My Big, Fat, Tiefling Christmas

Chapter 1

There were so many traditions to keep track of, big and small. Baz cautioned me that his family took Yule and Christmas seriously, yet now that I was here I felt like he hadn’t prepared me enough. Flaming pudding infused with that had-a-fill stuff Tieflings liked, a polar swim in the lake on the first day after the solstice (the de Gras family, unsurprisingly, seemed to be immune to the cold, while I was out after two seconds in the water), an all night vigil with a burning Yule log, and now, matching pajamas were part of my holiday routine.

Two of my foster families had done pajama sets for Christmas. The first, a family with which I was repeatedly placed, made it clear that I, a willful intruder at the age of nine or thirteen or fifteen, was not family or even welcome to join in the unwrapping of presents or general festivities. The other family, of much poorer means, had happily bought me a matching set. That was my tenth Christmas, and I wore that set of pajamas through college. Though it had fallen to pieces in my sophomore year, I still had the ratty shirt in my drawer. It was hard to throw away mementos of kindness from my childhood and adolescence. I had more than enough space for my collection, as it was rather small.

Tania handed me the box after the huge Christmas Eve dinner with a conspiratorial grin. “I know you’re not married into the family yet, but I did so want to include you!”

I accepted the gift with a goofy grin of my own. “Thank you, Tania, you’re so thoughtful.” She wrapped me in an engulfing hug, scented of delicate flowers and warm amber with a powdery afternote.

“Merry Christmas, dearie. I’m glad Bazzy met you,” she said, sniffling a little.

Will sauntered over in a billowy jumpsuit in pale gold, the kind of outfit that would look sloppy on just about anyone else. She looked cool and casual as always, and her metallic gold French mani was subtle elegance. “Mom, don’t cry all over Millie,” she teased.

Tania stepped back and hugged her daughter. “Now we just need to find a good woman for Mina here,” she said, delicately wiping her eyes.

“Mom!” Will’s cheeks flushed dark burgundy and her eyebrows jumped high.

“I mean it, you’re not getting any younger, and now that Bazzy has –”

“Now that Bazzy has decided he’s tired from the drive he gets to take his bride up to bed?” Basil snuck up behind his mom and sister. I wasn’t sure how a nearly half-ton man with hooves could sneak at all, but he managed to.

“I was just giving the pajamas to her!” protested Tania, though she smacked a wet kiss on her children’s cheeks, one after another. “Go to bed, you three, or Father Christmas won’t come.”

“Yes, Mother,” Basil said politely, making her roll her eyes and Will crack up. He held a matching box under one arm. “Until tomorrow then!”

****

Basil unpacked while I opened my first present of the season. His room was filled with furniture that I guessed dated to the late 30s, not fully Art Deco, but not yet mid-century. The wood was warm and golden, and the lines sleek with geometric flourishes. It didn’t look like any child’s or teen’s room I had ever seen, but the shelves of ribbons won in academic challenges and cooking competitions told me it had been Baz’s through his life.

The box held a neatly folded set of flannel pajamas in brushed cotton. They were green and white checked, with red and gold ornaments scattered over the fabric’s field. They had red piping at the cuffs, and initials embroidered in the same shade at the collar. It was a dated-looking print, but dated in an expensive, vintage-reproduction sort of way. They were colorful. They were corny. They were beautiful.

I turned to Baz, struggling to keep a grin off my face. “You get pajamas this nice every Christmas?”

“Yeah, I know the embroidering is a little extra,” he yawned, kicking his suitcase under the Occult king bed with a careless hoof. He pulled his pajamas out and donned them while I sat and thought.

With strange intensity, I stared down at the MOC stitched in glossy red thread, framed by a red and white striped circle: Mildred Courtney O’Brien. I’d never had anything monogrammed before, that always seemed like something for rich people. And with a confused feeling, I realized that would be one of them after we married.

Baz had always been giving and giving and giving to me, casually showering me with affection and presents. He never made a big deal about it — unless it was panties that he wanted to see me wear — and I was always deeply grateful, but it had become quietly normal for me.

I still felt a little guilty receiving so much, but as he liked to remind me, blowjobs and worshipful stuffings had become normal for him, so it’s not like it was a one-way street.

