The Night Before Christmas 3

Chapter 3

Cupid had straightened by then, clearly having recovered from any lingering humiliation she might’ve felt while squatting for me. If anything, she seemed energized, tossing a quick glance over her shoulder at Dancer before finishing the last bite of her Pig in a Blanket. Within moments, she was back to her usual self, commanding attention as if nothing had happened.

“Don’t hog all the attention with your snacks, Dancer. I’ve got a reputation to uphold here! My nephew just knocked me down a peg, and even my husband, Rider, agreed I’m getting too big for the pants I don’t wear,” she said, pointing to her bare legs.

I felt a little bad for my aunt’s theatrics. It seemed like I had embarrassed her.

Dancer didn’t miss a beat, shooting her an exaggeratedly offended look. “Oh, I’m the snack-bitch? I’ll take whatever attention I can get, sweetie. Three hundred sixty-four days a year, I don’t get to play this game! He can make me squat anytime he wants, as long as everybody watches ME!” She punctuated her words with a dramatic roll of her eyes, her tone dripping with mock exasperation.

Dancer was gorgeous, but in a room of big, beautiful blonde women, she was just “one of the girls.”

Comet—Mom—jumped in from across the room, unable to resist stirring the pot. “What about Thanksgiving, Halloween, and that week you spent at Hedonism III with Eddie? That was all in the last few months!”

Cupid brushed her hands together to clear off crumbs, smoothing her hair like nothing had happened as she regained the spotlight.

Dancer gasped theatrically, clutching her chest like she’d been mortally wounded. “Sure, but Christmas is special, Comet! Now, quit complaining and put another wiener in your mouth.”

The room erupted into laughter. Cupid spun toward Mom, who was already obliging with a grin. She squatted down dramatically, her knees spread wide and opened her mouth in an exaggerated gesture. “There’s my baby bird,” Cupid cooed, leaning in. “Open wide, blue eyes!”

Mom did exactly that, letting her sister feed her a hot Pig in a Blanket while everyone around them cheered and chuckled. Cupid gave her a playful wink before moving on to the next snack delivery, leaving Mom to stand and smooth out her dress with an amused shake of her head.

The moment left me feeling more confused than anything else. I blurted out, “So, are you guys slaves or something?”

The room quieted for half a second as Mom choked on her drink, coughing as she waved her hand dismissively. “What? No! Why would you even think that?”

I gestured vaguely toward the women kneeling or squatting around the room. “I don’t know … it’s just … you’re all down there, and they’re all up here.”

Mom’s expression softened, and she glanced around the room before answering. “It’s more about roles we take on for the night. The women serve because that’s the theme of the Twatmas party—it’s our way of making it special. Trust me, it’s not forced or serious, and if anyone didn’t want to join in, they wouldn’t.”

Daisy—Cupid—joined the conversation, her grin still mischievous but her tone less teasing. “Exactly, sugar. It’s about giving the party a little extra flair. Sure, the women are down here tonight, but believe me, we run just as much of this show as anyone else.”

Mom nodded in agreement. “No one is here against their will. You’re the only one here against my will, and your dad overruled me, at least for now. We do this because we enjoy it. We’ve been doing it for years, and it evolves every year. Tomorrow, we’ll be bossing the men around to help clean up and put everything back where it belongs. Tonight, just happens to be about the fun of playing a role. It’s a Christmas gift to the men in our lives. We let them boss us around, tease us, play their games, even come up with party rules to keep things lively—but it’s just for the night before Christmas.”

I still didn’t get it—especially with my mother referring to herself as a Twat and pointing to her shaved pussy. I’d never seen her fully nude before, or even topless.

My sister rolled her eyes but decided to chime in. “Nick, the girls are the ‘Twatmas Twats’ for tonight—which means we serve the men.”

That sounded like bondage and slavery to me, but I really had no firsthand experience with any of that kind of stuff.

Harley pointed to her bald pussy and explained, “Anyone with a twat at the party is a reindeer girl, and we play reindeer games. We aren’t slaves. We’re reindeer, and we’ve each been assigned a rider that we have to take extra special care of. That’s why I’m here.” Harley patted the older man’s leg lovingly and nodded toward Evan, who had Prancer kneeling next to him. “My DSL sister Prancer is taking care of my boyfriend in return!”

