Page 5 of Oh Christmas Tree
The lights flicker again, and I sigh with relief when they stay on. I down my eggnog; it tastes way better with more rum. I decide to take a refill and then put my sorry ass in front of the TV for a good old Christmas classic: Die Hard.
I end up taking the eggnog and the rum with me to the couch, together with the entire platter of Christmas Cookies. I’m beyond caring. I will regret every decision today, but that’s for Tomorrow’s Chloe. Tonight’s Chloe is D.O.N.E.
5
CED
Something is nagging at the edges of my consciousness. Something is pulling me towards it, out of my slumber. The more cognizant I get, the more I realize what it is. It’s a scent, a tantalizing, mouth-watering scent. It’s earthy, like the forest after a good rain shower, mixed with the peppery undertones of thyme.
I am fully aware now. This slumber has been long and deep, and I crave to stretch out my branches and roots. My roots hit something hard before they even try to reach out to the nature around us, and my branches are somehow restricted. What is going on here?
It takes some effort, but I manage to open my eyes, they have been shut for decades, and the wood crunches and crackles. Light is overflowing my senses, making me regret the attempt immediately. So, I close my eyes before I try to open them again. Slowly this time. My sight returns, then my hearing, and when I take my first deep breath, I feel my body returning to life. I was not dead; far from it. We become one with the tree embedded in our soul when we slumber. It gives us life and heals us, and we give it eternity.Rejuvenating when we take control and thriving when we slumber again.
My senses are finally working again, and I take in my surroundings. I am inside, in some kind of house, a cabin. Some parts of the house seem familiar, but there’s a lot I don’t recognize. I try to move my roots, but they are stuck. I’m still stuck in my tree form and can’t look down, but I let my branches grow and explore, only to find out I am in a pot, covered with dirt. My magic is weak, but I pour out every ounce to gather my two-legged form. Dirt flies through the air as I manage to remove my body from the pot. Now that I am in my two-legged form, the restraints on my upper body have lessened, and I feel things gliding down with every step I take.
My head still almost hits the ceiling, so I tread carefully as I look around. I smell food and see a lot of it on the table, which is heavily decorated. The kitchen is filled with dishes and cutlery; many smells come from its location, though not the one that roused me. The kitchen is also decorated, and as my gaze wanders through the house, I notice decorations are everywhere. It must be Yule, what the humans call Christmas. The veil is thin this time of year, which explains why I’ve been roused after so long.
I try to stretch my limbs again. I can’t get all the stiffness out, but everything runs much smoother in this form.
After I shake off some more of the restraints, I inhale deeply and am rewarded by the scent of the forest, of home. It comes from the unexplored part of the living room, and when I get closer, I realize there’s a small human lying on the couch. She’s asleep, though flashy lights and lots of noise come from a square rectangle against the wall.
Inching closer, her scent lures me in. She smells so good, like nothing I have ever experienced in my long, long life. Imove without conscious thought, without control over my body.
The female makes a little sigh and turns. Her dress hitches up, showing me inches and inches of delicious, creamy, thick thighs. Thighs that could tempt any creature. The last time I was around, this amount of skin was illegal, and I can totally agree on a beauty like her.
My gaze travels upwards. She is wearing a tight red dress, leaving nothing to the imagination. Her soft belly rises with every breath she takes, and when I think of all that creamy softness underneath the fabric, I feel something rise within me that has been dormant for much longer than my slumber.
When my eyes fall to her luscious breasts, I groan. This is a creature out of myths, out of dreams. She is all curves and softness, long curly blond hair matches the tones of her skin, and I cannot wait to see which color decorates her eyes.
I lean in and take a whiff of her scent. Realization hits me that she is the one who has roused me; she’s the owner of that tantalizing scent. More, I need more of that, more of her. Stretching out my branches, I sprout some saplings that move their way towards her body. The minute they touch her skin, I am hit with sensations. Gods, she is perfect. There is so much life coming through her body, she thrums with it, and she doesn't even know it. The vines make their way up her body, and I can’t control myself. Just a little taste, just one. My tongue darts out, and taking a deep whiff, I slide my tongue up her neck, from her shoulder to her ear. She groans and swats at my tongue. Her nose wrinkles in the cutest way.
I murmur in her ear. “You are a goddess.” She groans again, and I go for another taste. When my twigs hike up her dress, her scent intensifies. I can’t see between her legs, because of the tight fabric and the way her divine curves restrict movement, but I can feel. When I touch her core, herperfume blossoms and arousal fills the air. She groans again, pressing her thighs together to search for friction; instead, I stroke her. And again, and again, until her arousal dampens her underwear and seeps into my saplings.
She moves and writhes and moans under me; she’s not fully conscious, but she will be yet. Will she be scared when she wakes up? Will she pull away from me? The thought is unbearable. Maybe if I make her cum first?
I sneak one of my vines inside her underwear and brush through her folds. I shiver at the wetness I find, wetness that immediately fuels my magic, and my saplings grow bigger, stronger.
I shouldn’t do this, I shouldn’t invade her like this. But she is so delectable, so tempting, I–
“O MY FREAKING GOD WHAT IS HAPPENING?!”
6
CHLOE
Iam having the weirdest sex dream I have ever had. And that includes the one I once had about Mr. Hooper from Sesame Street.
I’m still on the couch, in my cabin, the closing credits from Die Hard are playing in the background, and hovering over me is some kind of monster, who has a strange likeness to my Christmas Tree. I am also super, SUPER horny. I feel wetness coating my entire pussy, and something unimaginable slides through my folds. It feels smooth, but rough at the same time. And it is poking at my entrance. I feel my inner muscles clench, like I’m on the verge of cumming.
I can’t help but shout out: “O MY FREAKING GOD WHAT IS HAPPENING?!”
The creature lifts its head and looks at me, taking my breath away. Their pale eyes, a milky light blue, hit mine, and something sparks. Entranced, I lift my hand and place it on their cheek. It feels rough, like the bark of a tree, and for a second, they close their eyes as if savoring my touch.
“Let me pleasure you, let me taste you,” they whisper, and I can only nod.
“Yes.”
One word, three little letters, but they hold so much meaning in this moment. I want to enjoy the heck out of this crazy dream. That must have been one hell of an eggnog if it gave me such a lucid wet dream, but I am here for it.
