Twin Elf-Sluts Save Christmas

The course names sounded boring, but they answered the fundamental questions about elves' existence and purpose.

Where did elves, reindeer, and even Santa himself come from? The belief of millions of children around the world created them.

When did those beliefs reach critical mass, making physical the myth in its current iteration? No one knew for sure. Santa Claus himself was the oldest of them. The Norse, Italians, Germans, Britons, Russians, Dutch, and many more made and remade him in their myths. The peculiarities of each tradition gave him his fluidity as a magical being, but what did he remember? When did the beginning begin?

Indeed, every elf could expire and vanish in a moment if too few humans in them. Not every elf needed to be named, but they needed to be believed in as a group of magical beings. Their unmaking could occur as easily as a new magical being could appear, as had happened when a new reindeer appeared in Santa's stables in 1939, forming from pure magic and complete with a glowing red nose, after the publication of a popular children's book by Robert Lewis May.

As the years passed, fewer and fewer children believed in Santa past the age of six. This new trend of never "lying" to children meant that many little ones never believed in Santa at all.

The most recent unmaking occurred just ten years prior. Mrs. Claus, who always appeared as a rotund, sweet-faced grandma in a Christmas sweater and apron, went poof, never to be seen again. Elf scholars believed that the fluctuation in her depiction—not appearing in most Santa stories, suddenly appearing at different ages and with varying attributes in Hallmark films, and disinterest from children—ultimately caused the decorporealization.

It was an incredible stroke of luck for Tinsel Tidings that Tabitha had sufficient understanding to consult on the pivotal, magic-centric problem. But Tabitha didn't just have a temporary fix; she had come up with a strategy to power the North Pole indefinitely and to free the elves and Santa alike from the remaking that evolving belief subjected them to.

A knock came at the door. Tinsley strode in without waiting. She was wearing a skin-tight green velvet turtleneck dress that ended at mid-thigh. High-heeled leather green boots clad her legs, stopping two inches short of the dress's hem.

"There you are! I brought dinner back to the apartment and when you weren't there, I worried. Please tell me you're not going through the slide deck again?"

She walked over to where Tabitha sat at her desk wearing a simple cranberry sheath dress, her hair swept up in a chignon. Pointedly, Tinsley hopped up onto the desk directly in front of Tabitha, blocking the computer screen.

"We finalized the slide deck for the third time at 3 PM. It's now 7 PM. It's perfect the way it is and, did I mention, it's final? We're ready to do this presentation. We've got this. What might screw us up is if you show up to the presentation as an exhausted nervous wreck."

Tabitha rubbed her forehead anxiously. "What if I'm wrong about the solution? What if we all, fuck, what if we all disappear because I'm not half as clever as I think?"

With a groan, she leaned forward, putting her head down on her sister's lap. Tinsley stroked her hair gently.

"Tabitha, for what it's worth, I believe that you're right. But we're also not the only ones working on this. There are four much larger, better-funded firms bidding for the project this week. Solving this isn't all on your shoulders, and not getting this contract won't break us. No one expects us to get it, anyway."

Tabitha took a deep breath and nodded, her forehead still buried in her sister's lap.

"Okay," she murmured. "I'm ready to go home now." She lifted her head. Tinsley grabbed the back of her neck to hold her down and then spread her legs, exposing the panty-free pussy that her minidress barely covered.

"Oh, I don't think so," Tinsley said. "You missed dinner at home, so I brought you some to-go. Get eating, sweetheart."

Tabitha gasped with surprise. "Tinsley, not at the office! What if someone walks in?"

Tinsley rolled her eyes. "You have got to stop worrying all the time. The building's almost empty at this time of the evening. Besides," she remarked with a smirk, "I'm not asking you. I'm telling you. If you don't make me cum before we leave this office, you're going to spend the night tied to the bed with vibrators stuffed in your ass and pussy. We'll see how much sleep you get then."

Sharing a bed every night with Tabitha, to use and abuse, was one of the best developments of the last two years, as far as Tinsley reflected. The very best one, of course, had been convincing Tabitha to get matching nipple and clit piercings with her.

"I wasn't refusing! I was just being cautious," Tabitha pouted, leaning forward and lapping at the edges of her sister's slit with enthusiasm.

Tinsley sighed with pleasure and arched her back in satisfaction. Tabitha hadn't had a natural talent for cunnilingus, but it hadn't taken long to train her as a talented box licker. Tinsley loved giving Tabby orders and humiliating her sister for her eagerness.

