A Year in Christmastown

This is an experimental story for the Winter Holidays Story Contest 2022. I had this idea...and I could not get it out of my head. So it will have a little bit of everything and will be unconventional in its presentation. For the sake of inspiration, perhaps sacrilege...but it's the stop-motion Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer with the Bumble, Yukon Jack, the Island of Misfit Toys and Burl Ives singing....

All characters engaging in sexual relations in this story are adult.

The camera opens with a wide-open vista. Snow covers everything but its not the powdery sort that sparkles as the sun moves across the sky. Rather the sun is exceedingly low on the horizon, casting a paltry orange glow across the landscape. As the camera slowly pans in, through the needles of an evergreen tree and in and in until a small rill of flowing water can be seen. The clear water is kept in the center frame for a moment.

The narrator begins to speak. His voice is soft, melodic and clearly British with its clipped accents. "It is spring time here in Christmastown. The sun has finally snuck over the horizon, casting the first rays of light upon this blanket of snow that the region has seen in many months. But even these weak rays are enough to start melting the snow. Spring is coming to the land, and the denizes of Christmastown are awakening from their long slumber."

The camera pans out quickly, a last fleeting shot of a vast expanse of white lit by those orange rays. A vertical line appears on the screen, falling downward. This black line remains steady for a moment, then the green tint of a night-vision camera shows two separate bedrooms.

In one bed are two large lumps, with a large shock of gray hair visible at the top of the heads, though the tint makes that hard to see. There is movement, as the man shifts from his back to his side, away from the woman who remains asleep next to him. The audio plays a smack-smack of the man's lips opening and closing, then a rumbling fart is heard.

"Excuse me!" the narrator exclaims, his voice indulgently humorous.

In the other bed, this one clearly much smaller, two equally much smaller creatures stir. Their movements are quick and restless, and before long the two seem to be looking at one another. The pointy tips of ears can be spotted above the comforter, and the heads come together as if to kiss. Quickly, the camera backs off.

"An, and they've just come awake."

The camera cuts again to a spacious but empty warehouse building. Rows upon rows of tables, each table with two chairs, sit in orderly solitude. There is a large raised platform at one end of this room.

"This..." the narrator explains. "Is where the magic happens." Once again, he chuckles indulgently. "And in more ways than one!"

There is a movement shot next. The camera is positioned high above an arrangement of buildings that look very much like a village. A large castle dominates the village, the position of this building set atop the slightest of rises in the earth. As the camera moves, it begins to sweep forward and down. Soon the viewer is shown close up of quaint, impeccably decorated cottages, with front doors adorned in plentiful colors, a mixture of red and green, silver and gold.

A door opens and the viewers are introduced to the first full-body shot of a Christmastown elf. "And there he is," our narrator tells us. The elf is shaded slightly green, and looks quite thin. His ears are long and pointy, rising over a shock of blond hair. Eyes that are large and round gaze out upon the land, and upon the other homes. He wears a simple robe that looks thick and warm. The robe is drawn loosely around his waist, and perhaps a frame or two might hint at his organ hidden beneath that robe. He suddenly stands on his tip-toes, flinging his arms out widely from his body, engaging in the sort of stretch that might make the viewer consider doing their own along with the elf. He has a contented look on his face as he turns on his heel, and enters his cottage, the door closing solidly behind him.

"As winter's grip loosens and Christmastown awakens into spring, the merry elves emerge to begin a season of frolic and play."

Shots of clearly juvenile elves are shown, their joyous laughter audible to the viewer. It's easy to tell quickly that the children are playing hide-and-go-seek, and enjoying the simplicity of their play.

"But it's not *all* fun and games," our narrator tells us, ending again with a small chuckle. The camera now shows young elves aligned in rows, all actively listening to an adult elf standing at the head of the room. The elves bend as one, pencils raised, and begin taking notes. The moment is recognizable to anyone who has attended a school, for it is a school in session.

"And being springtime, especially after a long dormancy, the adults of Christmastown have a great deal of their own pent-up energies to burn off," he says.

Another night-vision shot is shown, and the covers rise and fall in a familiar rhythm. The audio plays that of a high-pitched elf giving full voice to the pleasure that she feels. The male elf's deep grunts mix in, and the rhythm is steady and seems to be quickening.

