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. She is not your Mom. And if anyone dares to say ‘Aunt,’ ‘Mom,’ or ‘Sister,’ they’re headed straight to the Naughty Corner. Agreed?”

A unanimous chorus of “aye” rang out, even Mrs. Stephenson reluctantly nodding along about a new “Reindeer Rule” which could earn the girls time on the naughty corner. I wasn’t sure why even the women were celebrating it. I didn’t see why it only applied to the women.

Eddie raised the bottle of tequila, the other bottle in his hand like a trophy. “Tequila for the brave. For those too young or too chicken, we’ve got eggnog, no wait, that’s got Southern comfort in it, but not nearly as much. But if you’re playing, you’re committing—lips, butt, or backyard. Pick only one!”

“Cheaper than therapy,” Dad quipped dryly, earning laughter from the room. I wasn’t sure what that meant.

“Alright!” Daisy clapped. “Quit the yammering and start the spinning!”

The first spin stopped on Harley and Jerry. I stiffened, watching my sister’s face flush as Jerry extended a hand to help her up. She shot me an uncertain glance but then accepted, allowing Jerry to pull her into an embrace.

Their kiss wasn’t brief or shy. Jerry cupped her face with one hand while the other rested lightly on her waist. Harley didn’t hold back either; she leaned into him, her arms wrapping around his neck as their lips met. It wasn’t just a peck—it was deep, passionate, with tongues involved. The room erupted into a mix of cheers and whistles, and I couldn’t help but wonder if Harley really liked Jerry or if she was just an incredible actress.

They didn’t mess around at this party – I got the most awkward chubby in my pants, just watching my sister kiss this total stranger.

When they finally broke apart, Harley’s face was glowing, her blush unmistakable as she retook her seat. She reached for a shot of tequila, but Mom’s voice cut through the noise. “Nope!”

Harley pouted dramatically. “Half?”

“Oh c’mon, she’s a reindeer; let the girl have a little. She ain’t driving nowhere, blue eyes!” Daisy pleaded.

Mom sighed, relenting. “One shot!”

Harley grinned triumphantly, throwing back the tequila while the crowd roared in approval. It was pretty obvious to me that she had definitely had tequila before!

The second spin landed on Prancer and Gary. Prancer sprang up with theatrical flair, her hands on her hips. “Well, cowboy, looks like it’s your lucky night.”

Gary chuckled, standing to meet her. “Let’s make it one to remember.”

Prancer grabbed his face with both hands, leaning in for a kiss so exaggerated it earned whistles and cheers. She broke away with a loud smooch, leaving a red lipstick print on Gary’s cheek. “Now that’s how you spread holiday cheer!” she declared, sashaying back to her seat.

I couldn’t believe it—the kissing lottery. I had never seen people so happy to kiss people they barely knew. I wondered if they would feel that way about me if someone landed on me.

The tequila spun again, this time pointing directly at Mom and Eddie.

Mom groaned, standing with the air of someone headed to the gallows. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

Eddie grinned, opening his arms wide. “C’mon, Comet. Make it magical.”

To her credit, Mom didn’t hesitate. She leaned in and gave him what looked like a proper kiss—not too long, but enough to satisfy the crowd. Her lips moved deliberately as though she was trying to sell the illusion.

When she pulled back, she wiped her lips with the back of her arm. “Your butt doesn’t taste bad!” Mom quipped, clearly joking about pretending the kiss had been on Eddie’s butt instead of his mouth, wiping her arm across her lips to get the taste out and then taking a shot of tequila because that obviously didn’t work.

Eddie could take a joke as well as make one, and he was the loudest to laugh.

The room roared with laughter as Mom sat her bare ass back on the floor, and folded her legs, smoothing her hair with as much dignity as she could muster, though her cheeks were still slightly pink from embarrassment. Eddie just grinned and winked at her, raising the tequila bottle in a mock toast.

The fourth spin landed squarely on Mrs. Stephenson—Blitzen—and Daisy—Cupid.

Daisy shot up, practically vibrating with excitement. “Oh, heck yes! This is what I’ve been waiting for.”

Mrs. Stephenson laughed nervously. “Go easy on me, Daisy.”

“No promises,” Daisy said, closing the distance between them with a predatory grin. She wrapped her arms around Blitzen and leaned in for a kiss that had the room dead silent. Daisy held it dramatically, her fingers trailing up Blitzen’s cheek, before pulling away with a flourish.