Tinsley had meant to stop slipping Tabitha the powdered mistletoe once they started fucking, but when she had, Tabitha expressed inconvenient qualms about the ethics of their liaisons. Tinsley resumed dosing her immediately.

One day, she accidentally mixed up their cups. She realized what had happened when the panty-soaking need set in, but when she fucked her sister slut that night, the sex was better than ever, so she now took it daily as well.

"Play with my clit and start finger-fucking me," Tinsley instructed. She was wearing one of her favorite piercings on her clitoral hood that day. It had a tiny gold Christmas present bow on it. She thought it was appropriate since her pussy was a gift to anyone she allowed to pleasure her.

Looking down, Tinsley noticed her sister rocking in her office chair.

"Are you grinding against your chair, Tabby? Is licking your sister's pussy on your office desk making you wet?"

"Mmm hm," Tabitha replied, her face buried in her sister's crotch. She knew better than to stop sucking without permission.

Tinsley reached down and pushed Tabitha's face firmly against her twat, then gyrated her hips, grinding and smearing her peppermint pussy juice all over her sister's face.

"You're a great consultant, but where you shine is with your face buried between your sister's legs, you little whore. You belong on your knees worshipping my pussy. You're such a perfect fuck doll for your twin, and you can't stop because you know that's all you were meant to be."

The combination of the grinding and belittling of her sister was enough to push Tinsley over the edge. She rained viscous streams of peppermint cunt juice all over Tabitha as she moaned her release.

It turned Tabitha on, but she miffed her as well. Her sister had pulled her hair out of its chignon and now she had pussy cream rubbed all over her face. Some of it had gotten in her nose. Again.

Tinsley levered herself into a sitting position, still trying to catch her breath. She cupped her sister's face, tilting it up towards her. She pressed a single, soft kiss onto Tabitha's lips.

"Got a little carried away there. All right, darling?"

Tabitha sullenly bobbed her head. Tinsley recognized that look and headed it off at the pass. The last thing she needed was her sister behaving like a brat with such an important meeting the next day.

She slid her booted leather foot in between her sister's thighs, putting firm pressure against her sister's cunt with the rounded toe. Then she started scooping up all the peppermint juice running down her sister's face and shoving her fingers into Tabitha's mouth, feeding it to her.

"There you go, such a desperate slut. You can grind on my boot. I'll even let you cum. Eat up that juice now, don't waste it."

Tabitha let out a series of low moans as she started humping the boot and sucked on her sister's fingers, desperate for release. Tinsley withdrew her fingers to reach down and tug on her sister's pierced nipples through her dress.

"I think you forgot to say something to me before, Tabby. Surely you didn't mean to make me cross," Tinsley murmured.

Tabitha was working her hips fast and moaning as she did, but she understood Tinsley meant what she said. Over two years of depraved sexual conditioning kicked in.

"Thank you for using this slut's mouth and face," she said, the rote, humiliating phrase pushing her closer to orgasm.

"Good girl," Tinsley cooed. "Good slut." She slapped her sister lightly across the face once, then twice. "That's because I shouldn't have to remind you to be grateful that I take care of your constant, whorish needs. Now, cum on your sister's boot, box-licker."

Tabitha came hard, pressing desperately against her sister's leg. She leaned back in her chair, gasping and shaking.

"My, my," Tinsley observed. "You were pretty wound up."

Tabitha nodded. "We hadn't had sex in, like, 36 hours! I started feeling all anxious... You know how hard a time I have the longer we wait," she whined.

Tinsley pulled her sister into her arms, smiling softly.

"I know, honey. You need me to fuck you every single day, usually two or three times. Don't worry. I'll always be here to take care of you."

"After we get through the pitch tomorrow, can we go straight home? Spend some quality time?" Tabitha begged, clinging to her.

"Of course, but only if you agree to one little thing..." Tinsley replied, licking her lips in anticipation.

************************

Santa Claus, née Kris Kringle, Lord Protector of the North Pole, Saint of Basil and Myra, Master of Elves, Herald of Winter Tidings, Blessed Gift-Bringer, and Father of Christmas was having a long, frustrating day.

