost of Christmas Tree Future?” she asked. A slight nod confirmed it. “You’re the one that speaks not.” Speaks not? Was she channeling snooty literature now?

He, it, reached out a finger to her. “I’ll go with you. But I’m convinced,” she said. “I need to do something. I can’t let that woman out there suffer for my farm.” She touched the bony protuberance.

Morning. Out at the farm. Holly stood, watching herself. Her future self fled to the farm, to the back gate. On a snowy Christmas morning, she ran to the woman, now hanging upside-down between two different trees, spread wide. Abused. Raped. Left to die but still breathing, still lightly sobbing with what remained of her life energy. “Yes, see, I’m helping her,” Holly said as her future self got to work lowering the woman down. Helping her to stand. The woman’s blood got on Holly’s clothes. On the seats of her car. And then they drove.

And drove. The woman sat in the front, allowing real Holly and Future to sit in the back. She sucked in a deep breath. Her future self, the Holly of only a few hours later, was not driving to Portland. Not to the close hospital, but again out on a long drive. The woman sat slumped, dazed, drifting in and out of consciousness. She wouldn’t notice the duration. She wouldn’t notice she was being taken too far away.

“No, I don’t believe this,” Holly said to Future. “Get me back to real life and I’ll take her to the local hospital. I’ll call the police. I’ll do everything right!” Future ghost sat impassively. He wouldn’t talk. She knew that. The events passed in a whirl. The drive. The drop off. The return drive. Then the clean-up. Future Holly returned to the farm, cut the trees associated with the attack, and hauled them to the chipper, the one she used to dispose of unsold or diseased cut trees. She could sell the excess for mulch. The falling snow would obscure the blood on the ground, and the thaw would return all fluids to the ground.

“Well, I can’t speak to this,” Holly said. “But even if I make this choice, what of it? I got the woman help. I’m going to lock the place up harder. I’ll hire a security guard, okay? The payment from just one bunny hunt can pay a guy for a year of service. Not bad for a cushy job, guarding a tree farm, right?”

But the ghost just shook his bony head. No. No. But what else was there?

Now she stood in the town square. Her reality was still naked, but she recognized now that she was unseen, unheard, and in the future version, untouched. In a café, people from town, from her town, sat watching the news reports.

“Scandal at a Christmas Tree farm. Jim, we don’t often hear or think of that phrase. What kind of scandal could a plot of pine trees possibly have?”

“Well, Judy, this one has quite a lot. Viewers familiar with our town will remember that last month, local manager of the Fir & Pie Bakery and Christmas Tree Farm Holly Merchant was arrested on charges of human trafficking, kidnapping, extortion, racketeering, fraud, wire fraud, sexual assault, destroying evidence of a sex crime, and the list just goes on. She was fingered as part of the deposition of New York crime boss Hank Benzini, who identified Miss Merchant as the overlord of the human trafficking syndicate in North America.”

“Now Jim, legal experts expect many of these charges won’t stick, but what’s happening today?”

“Well, today the bakery and farm at the center of the case has been sold at public auction to Amazon. A company spokesman has promised that they will use the land to build an AI Data Center. The trees are currently being removed from the land and the bakery building will be demolished today as well.”

“Now you’re just making shit up!” Holly cried. “This would never happen! It can’t!” But the grumbles and sneers of the townsfolk watching, talking about ‘that weird gloomy chick that ran the place’ pierced her soul worse than any cock pierced her pussy. “You can’t let this happen!” she cried to them. “This is your community! That farm is the soul of this town! Bobby,” she said to one of the locals, who sipped his coffee as she screamed at him. “Where are you going to get a pecan pie on Thanksgiving morning? Rita, your kids had such fun picking out the perfect tree last year!”

Ignored. Holly stood there, invisible and irrelevant, surrounded by the very people she tried to bind together in balsam bliss. They walked around her, ignoring her. She cried out to them more, waving her arms in people’s faces, screaming into their ears. And they went out their day, walking in some cases right through her. She dropped to her knees, sobbing. It was too horrific. Her trees, her beautiful, love-giving trees, murdered in the prime of their lives!

“Please, I beg of you! No more. I’ll stop this! Whatever it takes. No profit to me! I’ll change! I’ll change, I promise.”

Now Future ghost stood beside her and again proffered his bony finger. She clutched at it and in an instant was back in her bedroom, lying atop the mattress. It was still dark out. She looked at her clock. 4:34. Christmas morning. She flung herself up and turned on the lights. No ghosts. No spirits. Just her, Holly, and a body that still bore the marks of her abuse. No matter. She had a farm and a community to save. Nothing else mattered. She threw clothes on, grabbed a first aid kit, and raced out to the farm. There was a raped woman to save. She would do the right thing!