“What do you think, princess? Do you like them?” He heaved his massive body, now encased in his own set of pajamas, and rolled over on his side with a cheerful, eager look. His gut looked like a cuddly pillow in its flannel wrapping.

“I do, they’re very comfy looking.”

“They are,” he said, gently rubbing his belly. “Go on and try them on!” His grin was adorable.

Upon pulling the pants up, I realized that the matriarch of a family of gluttony demons might, despite her best efforts, have a poor sense of what size an average human was. I was able, though, to cinch the pant’s waist tight with its red grosgrain drawstring and tie the halves of the shirt together at my waist. It now just looked a touch big, perhaps stylishly big if I squinted.

Basil’s eyes softened into a sappy look. “You’re adorable, come here! I want to cuddle my baby girl.”

“Just cuddle?” I said, scrambling up onto the four-poster bed to curl up at his side.

“Mm, well, to start with,” he hummed against my neck. His thick fingers pressed against my mouth to shush my groans. “Gotta keep quiet, princess.”

“Yes, my king,” I whispered. His lips drifted from my ear, my neck, my collarbone, down to my flannel-clad breasts.

He carefully undid the buttons. “I don’t want to destroy your present,” he said casually, as if he wasn’t about to destroy my self-control, and maybe my dignity. His fangs scraped delicately over my nipple, making me buck under him. I squealed against his fingers, and he tutted, “Stay quiet, baby girl. I won’t spank you here, but I’ll think of something else to torture you.”

My eyes shot open almost painfully wide. Basil’s expression was power, amusement, and wickedness swirled together. His dark eyes sparkled as he bent his head and began sucking and biting at my breasts again. Molten desire flowed through me, and each prick of his sharp teeth sent a pulse through me, directly down to my clit.

I tried to be quiet, I really did, but another high whine escaped me. He was so goddamn good at pleasuring me. He knew my body so well, knew exactly where I loved to be kissed, licked, or spanked.

He pulled his head up sharply, with a cruel and gleeful expression. “Good heavens, princess, you’re not usually so disobedient.” His fingers still covered my lips, so all I could do was implore him with my eyes and make apologetic noises. “I think I’m going to have to think of some punishments.” He trailed his tongue down my belly, and tugged at the flannel pants. Then, he paused, and got up off the bed.

“Where are you going?” I asked in a frantic whisper.

He opened his suitcase, and rummaged through it, humming and ignoring me. “There you are,” I heard him mutter. He turned and gently tossed a wrapped box over to me. “Open this.”

I sat up, pants down, shirt open, and did as I was told. Inside was a lovely hardwood box, some golden and glossy wood, and inside the box was a set of wrist and ankle cuffs. They were black leather and lined with black fur, or perhaps sheepskin, something soft and lovely feeling. Fuchsia piping at the seams added a pop of color, Baz’s favorite shade on me. Behind the four cuffs, I saw the last piece of the set: a collar. It had the word PRINCESS picked out in rhinestones – or, no, those weren’t diamonds were they? That would be over the top even for him.

“They’re lab-made, no blood diamonds for my good girl,” he said, crossing his arms across his vast chest, over the bulge of his belly, looking smug. “Hold out your arms.” He manhandled me gently, firmly, and stripped me before putting the cuffs on my limbs.

He twirled his finger in a circle, and I obediently turned to face away from him. I was nervous, almost more nervous than I was when I accepted his ring. He kissed the top of my head, then the back of my neck, and the cool, soft fur and sleek leather glided over my skin, tickling me. A small click was audible, then he stepped back to look at his handiwork. I reached behind my neck to feel a small, heart-shaped lock fastening my collar closed and on. He grinned seeing my eyes widen. “You’re all mine, princess.”

“I thought you said you were going to torture me, not give me presents,” I said, beaming. I felt as bright and bubbly as a flute of champagne, and reached out to my big man to hold him close.

Basil’s grin became sharp, his fangs more prominent between his plump lips. “I can do both.” He clapped his hands together, saying, “Lie down, hands above your head.”