Standing with his hands clasped behind his back, he surveyed his kingdom through the floor-to-ceiling window of his office in the sparkling crystal castle that served as his home and workshop. He cut a trim, muscular figure that defied the depictions of him in most contemporary art. After being imagined and reimagined by billions of people over thousands of years, Kris had a myriad of guises available to him. He changed his form as casually as some people changed coats.

Had an expert in medieval art seen him that day, they might have remarked on his uncanny resemblance to a wall painting of St. Nicholas Lipensky from the Lipnya Church in Novgorod, Russia, dated to 1294. His pale face was angular, with a prominent brow and a narrow, aquiline nose. Crows' feet bracketed his gold eyes and a short, pointed beard framed his wide mouth. Large, loose curls of white-streaked blond hugged his head. Wearing a charcoal suit with a light gray cashmere turtleneck, he appeared to be in his late 40s or early 50s.

He had started his day full of enthusiasm and hope. A decade before, when Mrs. Claus ceased to exist, it shocked and horrified him. Admittedly, they'd had a somewhat strained relationship. He didn't pick her; she appeared one day after some American idiot made a claymation movie about him. She was old, she constantly baked fruitcake, and had no sex drive. He'd given her a wing of the castle and studiously avoided her for half a century, but that didn't mean he wished her dead. At least, he hadn't actively wished her dead... he didn't think.

Therein lay the problem, of course. As the primary figure of the Christmas myth, his unwillingness to pantomime the story may have caused her sudden disappearance. It was equally possible that it was because of a generalized magic shortage or some combination of the two.

For the next decade, he worked day and night to stabilize the flow of magic which corporealized his kingdom. He'd made significant strides, bolstering the popularity of his myth throughout the middle and far east. But none of those efforts addressed the inescapable fact that very few people thought about Santa in July.

In frustration, he reached out to the four largest Elven consulting firms in the kingdom to work on the issue. He'd swore them to secrecy to avoid a panic and set meetings with each firm for today to talk through their ideas.

He was certain that at least half the meetings would provide novel suggestions. Instead, what had they offered?

The CEO of Yuleman, LLC, strolled into his office and suggested that he should dress up as Krampus on Halloween and run around terrifying children to extend his season. Carol & Sing sent talentless lackeys who mumbled about establishing Christ-Sol, a second Christmas in the middle of summer.

Bellwort, Inc. at least sent their executive team, but then they spent the entire meeting implying that there was no issue with magic quantity or stability and that he was to blame for Mrs. Claus's untimely demise. As if that hadn't occurred to him! By the time they finished their two-hour marathon of accusations, he was grateful for a half-hour break before his fourth meeting.

He stared out the window. Yes, he was having an abominable day.

That's when his assistant Navi Dad stepped hesitantly into the room. He threw his hands up.

"No! I don't care if Snow & Sons are early, Navi, do not let them in until 3 PM."

Navi licked his lips nervously. "Uh, well Santa? They're not coming."

"What do you mean, they're not coming?" Santa demanded. He was king here. One simply did not cancel on him.

"They've withdrawn their candidacy. They said they lack adequate expertise and resources to address the concerns listed in our brief," Navi muttered.

"Those little cowards," Santa said in disbelief.

"Were the other meetings promising, at least, Sir?" Navi asked hopefully.

"No," Santa mumbled bleakly, slumping in defeat. "They didn't have a single good idea between them. They're a pack of idiots, every one of them."

"Oh, dear. I am sorry to hear that," Navi opined. "At least I moved up your last appointment of the day with Tinsel Tidings. They'll be here at 3 to take Snow & Sons slot."

"Oh, for ornaments' sake, I thought we removed them from the bidder pool? They've only been around for three years."

"What can it hurt to meet with them? None of the others panned out so far," Navi said reprovingly. "Besides, you could use a bit of eye candy to round out your day. They come from a hospitality family, you know."

Santa looked askance. "I don't know their first names, and most people are too afraid to gossip near me, and even I've heard they're the two most frigid bitches in the North Pole."

"Maybe for everybody else," Navi said, grinning wickedly. "But if there was ever a time to change tack and fuck their way to the top, a meeting with the king is it."

Santa Claus held his laugh in with great effort. He didn't want to encourage his assistant's machinations.

"Navi," he said in a reproving tone, "You oughtn't to say such things to me. My wishes can exert undue influence on elves around me. I take great pains to avoid that."

Navi sighed. "I'm just trying to get you to have a little fun. You've been an absolute drag since the 1940s. Live a little!" With that, Navi turned on his heel and pranced out of Kris Kringle's office.

