Birching

by LucaWLee

After hearing about the tale of the Krampus in the Swiss Alps, a young man heads off the beaten trail.

“But it is only a rumour, sir?”

“Aye. He and I would walk down these same trails here,” the old-timer grins, swatting away at low chestnut saplings.

“He didn’t get lost here, did he?” I ask.

“No, no. Left on ‘is own. But if yer to ask me, I say it’s horseshit. Tale fer the wives t’feed the kids.”

“They really were birched?”

Antoine is telling me an Alpine fairy tale. He tells me of Krampus, the devil that spanked kids and ate them for wandering too far from the village. They’d turn into little Krampus elves, forever forgotten in the mountains.

“Like I tell ya, horseshit.”

I miscalculate and slip on some polished ice, carefully disguised with a fresh dusting of delicate snow.

“Careful,” he warns.

Soft sunlight filters through the pines, rainbows scattering dazzlingly across white powder. My breath swirls gently in the chilled Swiss air, dancing around my rosy cheeks.

The gentle curvature of the trail plummets suddenly, craggy rocks bounding towards a sapphire-coloured lake, small waves lapping against the rocks.

“Good place to cool off,” he grunts.

His name is Antoine. He’s got a salt-and-pepper beard and a gentle smile. He pulls off the many layers that keep him warm, and ripples of tantalizing abs and supple pectorals bounce into the azure water.

“The ice water puts a hair on your chest. C’mon.”

I can’t help but notice the bare-naked ass that sways into the crystal depths in front of me. Must be a European tradition. What can I do? I copy and strip.

I think to myself that the air is damn cold, but the water takes my breath away. I shiver, treading water, gasping sharp, chilled breaths as Antoine laughs. He brushes his legs against mine and I blush—I can feel his rippling quads against my crotch and abdomen.

I make the mistake of looking down at his crotch. He’s got an immense cock that practically barrels out of pelvis, and even in an ice-water-shrinking situation, his flaccid length dwarfs over his orange-sized testicles.

“Swim, ye’ll warm up,” Antoine says, grabbing my crotch. Fuck, he’s making me so hard!

And he’s a fast swimmer! I drag myself through the waters, doing a sort of perverted front crawl but gasping for air because the temperature is so cold. In the distance, I see Antoine’s rippling back flying across the lake.

I need to catch up. Antoine, like a machine, is already a speck in the distance, the radiating sun blotting my vision. I shield my eyes for a split-second and take a stab at the approximate direction he flees to, paddling like mad.

Gasping, my lungs scream, knives in my throat, I take big gulps of the freshwater. The water spins around and around as I swim deeper and deeper.

“Antoine?”

I can’t see the bottom anymore. Around me, the glacial mountains spin, taunting me. Where the hell…?

“Antoine!”

Dizzy. My fingers are numb and webbed, coloured with map-like blue veins. I breaststroke forward, cold, so cold…

“Antoine!”

The first piece of granite cuts deep into my knee. Blood trickles out and muddies the water. I curse, not knowing when I reached shore in my hypothermic daze. The harsh white sky whizzes around me, my ears ring. My nose and forehead have gone prickly. And then–

Soft smoke. Fire, from a small cave in the distance.

“Antoine!”

I rush forward, blood and all. The cave is unsuspecting, dingy. Low stalactites droop from the ceiling. A strange, damp odour decorates the walls. The flame itself is neatly packed between a circle of decorative rocks, gently lapping against tinder—some pine, but mostly birch wood.

Birch wood…

Snarling behind me. Hot breath on my neck as two massive claws grapple onto my shoulders. I’m hoisted up by a being of immense strength, who lowers me onto a stone, face first, ass up.

Smack! The birch rod connects, my raw ass reddening, shuddering as I try to draw all the pain in…crack! The beast is unrelenting, smiting my buttocks with the sticks. It stings horribly, pain across the entirety of my lower half, and the beast walks around and stands in front of me.

