JMS Books, $3.99, ISBN 978-1634868181
Fantasy Erotica, 2018
Pembroke, our hero, is a were-stag who is living the dream as part of Santa’s reindeer herd.
HAHAHAHAHAHA… oh wait, I didn’t just imagine writing the above sentence.
There are armored walruses mentioned on the first page.
HAHAHAHAHAHA.
Anyway, a banished elf who calls himself Frost has murdered Santa. Oh no! Now, a civil war has erupted in the North Pole, as it is up to Santa’s reindeer to stand up against the evil elves.
Pembroke yipped, trying to concentrate, not on the exploding mountains of piled sugar plums, nor the approaching self-appointed king, Frost itself, flanked by a pod of walruses with sharpened tusks.
Do keep in mind that we will soon be reading about Pembroke having sex. Does he yip at the dramatic moment? I’m sure we are all dying to find out.
He lapped at the blood trickling from the limp elf sprawled below him.
Its blood, distilled with dust, proved the quickest way to a holly jolly.
Or so Kassel had always said.
What?
Pembroke let the blood, sparkly with dust, cloud his vision. The reindeer swallowed the sweetness down, his tongue lazily falling loose from his muzzle.
Wait, the blood is sparkly with dust? Sparkling, ooh.
It was the first time he had tried elf blood.
His first holly jolly.
His first… what? You know what, never mind.
Okay, so Santa is dead. But there’s still time for Pembroke to boff another stag, Kassel!
“Wow, Pembroke,” Kassel yipped, “good for you! I mean it’s true what they say; you join the Toy-Maker’s fleet and bam! It’s like merry merry! You teleport to a whole new life of jubilant deliveries!”
I… what… you know what, let me flip the pages to go straight to the bestiality. It’s what we are all here for, after all.
The Toy-Maker’s leather gloves hovering above his crown of antlers for a second, before descending down his body. His thick mane tugged, his velvety antlers gripped, tested for strength, range, and if they pointed true North. Large gloved hands roaming the planes of his fur. Squeezing the thick muscles of his legs, gauging their power for rooftop landings. Hands gripping his sides, measuring the girth of his barrow for a harness. Fingers trailing below to his underbelly and furry loins. Cupping and prodding, checking virility. Pembroke’s tail lifted, as fingers parted away fur to his exposed pink to be plumbed. Every cell twinkling at the prospect of being made ready.
Ah, I get it! This is a story for people who get their jollies from seeing animals boinking one another! No wonder I have no clue what these people are saying. It must be the secret coded language of the zoophiles or something!
His insides split open farther with a surprised yip. Carlo, with one powerful buck, shoved his cock balls deep into Pembroke. Pembroke’s sphincter tightened around Carlo. For it could do nothing else, straining to grip. The twins pumping their hips forward and back, chuffing excitedly. Pembroke felt the hot shocks of sparks raining down on his naked back. The twin’s crowns must’ve just collided above. With the dust, Pembroke felt connected.
He could feel the brothers’ identical signal, like a current of electricity, pulsing down from their joined horns, zapping through their jutting pricks, plugged into the holes of Pembroke. Pinioned between the two brothers, Pembroke’s body closed the circuit.
Wait, are they robot reindeer? If yes, that will be so awesome.
Now, if you will excuse me, I’m going to do some quick web search to see whether it’s legal for me to harbor reindeer porn in my PC. In the meantime, let me just say this: fantastic idea; I love how the whole premise is so insane that it’s oh so good, but oh my god, the ludicrous prose. All that yipping and chuffing! I’m not saying anything more, in case the cops show up and I may need to call a lawyer. Just… go look at this one if you want to see an awesome kind of train wreck.