With twenty minutes to himself, Kris Kringle broke one of his own rules. That silly old song that warns he knows "if you've been bad or good, so be good for goodness' sake!" was a precise description of what Kris knew. Of course, if he let himself hear all the naughty and nice deeds of every person in the world, he'd go mad. But, when he focused on a person, he sensed instantly if they were good or bad, and could call back into his hearing moments of both extremes. He also always knew the true heart's desire of each person he met with; it's how he select the perfect gift for each boy and girl.

With his spare moments, Kris satisfied his curiosity about the aloof Tinsel twins. He glanced at his calendar for the names and then chanted them softly to himself, closing his eyes. Tabitha Tinsel, Tinsley Tinsel, Tabitha Tinsel, Tinsley Tinsel, Tabitha Tinsel, Tinsley Tinsel.

One was nice, Santa sensed, so very, very nice. What she wanted most in the world was to be seen and appreciated as the good girl that she was. Tabitha Tinsel.

One was naughty, so very, very naughty. What she wanted most was to get her way, no matter the cost. She knew she was naughty, though, and a part of her regretted her naughtiness and wished to be punished. Tinsley Tinsel.

They transfixed Kris. Their twin needs sang to him, dichotomous and seductive. He went deeper, calling up their most ruthless and most giving moments.

Tabitha. "You've got to treat your employees better, Rue!"

Tinsley. "You like that, pencil dick? Interrupt me again, and I'll put a bit in your horse-toothed excuse for a mouth."

Tabitha. "Tinsy, you're always there for me. I don't know what I would do without you."

Tinsley. The sound of a spoon scraping a cup for 1,100 consecutive mornings, mixing mistletoe into a cup.

Kris frowned. He wondered to whom the cup belonged.

Tabitha. "I'm so sex-starved, I could die!"

Tinsley. "We're basically just masturbating because, I mean, we're twins! No one would ever suspect."

Tabitha. "I want my sister to suck my clit! Just don't stop. Please don't stop."

Tinsley. "You better make me cum, or I'll spank you until you behave like a proper sister slut."

Kris was gobsmacked. They'd been fucking each other for years! Multiple times a day! Tinsley had drugged them both to enhance their pleasure!

He stopped the flow of memories and moaned low in his throat. The filtered murmurs of their depravity made him rock hard. He reached down and rubbed himself through his pants. This is what happens, Kris thought to himself, when horny little elf girls are left to their own devices. Lucky for them that Father Christmas will look after them, starting now.

************************

Tabitha and Tinsley climbed up the grand staircase of the crystal palace. As they strode through the building, heads turned everywhere. Tabitha felt their eyes and the whispers weighing on her.

She leaned toward Tinsley and hissed, "These dresses were a mistake!"

Tinsley smirked. She loved the attention. "We look fucking incredible. Chill!"

They both wore thin, skin-tight sweater dresses that looked poured on. Among elf-kind, sweaters of all sorts qualified as standard business attire. The twins did not have the exiguous figures of most elves, however. What looked perfectly acceptable on an A-cup elf girl with no ass made the twins look insanely curvaceous.

On a typical day, Tabitha never would have worn such an ostentatious garment. The outfit was a condition of her ill-conceived promise to Tinsley from the night prior. In exchange for going straight home after the meeting for bonding time, she had to let Tinsley dress her from head to toe.

Not only had Tinsley made her wear the too-tight dress and stiletto heels to the most important meeting of her career, but she was also wearing a satin thong and matching balconette bra. Both looked weaved from thick satin ribbon complete with bows. The worst part was the nipple and clit decorations that had gold "tinsel" chains.

"You'll have tinsel titties, and I'll have jingle jugs!" Tinsley exclaimed with power-mad glee earlier that morning. It mortified Tabitha. She swore she heard the faint jingling of bells with every step her sister took beside her. The whole thing was mad!

"Get your head in the game," Tinsley half-whispered, half-giggled to her as they reached the top of the staircase.

It would have been a feat to do so under any other circumstances, dressed as she was, but the palace they walked through awed Tabitha. Most elves would never walk these halls in their lifetimes. The walls and floors were formed in the exact shape one might expect for a palace, with intricate molding, chair railing, and columns. The material set the space apart and gave Tabitha the sense of walking into another world. It was all a white, ice-like crystal. A building created by pure magic.