Crammed By Krampus

Peter’s trip to the holiday farmer's market starts of beautifully, featuring all the seasonal treats you’d hope to find. He’s having a great time until a strange creature appears, trudging down from the mountainside and eliciting a cascade of boos and hisses from the crowd. This is Krampus.

But things take an unexpected turn when Peter learns Krampus isn’t such a bad guy after all. Peter heads to Krampus’s cave to apologize, but he’s quickly swept up in an unexpected gay holi-date that gets more and more erotic by the second.

This erotic tale is 4,000 words of sizzling human on gay holiday monster action, including anal, blowjobs, rough sex, and Krampus love.

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CRAMMED BY KRAMPUS

By Chuck Tingle

There’s nothing like a great, high-quality farmers market, and I’m not just talking about the food. Sure, getting your hands on fresh produce is an absolute joy—it’s the main reason I go, after all—but what I really appreciate about a place like the market is community. It’s nice to see familiar faces, to get to know each vender and chat them up while you’re checking out various fruits and vegetables. I like to take my time, slowing things down and appreciating the sounds and sight as much as I possibly can.

Unfortunately, I’ve found myself in an unusual situation this weekend, that sense of community nowhere to be found.

There are two farmers markets here in Billings, each of them occurring at the same time but on the opposite side of town. The Billings Heights market is the one that I know and love—the one I’ve been visiting for most of my life—but this important routine has suddenly found itself the victim of circumstance.

I’ve moved.

For the briefest moment, I actually considered making the drive over to Billings Heights every weekend to continue my shopping as usual, but after the first attempt I realized that was simply too much traveling on a day that was supposed to be my time off. A pleasure. A joy.

Today, however, I’m starting another journey, exploring the local scene around my new home with my very first visit to the Frozen Lake Farmers Market. Things are off to a great start. I find myself a decent parking spot and climb

out, reusable tote bags in hand.
“Peter!” calls a familiar voice.
I turn to find my friend Norp waving excitedly and jogging over. We greet

each other with a warm hug.
“Thanks for coming,” I say.
“I wouldn’t miss it!” Norp replies. “Who else is gonna show you the ropes?” He’s joking, of course. I’m perfectly capable of navigating a farmer’s market

on my own, but there is some truth to the idea that he could help me out along the way. This is his local market after all, and while there’s not too much variation between these events, it’ll be nice to have a little help with the navigating.

As we approach the market, however, I begin to realize that my assumptions might have been off. The Frozen Lake is much different from Billings Heights.

“Is it only like this for the holidays?” I ask my friend. “Or is it always this... festive?”

“This is just how we do it here,” he replies.

I gaze up in wonder as we pass under a massive arch decorated with mistletoe and holly, arriving at a long stretch of stalls and vendors unlike anything I have ever seen. This part of the city is perpetually cold, and because of this strange weather condition, an unexpectedly large helping of snow has gathered in

various spots, covering the ground with patches of brilliant white. All of the foods here are seasonally appropriate, and while you’d hope this was true of any farmer’s market, The Frozen Lake takes this concept to a whole other level.

Everything is themed after the holidays in some way, spiced cider on one side and eggnog on the other. There are fresh gingerbread cookies, and peppermint snow cones, and bottles of reindeer milk.

“This is... incredible,” I gush, my eyes wide as we stroll along the path.

“You don’t wanna get anything?” Norp asks, gesturing towards my still empty tote bag.

I suddenly realize that I’ve been too wrapped up in the sights and sounds to actually do any shopping. I focus up, scanning for a good place to start, but before I get the chance to dive in I’m pulled away by yet another unexpected distraction.

This one, however, isn’t particularly warm and festive.
“Do you hear that?” I ask, cocking my head to the side and listening closely. A strange sound is drifting through the air. It’s a gathering of voices, like a

choir singing, only there’s no set notes to be found. Instead, these long, droning sighs move in and out of sync with each other, a haunting, endless noise. The odd arrangement grows louder and louder until, finally, it’s enough for me to understand what I’m hearing. This is the sound of a booing crowd.