"Yes, this is the time that adult elves adhere to their own deep, biological needs," our narrator informs us. The night vision shows the movements growing faster, the penetrative thrusts done with more vigor and speed, and the cries of the female elf growing steadily needier. Her arms suddenly thrust out from under the covers, clasping at the broad back of her elfin lover. His movements result in the covers falling down far enough to expose his muscular backside, and we can see the way that his muscles form a dimple at each hip as his body pivots to thrust into her, each penetration harder and deeper than the last.

Her hands form into talons, and she scratches her nails along his back. That triggers our elfin male to cry out, a deep roar, and then his hips slam forward, muscles visibly trembling as he finishes planting his seed. At this same moment, his partner moans loudly, her head whipping from side to side, and a glimpse of her breast is seen, a swell of flesh topped by a darker-colored nipple, clearly stiff. As the male climaxes, she seems to as well, her back arching off of the bed and giving a better angle for her body to receive his seed.

"Ah, and is this moment of procreation?" our narrator chuckles. "We will only need to wait a few months to discover whether this tender moment was merely an act of love, or whether she was fertilized by his seed." As the lovers fall to the bed and look into one another's eyes, their long, spindly fingers caressing each other's skin tenderly, the camera backs away again.

"You see, it's spring time when those adult elves who are ready to reproduce encourage the act. It's also spring time when the young adult elves, male and female both, congregate in large groups." A party is shown, where young male elves, dressed sharply, preen and prance around the comely females. These females are coy, smiling and giggling at the silly antics of the males. But from time to time, a female holds out her hand, and her chosen male slides his hand into hers. They go off, to talk quietly or to move to the dance hall.

The camera moves to the dance hall, where interspersed widely and seemingly at random, small tables dot the otherwise empty floor. There are pairs, dancing elegantly and well, the two partners in obvious animated conversation. At the occupied tables, male and female elves further engage in conversation.

"Not all such encounters end well for the males," our narrator chuckles. We see a female elf shake her head sternly. Her arm rises, and a spindly finger points at the exit doors. The male makes a final plea but it is roundly rejected. He rises with slumped shoulders, his hands jammed into his pockets, and trudges away from the couples. He exits through the proper door, and the camera returns to the female. She looks unhappy, her visage growing even darker as her eyes swing to her exit door. Like the male she just spurned, she rises - though her shoulders are somewhat more erect - and returns to the mingling floor for another round.

As the camera backs off from the exit door to show the crowd, its clear that most of the females have made better choices than the two who had to exit.

"With each passing day, more and more singles are paired off, until there are only fifty - twenty five of each sex - remaining. Then," our narrator adds a dramatic pause, "the customs of our elfin friends take over, and the dating season is officially closed." A quick pan over the twenty-five males and twenty-five females shows the viewers a lot of unhappy faces, but the viewers cannot see anything necessarily wrong with them. "Perhaps they were just immature," our narrator explains.

The camera cuts away from the village, and the castle comes into view. The camera begins a steady zoom into the center of the castle, to a patio set high up on the building. A man and woman come into view; the man is thin, though with a full, nearly white beard and equally full, nearly white hair. The woman standing next to him, with her arm draped around his lower back, has her own full head of white hair. She wears little makeup save for some reddening of her lips. Their matching half-moon glasses give them a wizened looked. His arm rises, and drapes over her shoulder.

Somewhat to the viewer's surprise, both adults are naked. Though its flaccid, the man's organ has some length to it. Her sex is hidden by a thick patch of silvery and curly pubic hair. Her breasts are neither large nor small, but just right, and do not sag, though clearly they are neither as plump nor firm as they once might have been. She lowers her hand and pats the man's bare bum, and his head turns to her. Their kiss is rather chaste, before they turn and re-enter the castle.

"Mr. and Mrs. Claus," the narrator announces, in a rather excited manner. "Though not dressed quite like the childrens' stories might tell!" he continues.

The next scene shows Santa and Mrs. Claus both dressed. Their clothes remain red, but especially Santa looks thin, perhaps dangerously thin. Cheeks that ought to be full and rosy and hollow. The viewer might think he seems rather gaunt, and the viewer would not be wrong.