“Yes, your Majesty,” I said. Submitting to him gave me a rush of pleasure, a feeling of warmth in mind and body and soul alike. His care made me feel like the most precious treasure in the world.

Another click and my wrists were locked together, the bars of the wrought iron bed holding them in place. Baz took a moment to admire his work, his girl, and his hand floated over my body to slip between my thighs. His fat fingers probed my body softly. He hissed sharply, feeling my wet pussy, and asked, “Does that feel good, baby girl?”

“Yes, sir,” I cried in a whisper.

“Good girl,” he said, his voice warm. “Do you want more?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to come?” His fingers slid up and down the seam of my lips, gently swirling around my clit, making me gasp.

“Yes!’ I said with a guttural sigh.

All motion stopped. “Ba – your Majesty? My king?”

He looked even more smug than usual. “I said I was going to torture you, princess.”

“But I –”

He wagged his finger reprovingly at me. “Be a good girl and I’ll make you come for me later.”

“When?” I squeaked, quite indignant.

Basil shrugged. “When I decide.” Without explaining further, he dropped his pants down to the floor and unbuttoned his shirt. Then, he pushed my legs together, and swung his over to straddle my hips. The full weight of his gut had me pinned down. It was even hard to breathe – I wondered how many hundreds of pounds were crushing me right now. He rocked his hips slowly, with a thoughtful look on his face. “Mm, I can grind against you, baby girl. Your little tummy feels wonderful against my dick.”

His eyes closed behind his glasses, and he rocked his hips faster. His belly rippled, flowing over my belly and breasts, all the way up to my chin. It was maddeningly close to my lips. If I couldn’t come, I wanted to worship his belly, but he wouldn’t let me do even that. All I could do was watch while he used my body for his pleasure.

God, I was so damn wet!

“Your skin is so soft, princess,” he groaned. “You’re all mine, baby girl, all mine, all – oh!” A gasping growl burst from him, and his hot seed flooded across my belly. I squeaked at the sudden sensation, while he laughed.

Basil grunted with the effort of hoisting himself off of me, smirking all the while. His expression didn't change even when he was wiping my skin clean of his cum. “Ready for bed?” he said with affected carelessness, donning his flannel pajamas once more.

“I don’t think I can sleep like this,” I said, quite pathetically. I pulled out my puppy dog eyes, hoping he’d relent.

“Of course, darling Millie,” he said agreeably, but all he did was unlock my wrists. “Put your pajamas on, sweetheart, and let’s go to bed.”

My heart was pounding, and I felt crazed with desire, but I obeyed. It felt strange, even exciting, to wear these cozy, ordinary pajamas with the black leather collar and cuffs. Though… the contrast felt like us. Cozy yet kinky, a small and huge pair, shy yet with a streak of exhibitionism.

My big man opened his arms to me, all mischief faded from his eyes, now only sleepy after his orgasm. “Come on, love. I’m falling asleep sitting up.”

“Then we’ll just have to lie down,” I said, bouncing into bed. I nestled against him, so huge, warm, and fat. Frustration coursed through my body like a wild animal, but somehow, all it did was make me his even more deeply.

***

The alarm went off at eight. Bright sunlight streaming through the huge picture window had woken me up already. Quietly, eagerly I studied the view outside. Below me lay a lovely deck, sturdy enough for a family of fat Tieflings and their guests, and below that, a sparkling frozen lake. Mountains swooped up to the sky from its far-off shoreline, and the early sunlight washed everything in crystal blues and tinsel whites.

A big warm belly pressed into my back. “Nice, isn’t it?” he asked, kissing the top of my head, “Merry Christmas, princess. Waking up next to you was the best present I could get.”

“But it isn’t the only one!” I said, sounding toward him and throwing my arms around him, my fingers just brushing his sides. I mushed my face into his tummy, and asked through muffled flab, “Do I give you your present now, or when we go downstairs?”

“We’ll open presents after breakfast,” he explained. An amused giggle escaped me and Basil rolled his eyes. “You bet breakfast comes first in this family.”

“Some of us don’t get to come at all,” I said a touch sourly.

“Poor Millie,” he beamed smugly. “Come on, this belly needs filling!” He tapped his gut with friendly affection and I planted a kiss right on top.