***

Christmas Eve. Holly Merchant stood at the front steps of the bakery, looking out into the snowy night. It had been a very white December, and business remained brisk all the same. No unbroken snow remained out in the U-Cut farm. The trampling bootsteps of thousands of happy families had imprinted the footprints of love and joy into the snow. True, the field was a muddy, frozen mess, but a mess of joy and happiness. She locked up and headed home.

Dinner was her usual holiday fare. Good cheese, fine bread from in town, wine. Streaming services. “Here’s to salvation,” she said to no one. Carole, maybe, if she was listening. There was no doubt her apparitions were real. She’d found the woman hanging naked between the trees just as Future ghost showed her. She’d been fucked and choked for real. So maybe Carole was still out there. She missed her old friend. She sat watching Santa saving the universe as she dozed off.

The groaning of the foundation woke her, and she glanced up to see what might happen. She’d resolved all the issues. Maybe the ghost of Christmas Tree Mea Culpa would pay her a visit this year. The banging and rattling told her she was right. Someone was coming. Someone was in the house already, in the walls.

“Carole!” she cried as her dead friend emerged all glowy from the wall. Carole looked as she had. Naked. Handcuffed. A noose dangled from her neck. “I’m so glad it’s you. I changed, Carole. I made it all better!”

“Hey there, Halls,” Carole said as Holly hugged her. “Merry Christmas.” She paused. Her face wore none of the joy she could have had in the circumstances. “Oh Holly, why couldn’t you listen to what we told you?”

“What do you mean? I fixed everything. That woman they raped last year, I found her. I saved her. I brought her to the local hospital and alerted the police. They investigated.”

“Investigated what? Did you give them a name? Hank Benzini.

“Okay, I didn’t say anything I couldn’t prove.”

“And the smashed padlock? You smashed it. They opened it with a key, but you faked the break in.”

“I am not guilty and I made it clear that other people are guilty. Come on, Carole! We know I didn’t have a role in bringing that girl here. All I did was cover up ‘evidence’ that made me look bad. You know the truth!”

“And the bunny hunts?”

“I kicked Hank out. Told him to take a hike. Then I added security and hired a security guard.”

“And the bunny hunts?” Carole repeated. “You used a contact you know to start them with a different syndicate!”

“All done with willing participants! Sixty-grand a pop!”

“But you’ve despoiled the spirit of the Christmas Tree! How much joy would be despoiled if these people knew their holiday tree once served as a sex toy?”

“But they don’t know it. It’s not like the trees spread Herpes to whoever puts the Star of Bethlehem on top!”

“Oh, Halls. This is not right.”

“Well I say it is right. No crimes, no violations.”

“And no more chances? Is that what you want?” Carole’s visage twisted in sorrow. “Let’s walk to the farm. You and me.”

“It’s snowing out!”

“It’s only a half mile. No one is out driving. Holly, the farm’s doom is out there, right now. As we speak.”

“Then I have to be fast!”

“You’ll put the car in a ditch. Walk with me.”

“Oh. Okay.” Carole seemed so down. But maybe she could be cheered up. She got dressed and put a coat on before they headed out. Carole, of course, was still chained and naked. “So, are you cold like that? I was, some of the time.”

“I feel everything,” Carole said. “But nothing harms me. I’m dead.”

“Right.” So they walked, trudging along through the snow on an unplowed Highway Nine. “Some plow driver is going to have an unmerry Christmas,” she said.

“It’s quite the storm building,” Carole said. “Millions of people will have a White Christmas this year.”

“Good! It’s such a simple joy.”

They got there and went to the front gate. She opened the breaker box and turned on the floodlights. “See, no more skulking about in the dark,” she said. “It’s a security measure.”

“Where is your security guard?”

“Holiday time. He has the night off,” Holly said. Carole nodded. They went in. Indeed, the floodlights did provide light. Eight blinding points of light on the sides and corners of the plot of land allowed anyone to move around. Of course, spaced five hundred feet apart, they cast a lot of deep shadows to contrast with the fresh white snow. The trampled frozen mud was buried.

“What are we looking for? What doom?” Holly asked.

“Look closer.”

Holly looked. Closer. Whatever that meant. She peered around her, into the shadows, into the trees. Her beloved trees. But then, then… They were not alone. There were people out there. Hiding? No, not hiding. Translucent? Slowly they came into focus.

“Children?” she asked. They were small. Not tall. But, not kids. Colorful attire. Stockier builds. “Elves?” she gasped. Now they came into focus, milling about, walking. Watching.”

“These are the ghosts of the Christmas elves of years past,” Carole said. “Santa’s elves, as you might know them. They toiled for centuries to bring joy on Earth, but their way to eternal bliss was blocked, Holly. Every elf that passed on while your Christmas Tree farm was doing the bunny hunt became soul-trapped on the Earth. You’ve forever blocked them from moving on, Holly. Forever.”