"Whilst the elves enjoy the mating rituals of spring, Mr. and Mrs. Claus begin planning. After all, Christmas is a mere eight months away. There is much to do." The pair is seen poring over books and jotting down notes. As the camera moves behind them, the point of view gazing down over their shoulder, the two lists headers are visible. Ornately lettered and in large printing, any viewer can see the titles: NAUGHTY and NICE.

The next scene shows the Claus's both wearing rougher, heavier clothing. She has a galvanized metal pail in her hand, and labors through her walk, toting an obviously heavy load. She nears a large barn, and enters it. The reindeer, their heads only just beginning to sprout that year's antlers, poke their heads out, bobbing them up and down with pleasure. Mrs. Claus stops at the four feeding troughs, pouring out a quarter of the pail into each trough. The reindeer politely wait until she has completed filling their plates before emerging and beginning to dip their heads to feed.

Outside, Santa is engaged with a far less pleasant task. A winter's buildup of scat needs to be cleaned up, and he's busy wearing nearly knee-high rubber boots and blasting the now-empty stalls with a high-pressure stream of water. That it smells badly is not obvious to the viewer until a close-up of Santa is given, showing the clamp he has put on his nose to cover both nostrils, and the way that he vigorously waves his hand in front of his nose, his eyes crinkling in obvious displeasure.

"This is a job that Mrs. Claus will never consent to do," the narrator chuckles.

The next scene is another split-screen. On one, a close up of Santa as he continues to work in books stacked willy-nilly around in. His office is deep mahogany and looks both imposing yet cozy. Perhaps the fire crackling pleasantly in the fireplace behind the seated Santa is the key to that opinion. On the other screen, Mrs. Claus is seen in her own office, flipping through books. Quickly it becomes apparent that Mrs. Claus is paging through recipes, and she from time to time notes a page with a sticky note. A long, long list of supplies is being created.

The screen goes black, for some viewers will have to now suffer through some advertisements for things they don't need nor cannot afford, yet are so slickly designed that some will think the opposite.

Now the panorama shows a landscape filled with a deep, lush green with dots of high color all around. The sun, though still not high in the sky, blazes down upon the land with nary a cloud to be seen. "It's high summer," our narrator explains. "The sun stays aloft for nearly twenty-two hours, and those two hours of darkness," he says, and then pauses to allow for the screen to do one of those fast-movement forwards as the sun slides quickly along the horizon until midnight time is shown, "are not fully dark as you can see." While mostly dark, it is reminiscent of those last fifteen minutes or so of daylight. The sky is gorgeous, deep purple shade.

A cottage is shown. The front of the house is manicured with many varied but small flowers. The earth is a deep black, as if recently turned. The grasses are left wild but grow short, and the door opens again. It is our man from early on in the show, and he is wearing traditional elfin attire of shorts and a white, loose-fitting shirt, and suspenders. He turns, a noise from inside the house alerting him, and opens his arms. His elfin wife appears at the door, her stomach large and round. Her breasts have thickened and grown fat with her natural milk. He protectively drapes his arm over her shoulder as they stand, his other hand gesturing towards their front yard. She looks up at him, her expression reflecting genuine love, and he seems to know this. His ramble ends, his head turns, and his eyes grow a little large. He bends and gives his elfin wife a long, rather thorough kiss. It's thorough enough that the few lingering seconds of the camera upon his body let the sharp viewer spot the tent that appeared in his pants.

"Elfin females go into season only once annually," our narrator explains, as the camera moves away from the heavily-pregnant elf to another couple at a nearby cottage. "Once their season passes, their eggs will remain dormant until the following spring. Elves give birth to approximately twenty younglings each summer.

"An elf couple will successfully mate only once in their lifetime," he goes on to tell the viewership. "But that will not stop the elves from..." and once more he pauses, then utters a brief chuckle as the scene changes to a cozy-looking spot at the base of a rock, deep in an evergreen forest. Two naked elves are copulating wildly, but rather than the man burying his root into her, she is atop him, her hands at her temples, sweeping her long, black hair away from a face masked in ecstasy. Her body rises and falls, and the camera rotates behind the couple, for the first time showing the penetration of the elfin penis into her vagina. Her spread legs and curvaceous bottom certainly seem quite erotic. "...practicing at any chance that they get!" he concludes, his voice salacious.

