By special request from fellow readers and attendees at the Smutathon Festive Smut Slam, I’ve also made an audio recording of this story! Listen if you’d like…
This story features Riley, a non-binary femme (they/them). Content note for spanking and mentions of alcohol. The best way I can describe this piece is horror erotica, so if you’re not looking for a holiday revenge tale, you may want to get your festive fill elsewhere!
Riley clicked through the list of holiday movies on their TV screen. It was just the first week of December, but this had been one hell of a year. Who cared if they didn’t have a tree up yet? Merriment waits for no one.
Riley groaned as they quickly scrolled past the rom-coms they usually watched every Christmas. This is definitely not the year for that, they thought. Why does everything have to look like a fucking Hallmark card? Get me some holiday horror. That’s a thing, right?
Frustrated, Riley turned off their TV and flung open their laptop. Drunk on spiked eggnog, Riley laughed at the first hit for “Christmas horror movies.” Krampus? What the hell is a Krampus? Krrrrrrrram-puuuuuuuus. Kram-puss! Google provided the answer. Apparently, in parts of Germany and Austria, Krampus is a half-goat, half-demon counterpart to St. Nicholas, who is decked out in chains, carries birch sticks, and punishes naughty children before dragging them to Hell on Krampusnacht.
Okay, merriment can wait just this once, Riley thought. They read on. According to various sources, Krampus has also been historically depicted as a giant woman whipping badly-behaved adult men with birch sticks and stealing them away into the night in her satchel. Riley’s drunk inner monologue continued. Never mind, they thought, this sounds pretty fucking festive to me. If only there were a non-binary Krampus…
“Oh, shit!” Riley slurred at their laptop, audibly this time, disturbing their sleeping cat. It was December 5. Krampusnacht was tonight. Riley’s phone chimed, distracting them from any further research. Eventually, they turned on their favorite comfort show, poured another glass of eggnog, and drifted off to sleep on the couch.
Soon enough, Riley found themself in dreamland. They stood in the middle of their street, surrounded by historic Victorian homes covered in early December snow. But everything looked… smaller, somehow. Riley caught their reflection in a big bay window in a nearby house. They looked… monstrous. But not in a way they hated. Riley took a step closer to the window and stopped almost immediately, looking down at their body to see a mass of chains and bells clanging together, creating a cacophony in the snow-covered stillness. As they reached down to examine one of the chains, a burlap satchel filled with birch sticks fell off of Riley’s shoulder, hanging off the crook of their elbow. Slowly, they rose again, peering at their reflection once more. Curling out of Riley’s head were two horns, a deep, true black color that matched the robes hanging off of them that looked ages-old.
Krampus.
A deliciously devilish grin spread across Riley’s face. They opened their mouth to shout into the falling snow, but instead, a roar escaped their throat, rattling their bones. Riley took a few thundering steps down the street, every footfall displacing the freshly fallen snow and vibrating the windowpanes of the houses around them. They felt powerful, untouchable, in charge.
It was the middle of the night, but the snow lit the streets with a glimmering aura, guiding Riley where they needed to go. They had three stops to make — three houses occupied by men who had harmed them this year.
The men all lived alone, no partners or children or pets to speak of who might be disturbed by a half-Riley, half-goat creature barging into their dwelling. Riley stormed their homes without guilt, plucking the tiny men up by their toes, dangling them in front of the fireplace before putting them in the satchel. Each of the men peered at Riley, bleary-eyed, pleading with them. Riley just smirked. They decided that tonight, these men would not have names. They were simply A, B, and C, and they were Riley’s for the taking.
Riley could feel their power growing with every man they scooped into the satchel. By the time A, B, and C were all clattering around in there, bumping into sticks and making pitiful cries of fear, Riley felt like they could move mountains with a single breath or crack open the earth with the stomp of a foot.
After a long walk, they reached their final destination: a vast open field just on the outskirts of town. Riley turned the satchel upside down, shaking the men out like sprinkles, sticks falling around and on top of them. With an outstretched hand, Riley directed A, B, and C to get on their knees, but they stood in front of Riley, frozen, seemingly suspended mid-motion, mouths agape.
Riley could feel the growl begin in their hands and feet. It traveled through their body with increasing momentum, echoing through their veins and reverberating in their skull. Riley creaked open their jaws and released the booming roar, bringing their right foot down to the ground at the same time with unbelievable strength.
The earth split open before them.
Riley picked up the birch sticks, bundling them together in their hands. They walked toward the men unhurriedly, savoring the look of terror in their eyes. Pushing each man to the ground, Riley spanked A with the bundle of sticks, then B, then C. They did so over and over and over again until the men’s asses were covered in welts and ice burns. Riley wiped their hands clean of bits of twigs and snow, admiring their handiwork laid out before them. It was really quite a festive scene, if you thought about it — A, B, and C turned the color of holly berries, snow falling around them, bells jingling from Riley’s chains. All they needed was a big green bow to tie it all together, a near-perfect Christmas present. But something was missing.
One by one, Riley swatted the men into the gaping hole, relishing hearing their voices grow fainter and fainter as they tumbled down into the underworld. There. Perfect.
Riley cleared their throat. They were emboldened by the evening’s events. A, B, and C were taken care of. Now, for the rest of the alphabet…
Riley woke with a stir the next morning, an ache in their neck and their feet hanging off the couch. That’ll teach me not to drink hard liquor before bed, they thought. I haven’t had a dream that intense since college. Riley slowly rose from the disheveled mess of cushions, pillows, and blankets, turning the bottle of spiced rum on the coffee table around as if to pretend it wasn’t there. They staggered awkwardly to the kitchen, in need of caffeine to jolt their system. As Riley brewed a fresh pot, they stretched their tired body toward the east-facing window, then toward the door — wait.
Riley’s heavy-duty winter boots sat by the back door, covered in fresh snow. A satchel of birch sticks lay next to them.