She held up ten fingers, grinning as the room erupted into cheers. “Now that’s how you kiss under the mistletoe!” she declared.

I barely had time to process the spectacle before the tequila spun again, this time pointing directly at me—and Dad.

The room exploded with laughter and whoops. “Well, son,” Dad said, his voice calm but his grin mischievous. “Looks like it’s you and me.”

I froze, my face turning crimson. “Uh...”

“Lips, butt, or backyard,” Eddie reminded me gleefully. “Your call.”

You either kiss on the open mouth, kiss on the ass, or go outside for the remainder of the mistletoe game and shiver in the nude. I feared if we had to kiss on the open mouth, did that mean on the butthole itself? Gross. I couldn’t imagine ANYONE picking the butt option.

Dad sighed, taking a tequila shot before standing. “I’ll spare you the therapy bills, son. Butt it is.”

Groaning, I reluctantly stood and lowered my jeans to expose my rear. “Jeans to the ankles,” Mom reminded me, her tone mock-stern.

Blushing furiously, I complied. Dad leaned in, planting a quick peck on my cheek.

“That’s it?” Daisy exclaimed. “Oh, c’mon, you’d have made me go for the caramel center!”

Mom crossed her arms. “You’re redoing it. You’d have made me go back, and you know it.”

Groaning again, Dad leaned in, this time planting a solid kiss that left a faint hickey on my left cheek. “There,” he said, straightening. “Happy now?”

I quickly pulled up my jeans, only to have Daisy pinch my behind. “So cute! I used to change your diaper—still looks the same!” she teased.

Mrs. Stephenson grinned. “That’s not coming off for a few days. Hope your girlfriend doesn’t mind.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” I muttered.

The DSL ladies let out an enthusiastic “Woooooo!” making me blush furiously.

“That’s my son!” Mom snapped, immediately realizing her mistake—she had just broken the new “naughty rule” the group had made. There were celebratory theatrics all around when the group decided on it, but now my mom was frowning because she was the first one to be snared by it.

I felt bad that she was in trouble because she was proud of me.

“Thank god!” Dasher said, springing up from her pose as Mom groaned, knowing what she had to do. She went nose-to-the-floor, butt up, her chest pressing against the hardwood.

For a brief moment, Mom glanced at me, and it was that look—the one that made my stomach twist with guilt, even though technically, it was her fault she was down there. Her eyes seemed to bore through me, making me question every decision that had led to this moment.

But then her face softened, a playful smirk tugging at her lips as she broke the tension. “I almost never get naughty time,” she said to no one in particular, with a sigh, her tone light and reflective but turned her head to me. “Am I ever going to live this down around you, Nick?”

I felt bad for her, I wasn’t sure what she’d have to endure whispered supportively; I met her eyes and shrugged. “It’s ... different, but you seem happy. That’s what matters, right?”

Mom shot me an endearing look of pride.

“Three slaps for the naughty!” Eddie declared with theatrical glee, holding up a brown leather strap decorated with mistletoe symbols.

The crowd joined in, counting the strikes from the leather strap like they were ringing in the New Year. “Three! Two! One!” Each swat landed with a sharp crack, followed by exaggerated groans from Mom and wild cheers from the group.

Mom flinched, letting out an exaggerated, high-pitched “Ow!” before laughing it off. “Alright, alright,

you had your fun,” she said, adjusting her position, wiping one finger quickly across her backside, and glancing up at me to see my reaction. I tried to pretend that I had not seen that.

I didn’t think the spanking was that particularly hard – it was three quick cracks with a leather strap. Mom had even seemed to enjoy it – but she did look a little mortified that I had watched.

My mom seemed to enjoy it much more than I thought she might. Comet shook her head, her big pink butt wiggling slightly as she adjusted her pose, which only made the group snicker.

Everyone else seemed to think this was all perfectly normal. I still wasn’t convinced I hadn’t stumbled into a weird holiday-wet dream. Suffice it to say; this is NOT the kind of party I thought they’d be having. It was so much more than I could have imagined. It was this weird world where every woman was nice, generous with her body, brought us snacks, seemed open to being humiliated and sitting on the floor, and would passionately kiss anyone if the tequila bottle lands the right way. The fireplace was crackling, everyone was laughing and having a good time, and I felt almost included.

I liked it, I just wasn’t entirely certain they wanted me here, and that made me feel like an outsider.