Status Updates From Sentient Claus

Santa is literally written as a caricature of men. It would be funny if it wasn’t so pathetic.

But then, a sound cuts through the night. A soft, familiar chime, and it’s not from anyone’s balls or anal toys. The bells echo through the night air, chiming twelve times for midnight. It’s officially Christmas Eve.

“Fuck you both,” Santa groans, the arrogance still high and mighty in his voice.
“Fuck us both? As you wish.”

His wet muscle remains out, catching every drop of her. Santa swirls her cream around, swishing it like he’s tasting a fine wine. He’s a man who loves food, and right now his favorite snack is Madame Claus.

Gertie stood by, silently letting him walk all over humanity while he decided that labeling others as naughty or nice is Santa’s divine right.

But punishing people for reading? For enjoying stories that bring them comfort or make them feel alive?

He’s immediately met with a list of trigger warnings featuring phrases and abbreviations he’s never encountered before. Words like impact play, consensual sensory deprivation, and CEI (cum eating instructional).

When I earnestly ask, ‘What happened to good books?’ and ‘Who’s letting this shit get published?’, these people get so defensive. My notifications pop off with some crap about patriarchy and misogyny, or calling me a troll. Which is ridiculous because I’m clearly part elf, not a troll.

I’ve put them all on the Naughty List this year. Smut writers and readers alike.

Suck My Mistletoes

I hate to admit it, but there’s been a sixty-nine percent jump in names moving from the Nice List to the Naughty List.