Two massive, spiraled, jet-black horns jut out from a grizzled face with angular, disturbed eyes that glow radially, reflecting the firelight. His traps jut out from his broad neck, deftly weaving across his deltoids that wrap around burly arms and striated forearms.

And the chest, mottled with shaggy black hair that radiates potent masculinity, completely bound together with mountains of steely pectoral flesh that ease into rolling abdominals and obliques that scintillate like armor.

But the true horror is the massive, dark, ribbed cock that stands blazingly erect, jutting out from over massive cum factories of testicles that churn precum spraying and sputtering into my agape mouth.

The beast gives me no more time to stare in awe, as he shoves what he can into my throat, my esophagus bulging luridly with each thrust. Krampus is unfazed, eyes wild, groaning, and my eyes roll back into my head, focusing on trying to breathe through musk and pre-ejaculate and an immense mountain of fleshy cock. He thrusts once more, and a torrential jet of thick alabaster cream erupts from his cockhead, cascading down my stomach. I sputter and cough.

Krampus, however, is unsatisfied. Perhaps it was because I only got a quarter of his cock wet. Perhaps he didn’t feel I was drenched enough in bestial sperm. Either way, he flips saunters back into the position where he birched me, and caresses my hole with the tip of his cock.

I feel the residual cum from his previous climax oozing down my leg. He grunts, sizing me up, placing his testicles on mine. I can feel an immense weight of cock on my back, his cock sliding up to my shoulder blades. He will split me in half.

Pain and pleasure radiate from my ass upwards, out from my intestines, through my stomach. I gag and groan as he slams into me once again, breaking barriers I didn’t know existed, twisting and thrashing, using the incessant amount of cum that decorates my face and the front of the stone as lubricant.

He cums again, with the same firehose intensity, each cumburst covering my hole with bucket loads of cum so quickly that I feel completely sated. Satiated and dizzy, the smell blanketing the entire cavern so that the birchwood-smoke is merely an afterthought.

“My little elf. His voice is harsh, full of clicks and guttural noises. Yet it soothes me, makes my hair stand up a little, and my cock just a little stiffer.

And stiffer. And even stiffer. And I realize that the pain across my ass and abdomen and throat from becoming Krampus’s glorified cocksleeve has been transformed into pulsating pleasure that prickles the insides of my brain. Liquified ecstasy dances around my eyes, and a strange, massive, pulsating, pump echoes through each fiber of my muscles like an electrifying jolt.

I gasp. What is happening? My pecs are ballooning outwards, my biceps are rolling outwards, sagging against their own weight. Thick juicy deltoids careen around my neck as I howl with raw unbridled testosterone. Below, quads and calves spill out like magic, cementing my presence.

I grit my teeth as my package pummels into the rock, angrily expanding with veins and throbbing out precum with every second. Massive walls of testicles groan and sigh as they jostle to support the garish mountain of meat that practically flies out from under me.

And I’m crescendoing into an orgasm that might rival Krampus, the sheer weight of my cock, aggressively spiraling into my chest, so sensitive and erotic that it could send me over the edge at the drop of a dime.

Krampus smacks me with the bundle of birch sticks again. My muscles stiffen, taut, and I flex my jaw-dropping chest and abs and shoulders, rippling with newfound energy down to the base of my fat cock, which spurns forward with Krampus’s gift.

A tidal wave of semen blasts into the ceiling of the cavern, rocks falling across me as I shower the roof with thick juices that rain down on the two hulking creatures stooped inside. Another blast of cum sends Krampus stumbling from the sheer force and volume, his face twinkling and smirking devilishly as he laps up my potent seed. He joins me in a monstrous orgasm—stream after stream of cum splattering and obliterating the cave, the walls slathered with so much potent spunk that the smell is intoxicating.

“My little elf,” Krampus coos again, as he lathers my length with seed.

I grin. And I salute my already stiffening cock, feet worth of manliness towards Krampus almighty, destined to become a little Krampus elf, forever forgotten in the mountains.

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