“Oh yeah,” Norp finally replies, now understanding the noise that I’m talking about. “Krampus just got here.”

“Krampus?”
Norp nods, then points down the aisle of vendors.
I can see now that a strange figure has arrived, the crowd parting as he clops

his way towards us. Krampus is clad in a deep red robe with gold features and a thick fur lining. His skin is bluish in hue, and two enormous horns jut out from the top of his head. His fingers feature long, sharp nails.

One of the creature’s most notable features are the joints of his legs, positioned backwards like those of a goat and ending in two pronounced hooves.

Our heads turn as he strolls directly past us, and from the corner of my eye I notice Norp open his mouth wide and let out a jeer of his own.

I immediately join in. “Booooo!” I holler. “Boooo, Krampus!”

The second this holler reaches the creature’s ears he turns his head, staring me directly in the eyes with his piercing blue gaze.

“Oh fuck,” I blurt, glancing down. “He looked right at me.”
“Uh oh,” Norp blurts.
“What do you mean uh oh!?” I shout. “There’s an uh oh?”
“I mean, he is a demon who sucks the Christmas spirit right out of you.” “What?”

Norp shrugs. “At least, that’s what they say.”

I keep my eyes averted until I’m sure Krampus has passed, then finally glance up when he’s arrived at the other side of the market. He’s talking to someone at a candy cane stand, which immediately reminds me that I’ll need some of that for a pastry I wanted to bake.

“I need candy canes,” I inform Norp.
“Well, that’s the only stand at the market, so you should probably wait.”
I follow my friend’s advice, wandering around until Krampus finally leaves.

The furious booing starts up again as he travels back the way he came. Once Krampus reaches the edge of the market he takes off into the snow-covered woods, trekking into the ever-thickening forest and trudging his way up the hillside.

“That was... wild,” is all I can think to say.

Me and Norp make our way over to the candy cane stand, the sweet smell of peppermint filling our nostrils as we approach.

“Hey there,” the woman behind the counter says. “How can I help you?”

“Just looking for something I can crush up and use on a strudel I’m making,” I explain. “Do you have any candy cane bricks by the pound?”

“Absolutely,” she replies, leading me over to a basket that’s absolutely overflowing with massive, crystalline chunks of this classic red and white candy.

“Oh wow,” I gush, looking over her supply.
“Go ahead and pick out any pieces that look the ripest,” she offers.
I bend down, getting in close to inspect the candy cane, but I soon find

myself unable to concentrate. A haze lingers within my mind, clouding my thoughts with questions that are completely unrelated to these sugary morsels.

Finally, I stand back up and let out a long sigh. “I’m sorry that you had to go through all that.”

“Go through all what?” she replies.

I lower my voice a bit, leaning in. “You know, Krampus? The demon? You had to sell him your candy canes.”

The woman furrows her brow, clearly disappointed by something I said. “Had to?”

“Oh, uh. Yeah,” I fumble. “Sorry, I just thought-”

“First of all, he’s not a demon,” she counters. “Technically, he’s a species of bigfoot. Second of all, he’s incredibly nice. He’s the best customer I have.”

“Wait, what? I heard he wanted to end Christmas or something.”

The candy cane woman throws her hands up, frustrated. “Why does everyone keep saying that! He’s just a nice guy!”

“I’m sorry,” I blurt, backing up. “I should probably go.” “Yeah, I think you should,” the woman confirms.

I step away, Norp following closely behind. A whole tornado of emotions have whipped up within me, taking me for a loop. Now that I have a broader picture of what’s going on, I feel embarrassed by what I’ve said to this woman.

More than that, though, I’m embarrassed by what I said to Krampus.
“I can’t believe I booed him,” I murmur, more to myself than anyone else. I glance over at Norp.
“Why the hell did you tell me he was a bad guy?” I question.
“That’s what someone told me,” Norp replies with a shrug.
I can feel my guilt building up, a terrible searing regret at the pit of my

stomach that grows larger and larger with every passing second. As much as I’d love to move on and completely forget about the events of the last fifteen minutes, I can’t ever see that happening. I made a mistake, and I need to own up to it.

