Sleighless Ch 03

Fur and Bones

Nick could feel them emerging from the new openings in his head; they grew out of them quickly, stretching his skin wide and branching into the air above him.

He knew what they were.

Byron's words lay fresh on his mind. It all made sense. Just like his cock, Vixen had invaded him. Clouded his mind. Taken his dick and gave him an empty feeling in his pelvis to replace it. And now she weighed heavy on his head. Like all sleigh drivers she always had a big rack.

He reached his delicate hands to the hard extensions of his skull. Their covering was soft. Velvety. He followed them down to his head and wrapped his hands around them like handlebars. He held on and relaxed his arms, feeling their weight added to the growth of bone. They were strong. Nick's tall frame receded rapidly to contribute to their birth.

"Oh fuck... my feet..."

His headache lifted to be replaced by a pleasurable crackling in his toes. It sounded like a fire had been set beneath him. He held onto his antlers tightly as the joints in his feet seized together into four distinct segments. He moaned and kicked his boots off into the vortex around him. They floated away to be lost forever as black boney masses stretched and then tore through his striped Christmas socks.

Soft brown hair grew from his heels, up the length of his leg, and over his toes. The coat of hair stopped in a line encircling his mid thigh, replacing his socks with stockings of chestnut fur. It was the same color as the fur growing from the edges of his ears. They lengthened, poking out cutely from his platinum tresses.

Her

Nick's nails were now as long as Emma's – if not longer. He could feel them pushing from their beds as they grew over his fingertips. Lovely long black nails. A compromise. A result of the genetic upheaval within.

Back at the North Pole, in their bedroom, Mrs. Claus lay on a mountain of pillows. She had taken her stockings off. Ringlets of strawberry blonde hair fell around her shoulders and over her ample cleavage. Emma had just painted the nails of her hands and feet and was waiting with palms outstretched and toes wiggling as they finished drying.

---

Nick dropped a hand from around his antlers to his crotch, and settled his middle finger into the divot between his pussy lips just in time to feel his labia bloom slightly from his tight new crevice. He pressed his finger harder into the indentation. He could make out a familiar bud of sensitive flesh throbbing beneath it.

I have no dick.

He caressed his pussy and let it sink in.

I. have. no. dick.

But he didn't need to touch himself to know his dick was gone. Its absence resonated in every part of him. I have no dick. I have no dick inside of me. He moved his finger over the crotch of his suit. It would need to come off soon.

His muffled moans resonated deep in the egg-filled chambers of his ovaries and in the darkness of his new womb.

---

In their bedroom, Emma removed the cotton balls from between her toes. Her nails were dry. She held her hands down in front of her and admired her fingernails – perfect for wrapping around Nick's cock when he returned. Or digging into his back.

Nick brought his lithe hands to his face, admiring his nails. Not for their beauty but for their utility.

His suit was constricting his thighs and buttocks, hugging them firmly, but his suit wasn't to blame. Primed by the estrogen flooding in his body from his new ovaries, his subcutaneous fat began a great migration, abandoning his belly to fill his ass, hips and thighs. New curves swelled within his suit, straining the fabric, pulling the threads apart and exposing the tight skin beneath.

The fabric around his legs gave way first. Great tears formed in the thighs of the jumpsuit and his flesh billowed out of them seductively. He sighed, grateful for the release of pressure. But the relief was short lived.

Around his middle, his suit was refusing to surrender to the onslaught of his expanding ass, imprisoning the masses of bulging flesh as they grew outward. His swelling cheeks stretched the fabric uncomfortably around his crotch. The vice tightened and his pussy lips pressed together. He could feel his heart beating between them. His tail stiffened.

Nick rushed his hands behind him, slapping his palms down firmly to grip a cheek in each before digging his fingers into the fabric of his suit. He clawed at the fabric with his long nails, desperate to penetrate it. Finally a nail punctured through, and then a second nail. He kept slashing until ten tiny tears were cut into the suit. His ass swelled. Threads gave way. The small tears lengthened.

He curled his fingers into the holes and pulled, being careful not to break his nails. The fabric tore. He grunted and pulled again. There was a loud ripping sound as his ass finally bounced free into the cold air behind him, his bulbous cheeks simultaneously jiggling like bowls full of jelly. It fell still, its cheeks full and tight, a significant curve to his tiny frame. He moaned a sigh of relief and ran the tips of his long black nails over his new booty.

---

Emma slid from their bed and walked to her boudoir mirror. She didn't know it yet, but she was a good five inches taller than her husband, and in moments he would have a monthly cycle — and it would be in sync with hers.

