Authors: Mykles Jet
REINDEER GAMES 2:
TOYS FOR GOOD GIRLS
contains sexually explicit
nsidered offensive to
Reindeer Games 2: Toys for Good Girls
Copyright © November 2011 by Jet Mykles
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Editor: Raven McKnight
Cover Artist: P. L. Nunn
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Nine tiny shapes flew together in perfect unison through the cloudless sky. Bok juggled the box he held to one arm so he could shield his eyes against the bright summer sun with the other hand. He couldn’t describe the patterns the team made in the sky or tell if their timing was off; he saw only perfection as they galloped through the air as though they had invisible wings. No harnesses strapped their furry bodies, and no sled followed behind. It was the off-season, and the reindeer had three more months before they’d start their time-travel jaunts to deliver toys to the humans’ world. Three months to practice and train for the nightly task that put them a step above any other elf in Santa’s Village. Well, any other elf except Santa and Mrs. Claus, of course.
Bok’s best friend, Lon, stood beside him in the open double doors of the spacious barn where the reindeer would meet once their workout was done. A recent renovation had modified the interior of the barn. One side had been expanded to make room for eight stalls outfitted to cater to both shapes of the members of the team. Feeding troughs and hay bins were mounted in each, alongside narrow but comfortable benches with soft, sumptuous cushions. Cabinets that held brushes and hoof picks were right next to vanities with hairbrushes and makeup. Bok could scarcely comprehend how anyone could be comfortable with two body shapes or how any mind could wrap around being a furry, flying reindeer one minute and a hairless, pointy-eared elf the next, but then again, having a mind capable of that made those nine people special.
“Here they come,” someone to Lon’s right murmured unnecessarily. At least a dozen other people besides Bok and Lon stood in the doorway, watching shamelessly. Each one of them had some valid excuse to be there, some reason to speak to a reindeer. Some, like Lon, were in a relationship with one of those wonderful creatures and had a standing invitation to be present when practice was over. Others were relationship hopefuls or at least one-night-stand hopefuls.
The reindeer were a lusty lot—as though the physical exertion in their four-footed forms translated to sexual excess in their two-footed ones—and there were more than enough willing partners in Santa’s Village to keep them satisfied.
“This is my favorite part.” Someone else sighed as the reindeer began a gradual, spiraling descent. Down a gently curving slope from the barn stretched a vast meadow. Snow covered the land in all seasons at the North Pole, the elves’ plane of existence a place of magical construct rather than natural balance. Despite the relative warmth of the spring air, drifts of chilly powder blanketed the ground.
“The landing?” asked the first voice. Bok didn’t look to identify the speakers. He didn’t want to miss a moment of the spectacle before him. The reindeer were almost there, their feet just a few yards above the snow. Angled in a straight line toward the barn as they were, it was possible to see them all, arranged in four pairs behind Rudolph, like they were running down a steep hill.
“Okay, no.” A chuckle. “The landing’s great. But I like what comes right
the landing best.”
“I can agree with that.”
Various grunts, murmurs, and chuckles noted the agreement of the others standing there.
Bok and Lon added their own to the mix.
Touchdown. Snowy powder flew as first Rudolph, then Dasher and Dancer, then the rest finally succumbed to gravity. When all nine bodies were down, they slowed into a canter, then a trot. Bok couldn’t for the life of him tell how the lead reindeer knew when Donner and Blitzen hit the snow, but they did. Their collective timing was impeccable. But then, this team had been together for two seasons now. Perhaps the magic that allowed them to shift and gave them flight also gave them other senses about one another. Not for the first time, Bok regretted that he wasn’t the type to try out for the team. He’d been old enough three seasons ago when there had been a spot to fill, but he knew his limitations. Any elf could try out for the team, but there wasn’t a chance for a tubby computer nerd to join Santa’s elite.
The trot turned into a brisk walk, but still the reindeer remained in formation until eventually they all came to a complete stop. A few tossed their antlers in the air, and most of them pawed impatiently at the ground. The audience in the barn held its collective breath. Bok could feel the anticipation in the air.
Dasher trumpeted. Eight throats followed suit. A mild electric charge filled the air. Then, almost in sync, each of the reindeer bodies shimmered into what looked like a cloud of snowflakes. When it was over, the reindeer were gone, and nine naked people stood in the snow.
Nine bodies, some with skin nearly as pale as the snow, some various shades darker, tormented Bok as he watched them break formation. Five men and four women wearing only the silver medallions that signified their rank, each of them a prime example of everything an elf could be.
At a few inches over five feet, Rom was the tallest. He was also Dasher, their leader. Sleekly muscled and milky pale, with a long, full mane of sky blue hair, Rom was everything Bok wished he could be when he ever had thoughts of a more physical way of life. Or perhaps he’d rather be like Lon’s boyfriend, Wod. As Dancer, he was second in command and could easily have been the leader. Where Rom was sparkling light, Wod was a darker creature, and not just because his skin was a light caramel and his waist-length hair was dark mahogany. No, Wod and those like him—the darker-skinned elves—all had an air of mystery about them, even if every one of them had been born and raised in the village. Knowing his friend, Bok could easily see Lon’s attraction to the almost wicked-looking elf. But Bok didn’t go for men himself. Although most elves experimented freely both ways, Bok had never felt the urge to take up with another guy. Women were his fascination. He liked curves, breasts, and hips. He preferred to sink his cock into soft, wet pussies.
. His mouth watered as his eyes focused on the current female of his dreams.
Tanty. Vixen. Knowing the humans’ definition of the word, Bok thought her aptly named. Her abundance of silky hair was certainly a foxy orange. No, actually, it was several shades lighter and brighter, more neon than any naturally occurring color in the humans’ world. Laughing, she reached up to pull that hair back behind her slim shoulders, fully baring her small, pert breasts to the sun and to his gaze. Her trim waist flared into wonderfully wide hips over beautifully muscled legs. Between those legs was a small, trimmed patch of orange Bok ached to taste even as he reminded himself it’d probably never happen.
The reindeer started up the slope that would take them to the barn. Unhurried, they talked and laughed among themselves, barely paying attention to the fact that they had an audience.
Bok was comfortable ogling Tanty from afar because he wasn’t the only one hungrily watching the team approach, but as they got closer, he moved to the side and averted his gaze. He didn’t want to make it
obvious. Lon knew who he was watching, which meant Wod probably knew as well, but Bok trusted them to keep his secrets.
But he was watching when Tanty looked up. She was close enough that he could see the indigo of her irises when her eyes opened wide and her bright orange brows crowded her hairline as her gaze dropped to the box he held with both arms. A huge grin curled her pink lips away from startling white, perfectly straight teeth. “Toys!” Even though he sensed it coming, Tanty’s shriek still startled Bok. Yor, the male reindeer at her side, flinched at the sound but broke into a good-natured smile as the diminutive Tanty broke away from the pack and sped up the slope. Heedless of the temperature—since elves didn’t really feel the cold much—and of her nudity, she flew over the drifts like a bird, her Vixen medallion jangling between perky, bouncy breasts. Her tangerine hair mimicked the burst of flame that gave a rocket speed.
Out of the corner of his eye, Bok saw Lon startle. “Wow. I’ve never seen her that excited.” Neither had Bok, and he wasn’t anywhere near prepared for the effect seeing it had on him.