“Well, jeez, Carole! You can’t lay all that on me! Like I’m the only source of bad vibe in the whole world. Not that I am! But if I was, I wouldn’t be alone!”

“Yours is the only source of Christmas Trees that despoiled itself with the bunny hunts. It is written, Halls! Written in stone that all Christmas elves in good standing shall upon death ascend to eternal bliss unless a land that produceth trees of the holiday spirit also produceth regular planned predatory sex games of impure thought. And yours is the only one, Holly. Ever!”

“Well maybe you should have led with that a year ago!” Holly cried.

“What, A Christmas Carol was too fucking subtle for you? Read the room, Halls!”

“Fine! Okay. I guess I’ve got enough money. I’ll stop.”

“A year ago, that would have been enough. But another year produced another batch of dead elf spirits denied their bliss. They’re a forgiving people, but only to a point. You have to atone for them.”

“W-what does that mean?”

“Until they ascend to bliss, they’ll take the next best thing, and that’s your pussy. All at once. What goes around comes around, Halls.”

“What? No! That can’t be right!”

“Yeah, true. Your ass and mouth too.”

“You’re crazy!” Holly screamed, but as she looked out into the floodlit snows, the elves were closing in. Now they were fully solid, fully corporeal. Dozens of them. Hundreds. She turned to run. To try to break through. But the Christmas elves were built more like Tolkien dwarves, and the first one she tried to push past just stood still, letting her bounce off and fall to the snowy ground. “No! Wait! Carole, please! Help me!”

It had to be wrong. As her clothes tore off her body, it just had to be wrong. She tried to roll away, to squirm out from under them. The cold snow stuck to her naked flesh, chilling her to the bone. But not all was cold. The elves spoke, shouted, but in a language Holly couldn’t even recognize. And their cocks, larger than a man’s, sprung up all around her. She struggled and thrashed as they pinned her down. One bearded, twisted old soul leered down at her as his prick slid along her slit. He was saying something. Mean. Angry. Domineering. She cried out as the cock slid into her cunt. Too big! She screamed, but thick angry elves sat on her arms and legs to pin her down. How many were there? Hundreds?

How long would it take? As she lay there, being gradually traded around and fucked up every hole, hours later, she saw that Carole too laying with her in the snow, nearby. Ravaged just as hard, still wearing her cuffs and noose. “Carole! How?”

“I failed!” Carole gasped between mouthfuls of cock and holiday elf nog. She coughed out a few swallows. “I guess we’re together now, Halls. I guess I’m not lonely anymore. We’ll be here forever, both of us, two gals together forever.”

And it is said, in the storybooks read to former children, that Holly and Carole too both lay eternally in that snowy tree farm. For Holly is embedded forever in Christmas, and the countless families that harvest their trees at the Fir & Pie Bakery and Christmas Tree Farm (under new management) will always walk away feeling that something good happened there. A grand sacrifice was made for the holiday benefit of all mankind. It is said that Holly, even lying raped and violated in the snows forever, could still witness the apparitions of these future visitors as ghostly pre-images of a future that unfolded in real time. As she lay raped and shivering for the umpteenth time, she could witness in pale form superimposed on the harsh floodlit snows those happy lumberjacks sawing their holiday cheer as an elf cock sawed at her gash.

And as the world moved on, even as Christmas became a forgotten quaint old tradition of the time before history, always in that land did the local folk remember and celebrate as a bit of local color the olden customs of the tree, the lights, the spirit, the snow, serene and secure that in some way, the joy of the season remained anchored in that spot, an ancient sacrifice by benevolent souls still with them forever. ‘Tis a Holly jolly Christmas, one and all.

[Shocker]

Nice one, anybody citing Muppets Christmas Carol automatically finds my approval.

[SoftGameHunter]

Nice one, anybody citing Muppets Christmas Carol automatically finds my approval.

Well I hope that's not the only selling point, but yes. That's probably the only version I've watched more than once. A whole lot more, as it turns out.

[Vile8r]

A very unique take on the "Christmas Carol" story. Holly had quite the "side business" going with her Christmas tree farm. Overall, a very good 'Holiday Gangbang' theme!

[Shocker]

@SoftGameHunter it certainly has other selling features. As for a Christmas Carol the number of times I have seen that movie, didn’t have a 2 as first digit in a long time. So I consider you a man of culture.

[SoftGameHunter]

Well I don't think my viewings is up in the 20s yet, but it will be soon enough. I watch it with my wife every year we've been together, and a couple times before that. I only wish my version will be as successful when someone puts it in film form.

[VictimEyes]

I agree.
Charles Dickens - eat your heart out!

[RapeU]

Excellent version of Dicken's classic. Never thought that angry ghost elves would whet the fantasy, but here we are

[DeckerDary13]

a dark twisted version of Dicken's version

[Lucius]

Putting the 'dick' in Dickens is an unusual take on things, I'm certain! Great dialogue, too.