In the shallows of Nick's pussy the head of his penis had softened and settled in as the gatekeeper of his sex. His cervix. It was flushed and wet and at its center, the hole — through which he had fired load after load of semen into Emma before — opened, ready to accept a payload from the next invading cock to grace his entrance. A flood of sticky feminine juices poured from his womb and through the tender opening, intermingling with the remaining semen within his vagina before seeping out of his swollen pussy lips.

Nick's senses intensified. He could hear Byron fidgeting in his chair and Tinsel on the floor of the control room repeating her ohmygod's over and over. He could smell the sweet bouquet of his new pussy. His long eyelashes flicked open. The spectrum of his vision had widened. Pristine waves of ultraviolet light, once invisible, came pouring into view. Every sensation was beautiful and new. The fog lifted from his mind.

---

Emma traced her hands down her neck, around her breasts, and to her panties. She wove her fingers around the waist and let them drop to the floor, before straining behind her to release the clasp of her bra. Her round tits fell in a bounce in front of her.

Nick could see his nipples poking into his suit. They looked bigger. What was happening to him? He tore his nails into his suit again, ripping it from his chest, freeing his nipples to poke into the darkness. They were thick and engorged, and around them his pink areolas were becoming wide, swollen and puffy. He gazed at his chest expectantly — wonderful memories of Emma's breasts flooded into his mind.

Nick pleaded with his body. "Please... please..." He wanted them to come... to be just like hers. Please. The thought made his labia wet.

He rushed his hands beneath him and ripped his suit again, exposing his wet pussy to the air. His tail wagged expectantly. He settled his palm over his mound and waited for his new tits to appear.

Emma slipped back into the covers of the bed.

Their fingers hovered over their swollen entrances, and then, together, they plunged their fingers in.

Large and In Charge

She had never remembered it being within reach. Years of annoyance at trying to find a door knob or pole to rub against during her heats had vanished in an instant. She moved her fingers at a maddening speed over her clit. She smiled. Her eyebrows arched. Drool ran from the corner of her mouth. In moments she was there. Time stopped. Then a tremor coursed through her body. Then it became an earthquake.

She threw her neck back feeling the heaviness of her antlers behind her. She bucked madly, holding hard onto her crotch, riding out her orgasm like a cowgirl riding a wild steer. Her collar jingled loudly around her neck. She moaned loudly.

"I am setting the coordinates," Byron cried, knowing he had to do something about this. "I'm going to teleport you back."

She screamed desperately over her orgasm. "No!"

"No? But..."

"No!" She hated to yell at Byron but something within her told her she was in charge now. She didn't want to go anywhere. And she would get what she wanted.

"But sir..."

She gripped her pussy and screamed wildly. "I'm not going back, Byron! I'm not fucking going back!" she moaned loudly. "And don't call me 'sir'!"

And with that, as if responding to her acceptance of the creature she was becoming, the flesh beneath her nipples swelled. Excitement filled her body. Her breaths became short. Her breasts were budding.

"Yes! Oh fuck yes!"

She watched enraptured as her breasts expand from her chest. The spurts came and went. A push forward then a pause. Her skin pulling tight. Her areolas widening. Her flesh being filled. A swell of a gland. An incursion of fat. Each advance sending her nipples further in front of her.

In no time two perky domes rose from her chest. But this wasn't enough. She wanted them to hang. To overflow. To weigh on her back. To get in the way. She didn't want boobs. She wanted tits. And she would have them. She coaxed them on. She begged them to keep growing. And in no time they hung large from her. She swayed her hips, and her breasts swayed on their own accord. Her nipples hardened in the cold air.

She took them in her hands as best she could. There was too much flesh to hold. Flesh bulged between her fingers. She pulled her tits apart and looked at her crotch. Then pushed them together and ogled her cleavage.

She imagined pressing something hard between them.

Borrowing a bra from her wife. Oiling them up before bed.

They were perfect breasts; perfect for everything she suddenly wanted to do.

"Guys! I have breasts!" chirped a sweet feminine voice.

"That's great!" Byron clicked off the mic. "Keep an eye on the control deck and an ear on him. Her. Santa-Vixen. Whatever the fuck he is now. I'm going to fetch Mrs. Claus. This is really getting out of hand."

Tinsel shot him a dirty look. "Out of hand? You don't say, Byron!" She stood up and reengaged the mic. "Hold tight, boss. I'll be right back. I need to get something."

A long distracted moan answered her back. Tinsel rolled her eyes and walked to the rear of the control room to fetch her knapsack.

Byron ran to the door and put on his heavy winter coat. "So are you going to be okay in here?"

Tinsel turned to Byron. She stood completely still. She glared into his eyes and gritted her teeth, her little hands forming into fists.

Byron smiled nervously and rushed out the door calling out behind him, "I'm leaving! I'm leaving!"