“Hey!” Prancer waved at me, proudly.

I wasn’t sure if I should wave back—it felt like she was saying hi to me. I waved awkwardly and smiled. The girls at the party were ultra-friendly and outgoing. The only ones who seemed a little more grounded were my sister and Blitzen. Even my mother was outgoing with everyone else at the party—laughing it up and smiling like she was in a beauty pageant.

“If it helps to think of us as slaves, that’s fine, but we prefer the term Twats,” my sister said. “Because 364 days out of the year, we can be bitches, sluts, saints, or whatever we want—but not tonight. Anyone who comes to this party with one of these”—she drew my eye to her bald pussy with a finger—”has to serve someone with a dick between his legs,” she said, pointing to me. “It’s just a game. Tomorrow, I’m nobody’s slave. I’ll be back to doing Christmas with you as your big sister. And whatever happens tonight, it’s like Fight Club—don’t talk about Fight Club. It stays here between us. Do that, and maybe next year you’ll get invited back—without sneaking in.”

I couldn’t look at my sister’s pussy while she explained all this. I tried looking anywhere else, but all I saw were bare titties, asses, and bald pussies in all directions. Girls crouched, sitting on their butts, or carrying around trays of Christmas cakes.

My mom added, “I know what it looks like, Nick. It’s not slavery—it’s entirely consensual. Call it … playful servitude, if that helps.”

“Playful servitude?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Yep,” Harley said, her tone light but direct. “It’s part of the whole ‘gift’ thing. Think of it like this: for one night, we’re their designated Reindeer. But it’s a Christmas gift—it’s meant to be fun. Are you having fun, little brother?”

Before I could say anything, Eddie leaned over with a mischievous smirk. “You can join ‘em, if you aren’t having a blast, buddy. I’ve got a red clown nose in my van. Don’t ask me why.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but Daisy beat me to it, her drawl as sharp as ever. “I am not dressing up in the clown suit again, sweetness. That was a one-time deal, after you bought me the dress I wanted.”

“Spoilsport. See how badly your Aunt treats me?” Eddie was clearly being facetious. There was obvious love between them. I wasn’t sure why he’d want my aunt in a clown get-up, but given all I had seen tonight, I had a few theories.

The group laughed, and I shifted uncomfortably, not entirely sure whether to laugh along or ask more questions. Everything about this felt both completely absurd and strangely … normal, like I’d stepped into an alternate universe where my family and neighbors embraced a new set of rules for the night.

“Twats the night before Christmas,” Eddie announced in a booming voice to the partygoers. Everyone turned to look at him. “Five minutes to the first Reindeer game! Mistletoe Kissing Roulette, which is a fuck-ton more fun than Russian Roulette!”

“You tell that joke every year,” one of the men yelled out, adding, “When are you going to actually play it so we can get someone to run the show with new material?”

“Fuck you, Harold!” Eddie shot back with a smirk, knowing exactly who had said it.

“His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, and the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.”

Eddie had two bottles of tequila. “One for spinning, one for drinking—and when we’ve finished that one, we’ll spin the empty bottle and drink the other one,” he promised his rowdy friends.

I didn’t drink, and I wasn’t old enough to drink. I noticed my sister cheered, though—she wasn’t old enough to drink either. I wondered if my mom wouldn’t mind if she did.

He also had a stick with mistletoe hanging from it, which he held over people’s heads when it was time for them to kiss.

The laughter around the room quieted as Eddie took center stage, twirling the mistletoe stick dramatically. “Alright, folks! Dasher, naughty box time is over.”

Woo-hoo!” Dasher exclaimed, popping to her feet.

Eddie smirked. “But you know how this works during games—nose to the floor, butt up.”

“Awww,” Dasher groaned, but she dutifully complied, lowering herself with a dramatic flair. Her nose grazed the floor, her rear raised high. “Happy now?”

“Thrilled,” Daisy teased, swatting Dasher’s beautiful big ass, playfully before taking her seat to my right. I was sandwiched between my aunt and my mom, who sat stiffly on my left, her polished demeanor in full force.

“Great. I’m between the same person, just polar opposites,” I muttered under my breath.

Cupid leaned in; her grin as wide as her mischief. “Alright, ground rules! Tonight, I am not your Aunt.