***

It was a mere hour and a half before breakfast was ready. Basil and his mother disappeared into the kitchen, while Will, their father, and I sipped at Irish coffees and played card games. Will was determined to teach me how to play Imp’s Luck. I was terrible, but Will and Demetrius were patient with me, and more than a bit amused by my inability to keep the rules straight.

“Stop trying to swindle my bride,” Basil called into the room. “Also, breakfast is ready, get on in here.” Will bounced out of her seat, and Demetrius moved almost as quickly. The sight waiting for us was an astonishing one, even by the de Gras standards I had begun to expect. A blueberry French toast casserole, banana waffles, a mountain of fluffy scrambled eggs, another pan of eggs Benedict, buckwheat crepes, pain au chocolat, hot, steaming croissants, bacon, sausage, ham, a plate of preserved meats and hard cheeses, ambrosia, fruit salad, Niçoise salad, muffins, homemade donuts and sticky cinnamon buns filled the table without an inch to spare.

“How did you make all this that fast?” I marveled, taking my seat.

Tania gave Basil a look. “We plan, and set up some things the day before,” she said.

“Give me your plate, Millie, you’re going to love the crepes,” Baz said. The plate he filled, as usual, turned out to be a small mountain. Compared to the de Gras family’s plates though, it was a mere foothill.

As always, it was a joy to watch Basil eat. Even compared to his family, even compared to their holiday indulgence, he ate a lot. His manners, though, were as impeccable as his gluttony was immense. How did he find the time to talk between mouthfuls?

One, two, three hours passed, and somehow they kept eating. The food was served on plates of Dwarven make, and neither cooled nor grew stale, giving this family of fat Tieflings ample time to stuff themselves. Will stopped first, then Tania, then Demetrius, but Basil took another half hour to declare himself full. The buttons on his pajama were taut and strained to keep his shirt even nominally closed.

“Mom, I think we did pretty well this year,” he said, wiping his mouth.

“We did, Bazzy,” Tania said, smiling warmly at her son and I.

Will stretched. “Ready Dad?”

Demetrius nodded and rose from his chair with some oofs and grunts. “Clean up squad on the job.”

“Oh, let me help!” I said, hopping out of my chair.

“No, Millie, you’re our guest,” Tania said quickly.

“And the kitchen is us-sized, not you-sized, we’ll get you a step ladder for Christmas next year,” Will teased.

Demetrius paused mid-waddle to the kitchen, “You kids go rest, we’ll open presents in a few hours.”

Behind their backs, Basil leered at me and rubbed his swollen belly. “That sounds good,” I said, tugging at his arm, ready to run back to the room and jump on my well-stuffed Tiefling. “Thank you for a lovely breakfast!”

***

“Oh, my king,” I whimpered, kissing the fat round boulder of his belly over and over again. “I love you, I love watching you eat.”

He lay, eyes closed, luxuriating in my attention. My tongue lapped at his navel, then made its way down the trail of hair leading me to his fat pad, to his cock. “Good girl,” he sighed, then moaned softly as his cock entered my mouth. Salt and musk filled my senses, with each descent I pressed my face deeper into the plumpness of his soft fat pad.

Basil’s moans became louder as I sucked and licked faster and harder, until he was just as loud as he was at home. “Basil,” I paused to giggle, “Your whole family is going to hear you!”

He waved my comment away. “Nah, their bedrooms are on the opposite side of the house. They can’t hear a thing.” I froze, not sure whether to laugh or berate him, most likely a mix of the two. He cracked one eye and an amused grin spread on his lips. “I said you had to be quiet, I didn’t say anything about my family overhearing us.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Yeah, I –oh, Millie,” he sighed. “Just like that, baby girl.” He murmured praise in a restless flow of good girl and more and yes, yes yes.

His thick girth stiffened further in my mouth, and I readied myself for the gush of seed, but he spoke up. “Princess, I want to be inside you.”

Rocking back on my heels, I peered at him over his mound of belly. “But, your Majesty, your fat pad makes me come,” I said coyly. “I’m not sure I can ride you without having an orgasm.”

“I’m willing to take that chance,” he said, wearing a lazy grin.