“You okay?” Norp asks, noticing that I’ve been quiet for a little too long. “Actually, no,” I reply. “I gotta go take care of something.”
With that, I head off through the market, closely following Krampus’s path

as he made his escape. When I reach the edge, I discover that the creature’s large hooved footprints are imbedded in the snow, winding their way up into the forest.

I don’t hesitate. Soon enough, the sounds of the market are fading behind me, replaced instead by a peaceful, meditative quiet. A soft breeze makes its way through the tree branches above, and the gradually melting snow offers up a gentle crackle as tiny ice crystals pop and fade.

I hike for quite a while, driving farther and farther into the wilds. Fortunately, the Krampus tracks only get clearer as I go, more and more snow covering the ground as I draw closer to The Frozen Lake itself, the namesake of this neighborhood.

Finally, I emerge into a clearing. This little area is nestled against the side of a cliff, and it’s here that I find the tracks leading into the entrance of a large cave.

“Hello?” I call out.
Silence.
As I stand here waiting for a reply, the delicious sent of simmering cranberry

fills my nostrils.
I take a few steps closer to the cave entrance. “Hey, I just wanted to let you

know that I’m really sorry I booed you down there,” I continue. “I heard some things, and I acted a little too fast. It was a big mistake and I feel horrible.”

I hesitate.

“I’m sure you feel horrible, too,” I tell him. “I don’t wanna make this about me. I just... I’m really sorry. Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.”

When no response comes, I let out a long sight and turn around, preparing to head back down the hill. However, I only make it a few steps before a loud, booming voice stops me in my tracks.

“I don’t have a lot of visitors up here,” the voice calls out from within the cave. “You could... join me for dinner.”

“Oh—okay,” I stammer. “I’d love to. Whatever you’re making smells delicious.”

I approach the cave entrance, peering into the darkness. From this new angle, however, I can see that the cave is not quite as dark as it seems. A faint gasp erupts from my throat when I’m greeted by a gorgeous, modern home, perfectly styled and beautifully crafted. His living room features some gorgeous mid-century modern pieces, likely vintage, and a few interesting art prints hang from his walls. It appears Krampus’s taste is impeccable.

The man himself stands just beyond, hard at work behind a kitchen island. An apron is wrapped around his body. “Come in, come in,” Krampus says, motioning to the nearby dining room table. “Have a seat.”

I follow these instructions, making my way inside and pulling out a chair. I sit, watching Krampus as he works.

“I really am sorry,” I say.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” he assures me. “People have painted me in a certain light. It’s hard to get around that.”

I nod, considering apologizing even more but holding my tongue. There’s only so many times I can make this point before it gets incredibly annoying.

“What are we having?” I finally ask, changing the subject.

“White chocolate spaghetti with cranberry sauce and candy cane crumbles,” he reveals.

I can feel a surge of hunger within me. “Oh!” I react. “That sounds amazing.”

“It’s a Krampus specialty.”

A timer suddenly dings and the creature springs into action. He walks over and opens up his oven, then pulls on some mitts and carefully withdraws a dish of piping hot spaghetti. He sets it on the counter and then begins to serve it up, diligently plating our meals. The white chocolate spaghetti comes first, followed by a ladle full of brilliant red cranberry sauce. Finally, he pulls out a large chunk of candy cane and a cheese grater, rubbing the sugar back and forth across the grill like you would a hunk of parmesan. The candy cane flakes sprinkle down, coating our pasta and sauce.

When Krampus is finished he picks up the two plates and brings them over, setting one in front of me and one in front of himself.

“Oh!” he suddenly blurts. “I almost forgot.”

With that, the creature hurries over and grabs a lighter, returning to the table and illuminating the single, long candle that sits between us.

We quickly fall into conversation with one another, chatting away with a surprising amount of ease. It’s like the two of us are old friends, immediately falling into a conversational rhythm despite the fact that we’ve only just met.

At first, I can’t help the way my guilt blooms with every passing second, confronted with the terrible truth of just how wrong I’d gotten this. Not only is Krampus not a monster, but he’s one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met.