The camera lingers, one might say lovingly, onto the female elf as she shudders and suddenly falls forward, her body rising and falling rapidly as she pants. Clearly our female elf has just enjoyed a deep, powerful climax. Only then does the camera pull away from the mated pair.

For the first time in the show, the narrator is shown. His glasses seem slightly steamy and his face is rather ruddy. His smile is grandfatherly as his hand rises to snatch his glasses from his face. He uses a cloth to clean his glasses, then swipes the cloth over his forehead. Finally, his glasses are returned, and he offers the viewers a broad smile. "Got a little carried away myself!" he tells us. "But it is not all pleasure, all of the time," he intones, his voice returning to a more clipped tone.

That vast cavernous warehouse is once more shown, and about half of the tables are occupied. Elves, both male and female alike, are beginning to pore through catalogs and address lists. But the pace is languid, and there is much conversation punctuated by gales of laughter. The elves seem quite satisfied but also free to converse. There are some little gatherings in corners, elves standing and talking animatedly amongst themselves. After a time, the little gathering on screen breaks up; two elves return to their desks while the rest exit the warehouse, whatever that day's task was all finished.

"Early preparations get underway for the big day," our narrator explains. "Despite the magic in all of this, these early preparations ensure smooth operations on Christmas," he says.

"And not all work goes towards the preparation of Christmas Day!" our narrator exclaims. There is now a shot of a gleaming industrial-sized kitchen. Mrs. Claus is at the center, her thick silvery hair tied back from her head. She gestures to a veritable army of assistant elves, both female and male, who scurry about under her guidance. One day it is cookies. The next cheesecakes. The next cakes. Then pies. Mounds of sugar are lessened each day, and great heaps of eggs dwindle in the time-lapse shot. She seems quite content, laughing and jovial in nature and tone. "Kaspar, check the ovens, love!" she is heard calling out to one of the male elves.

Mr. Claus too is hard at work. He is out in the fields, beginning to whip himself and his trusty team of reindeer back into shape. The long winter's slumber has stolen muscle tone, and as Santa calls out a cadence, trotting alongside his eight charges, he pumps his arms and displays a vitality of health that might startle some viewers.

"An in-shape Santa Claus is only rarely glimpsed," our narrator near-whispers. "But the height of summer corresponds with the Mister's best physical conditioning. As we will soon learn," he foreshadows, "a summer of physical exertion is most necessary."

The screen pans to another spot, where the same twenty-five male and twenty-five female elves are once more found mingling. "There's hope yet, for our singles. Though not all of these singles will be eligible next spring!" our narrator states. The screen now shows twelve elves enter the screen.

However, these are not elves the likes of which we have ever seen. These male elves tower over their fellow species. They are broad in the chest, and both thick and long in the leg. Their ears are shorter, all to support a rather expansive belly, but not a soft, bloated one. Their bellies are large and round and tight. Flanking them are the six female elves. They too have exaggerated figures. Breasts that are significantly larger, even than those of the pregnant elves. Their hips are wider, and their bums broad. Their thighs are thick. Nearly all of these female elves have thick wavy hair of varying colors from bright ruby red to the most lustrous raven black. They line up, but not the six males then six females. At a point they begin to mix, and are coupled off.

Then, of all people, come walking in Santa and Mrs. Claus. We see again how the Claus's tower over their elves. The Mister and Missus enter and stand at the center of the six pairs of exaggerated elves. The camera shows Mr. Claus beginning to speak, as Mrs. Claus bobs her head. It becomes obvious that some sort of challenge is presented. Most of the crowd shrinks back; three male elves and two females have stepped forward, ready to gird themselves for whatever task awaits them. The Claus' faces turn kindly, and now it is Mrs. Claus who thanks the singles for their attendance at the day's meeting. As the singles melt away and return to their lives, the five elves look at the leaders of Christmastown and these six imposing couples, trading looks ranging from fear to nervous excitement.