He’s also a hell of a chef.

“That was incredible,” I state after swallowing my last bite, fully cleaning off my plate. I lean back in my chair, hands over my stomach.

“You liked it?” he asks, genuinely thankful for the praise.

“I loved it,” I reply.

The second that these words leave my lips, I feel something shift in the air.

An erotic sizzle charges through me, so powerful that I can actually feel my heart skip a beat. This isn’t at all where I expected the night to go, but now that it’s here the sensations are hard to ignore. There’s no way around it, no sugar-coating this sensation like it’s an ungarnished bowl of chocolate spaghetti: I’m attracted to Krampus.

“Well, thanks for coming,” he finally says, slapping his knees and he rises from his chair. He takes both of our plates and brings them into the kitchen, washing them off in the sink.

“Dinner was so good,” I say, flushed with erotic tension and not quite sure what to do with it. “I wish it wasn’t over so soon.”

Krampus stops washing the plates. He sets them down and turns around to face me. “Well, usually this is just the start of a date up here in Krampus cave,” he jokes. “You probably aren’t interested in the rest.”

“What if I am?” I coo, laying my cards on the table.

There’s a twinkle of awareness in Krampus’s eye, our wavelengths finally meeting and harmonizing with one another.

I stand up and stroll into the kitchen, taking my time as I approach the hulking creature. When I finally reach him I place my hand on his chest, allowing the tension between us to build more and more until finally, it breaks.

The two of us embrace with a passionate kiss, allowing ourself to disappear in this moment of carnal release. The next thing I know my hands are roaming across his giant blue body, tearing away his cloak and exploring his muscular frame.

Krampus explores me in turn. As we continue to kiss, he begins stripping off my clothing, peeling the fabric away from my skin and tossing it to the side. Eventually, there’s nothing left, my whole body exposed. A sharp tremble runs the length of my spine, recognizing that there’s hardly anything left to separate our bodies.

I pull off the creature’s shirt and press our skin together, feeling the warmth of this connection. From here, I allow my hand to creep lower and lower across his stomach, stopping only when I reach the border of his waistline. It’s here that I tease Krampus for a moment, walking my fingers back and forth. Eventually, I get to work on his belt, but I take my time, savoring every moment of this process.

“Please,” Krampus whispers in my ear. “I’ve been so good this year.”

I finally have mercy, undoing his belt and reaching down to extract his massive rod. I let out a startle gasp at this sight of Krampus’s enormous cock, admiring its swollen, veiny wonder. My fingers wrap around his shaft and my hand begins to pump across it, slowly at first and then gaining speed. I take note of the way his hips pump back against me, allowing him a chance to pick the momentum and then following along. Eventually, I’m beating him off with reckless abandon, the creature’s moaning filling the cave, but my hunger for more stops this adventure before it gets too far.

Instead, I drop to my knees before him, gazing up with cock hungry eyes. I open wide and slip his holiday shaft between my lips, getting to work at the same pace as the hand that came before. I reach up and cradle Krampus’s balls, noting the way they jingle ever so slightly. A holiday treat.

Eventually, I decide to alter my technique. I pull back and release Krampus’s cock from my mouth, taking a moment to collect myself. From here, I center up and swallow him once again, only this time I don’t bob my head. Instead, I take the handsome holiday creature’s member all the way down, slipping him further and further into my gullet. I relax my throat, ignoring the limits of my gag reflex and somehow consuming him into my absolute depths. Soon enough, my face is pressed up against his chiseled abs.

I hold here, allowing Krampus a chance to savor my oral acrobatics. This position remains steady for a good while, until finally I’m forced to pull back with a frantic, sputtering gasp, spit dangling from my lips and my eyes wild with lust.

“Fuck me!” I command. “I need to feel that candy cane cock up my ass.”

I spin around on the floor, falling to my hands and knees and crawling away from Krampus with a sway in my hips. I pop my ass out towards him and give it a playful slap.

“What are you waiting for?” I growl.

Krampus heeds my words. He removes any clothing that’s left and then climbs down into position behind me, aligning his enormous rod with my tightly puckered backdoor. The creature teases me for a moment, applying pressure to my entrance and then pulling back. He does this multiple times, allowing the tension to build, then finally thrusts into me with a single, powerful movement.

“Oh fuck!” I cry out, not entirely prepared for his formidable size despite my coaxing.

I brace myself against the floor as his weight settles on top of me, struggling to accept his cock. Fortunately, Krampus is a caring lover, and the second he notices my discomfort he stops. Instead of getting to work, Krampus holds within me, allowing my body a moment to adjust to his size. The longer we stay like this, the more I can feel these sensations transition into something else. The ache within me becomes a pleasant warmth at the pit of my stomach.

Soon enough, the two of us are falling into a slow grind together. Krampus is perfectly tuned to the reactions of my body, patient and caring as he guides me along. Eventually, the tension falls away completely, as the two of us find a steady pace together.

“Oh fuck, that feels so good,” I groan, pumping myself back against him.

The heat within my belly begins to spread, working its way across the rest of my frame. It spills down my arms and legs, filling me up with a glorious sizzle and pressing me to slam even harder onto Krampus’s cock.

I reach down with one hand and grab ahold of my hanging dick. I start to beat myself off, stroking in time with the pumps up my ass and sighing loudly as these sensations begin to swirl together in a potent erotic cocktail. The pleasure is coming at me from every side now, completely overwhelming my senses in a haze of carnal bliss. It builds and builds, the impending climax looming above me and then finally breaking with a mighty wave of pleasure.

“I’m cumming!” I cry, throwing my head back and erupting with this two word phrase that immediately stretches into a wild, unfiltered howl.

Hot white jizz erupts from the head of my shaft, splattering across the ground below in a beautiful pattern. All the while, Krampus continues hammering into me, carrying me through the entirety of this orgasm.

When I finally finish, the handsome creature pushes deep and unleashes a payload of his own. I can feel his massive rod surging within my ass, twitching with every pump as he fills me with his seed. Eventually, there’s simply not enough room within my butt, his cum spilling out down the back of my leg in long, milky streaks.

The two of us collapse into a pile, panting and utterly satisfied.

It takes a moment for me catch my breath, but when I do I find myself gushing with compliments. “That was incredible,” I tell Krampus. “The best sex of my life.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” he jokes with a wry smile.

“Probably the best white chocolate spaghetti with cranberry sauce and peppermint flakes, too,” I add.

A thought suddenly occurs to me, erupting through my brain with such force that I actually sit upright. My breath catches in my throat.

“I have an idea,” I announce.

This weekend’s farmers market is even more bustling than before. It seems that everyone wants to make a trip to The Frozen Lake around the holidays, and the closer Christmas gets, the more folks are willing to make this trek.

Unfortunately, their attitudes haven’t changed since last week. At least, not yet.

It’s a real shame, but I have empathy. I was just like them, after all, but fortunately I’ve worked out a plan to make things right.

Krampus’s Holiday Spaghetti is the newest booth to make its appearance, a large, wooden frame covered in fir branches and twinkling lights. Take away spaghetti bowls sit lined up on the counter before Krampus, but so far nobody has grabbed one.

Instead, the crowd hangs back, watching skeptically to see what this frightening creature will do next. He’s attracted quite a crowd, but not for the reasons you might hope.

Recognizing the perfect timing, I emerge from the circle of onlookers and approach Krampus’s stand. I pay for a bowl of the white chocolate spaghetti with cranberry sauce and candy cane shavings on top, holding it up and then taking a generous bite.

“Oh my gawd,” I announce. “That is incredible.”

Right on cue, the woman from the candy cane booth makes her way up and orders a bowl of her own. She runs through the same motions, dramatically taking a bite and then announcing her pleasure to the crowd.

To be honest, not that much exaggeration is needed. It really is that good.

Eventually, more people start to fall in line. I step back to enjoy my food, watching as the queue grows longer and longer. Soon enough, it’s the biggest crowd at the farmer’s market.