Posts

[search help]

Layout Settings

Blacklisted
(help)
Invalid
Director
Franchises
Characters
Species
General
Meta

Information

  • Source:
ID
143847
MD5
242c0bb6ac12ed9f65f0d2692d9bba33
Size
2560x2560 (7.64 MB)
Type
PNG
Status
Active
Rating
Explicit
Score
41
Faves
67 Show

Related

santa claus (christmas) directed by gridanon
Viewing sample resized to 33% of original (view original) Loading...
View
Description

Santa and his HO HO HOES!

(This was originally supposed to be three reindeer girls with HO! on the back of their clothes for the joke, but after trying all day with both Stable Diffusion and NovelAI that just wasn't happening. Maybe by next Christmas though!)

Merry Christmas!

Tech Talk

This was made with a local install of Reforge using the model 3WolfMond: https://huggingface.co/Xeno443 . I'd recommend any or all of the 'Mond models, they're all some of the best furry SDXL models.

I used Tail Tagger for tagging assistance: https://github.com/renfald/tail-tagger . Along with the JPT-3 model for AI generating tags: https://huggingface.co/RedRocket/JTP-3/tree/main/models?not-for-all-audiences=true

AI Story - HO HO HO!

In the frost-kissed heart of the North Pole, where the aurora borealis danced like a cosmic striptease across the midnight sky, stood Santa's sprawling workshop—a gingerbread fortress of twinkling lights, candy cane columns, and enough holiday cheer to make even the grumpiest elf crack a smile. But tonight, on the eve of Christmas Eve, the cheer was about to get a whole lot steamier. Santa Claus, the legendary gift-giver himself, wasn't your jolly old human in a red suit. Oh no, in this world of fur and fangs, he was a colossal polar bear, towering at eight feet tall with a physique that screamed "I've been bench-pressing sleighs for centuries." His fur was as white as fresh-fallen snow, rippling over muscles that could crush coal into diamonds, and his belly? It jiggled just enough to remind everyone he indulged in one too many milk-and-cookie binges, but in a way that made him look like a sexy, cuddly powerhouse rather than a slob.

Santa—let's call him Klaus for intimacy's sake—lumbered into his private chambers after a long day of overseeing toy production. The room was a cozy den of velvet cushions, roaring fireplaces that crackled with pine-scented warmth, and walls adorned with naughty-and-nice lists that were more "naughty" than anything else. The air smelled of cinnamon, evergreen, and a faint, musky hint of anticipation. He let out a deep, rumbling sigh that echoed like distant thunder, his massive paws unbuckling his wide black belt with a satisfying *clink*. "Ho ho ho-ly crap, what a day," he grumbled in a voice like gravel wrapped in velvet, his breath fogging the air. His suit peeled away, revealing the full glory of his bearish form: broad shoulders, a chest like two snowy hills, and down below, a sheath that promised winter's biggest surprise package.

But Klaus wasn't alone. Oh, far from it. Waiting in the shadows, giggling like schoolgirls at a slumber party, were his elite team of reindeer helpers—anthropomorphic beauties who made Rudolph's nose look positively dim by comparison. These weren't your prancing, antlered bucks; these were voluptuous vixens, all female, with fur in shades of chestnut and caramel, sleek bodies curved like hourglasses sculpted from ice, and breasts so ample they could double as flotation devices in a blizzard. Leading the pack was Vixen, the sassy one with piercing green eyes and antlers that curled like seductive question marks. Beside her stood Dancer, the lithe bombshell with hips that swayed hypnotically, her fur shimmering under the firelight. Then there was Prancer, bubbly and bold, her laughter tinkling like bells, and Comet, the athletic tease with a tail that flicked like a come-hither invitation. They wore nothing but festive red ribbons tied around their necks and waists, accentuating their heaving bosoms and the soft, inviting swells of their asses. The scent of their arousal mingled with the room's spices—sweet, earthy, like mulled wine mixed with feminine musk—making Klaus's nostrils flare.

"Look who's finally home, girls," Vixen purred, her voice a sultry alto that sent shivers down Klaus's spine. She sauntered forward, her massive breasts bouncing with each step, nipples peeking through her fur like chocolate kisses begging to be unwrapped. "We've been waiting all day, big boy. The elves are asleep, the toys are packed—time for Santa to get his special delivery."

Klaus chuckled, a deep belly laugh that made his gut quake like jelly in an earthquake. "Ho ho ho, you naughty does! If I didn't know better, I'd think you were on the naughty list yourselves." He plopped down onto his enormous throne-like chair, the wood creaking under his weight, spreading his thick thighs wide. His sheath stirred, the tip of his massive cock emerging like a yule log from its hiding place—thick, veined, and already glistening with pre-cum that smelled faintly of peppermint from some enchanted holiday magic.

Dancer giggled, her hands—paws, really, with delicate hooves at the tips—trailing up her own curves as she approached. "Oh, Santa, we've been so good this year... but we're about to be very, very bad." She knelt between his legs, her warm breath ghosting over his growing erection, making it twitch and swell to its full, impressive length—easily a foot long, as girthy as a candy cane pole, with a slight upward curve that promised to hit all the right spots. The room filled with the sound of her inhaling deeply, savoring his musky, masculine scent mixed with the faint aroma of fur and sweat from his day's labors.

Prancer joined her, pressing her plush breasts against Klaus's thigh, the soft fur tickling his skin as she nuzzled closer. "Mmm, you smell like victory, Santa. All that hard work building toys... but now it's our turn to play." Her tongue, long and pink, darted out to lick a slow, teasing stripe along the underside of his shaft, tasting the salty-sweet pre-cum that beaded at the tip. Klaus groaned, his massive paw coming down to gently stroke her antlers, guiding her closer.

"Easy there, Prancer," he rumbled, his voice husky with desire. "Don't want to jingle all the bells too soon." But his words were undercut by a comedic yelp as Comet snuck up from behind, her hands squeezing his broad shoulders while her breasts squished against his back like warm pillows. "Surprise attack!" she laughed, her voice bubbly and light. "We've got you surrounded, Claus. No escape from the reindeer games tonight."

Vixen, ever the ringleader, straddled one of his thighs, her wet pussy grinding against the coarse fur there, leaving a slick trail that made the air hum with the scent of her arousal—tangy, like wild berries crushed underfoot. "That's right, girls. Let's show Santa how we fly his sleigh." She leaned in, capturing his muzzle in a deep kiss, her tongue tangling with his in a dance of heat and flavor—cinnamon from his cookies, honey from her lip gloss. As they kissed, her breasts pressed against his chest, the hard peaks of her nipples rubbing against his fur, sending sparks of pleasure through both of them.

Down below, Dancer and Prancer tag-teamed his cock with enthusiasm that bordered on hilarious overkill. Dancer's mouth enveloped the head, her lips stretching wide around its girth, sucking with a wet *slurp* that echoed comically loud in the quiet room. "Mmph, it's like trying to deep-throat a Christmas tree!" she mumbled around him, her eyes watering with effort but sparkling with mischief. Prancer lapped at the base, her tongue swirling around his heavy balls, which hung like oversized ornaments, furred and full. The taste was intoxicating—salty skin, a hint of soap from his morning bath, and that underlying peppermint essence that made her giggle mid-lick. "Tastes like candy, Santa! Did you dip it in the eggnog?"

Klaus threw his head back, roaring with laughter that turned into a moan. "Ho ho—ohhh, you minxes! If you keep that up, I'll be coming down the chimney early!" His paws roamed, one cupping Vixen's ass, squeezing the firm, furry cheeks as she rocked against him, her juices soaking his thigh. The other paw tangled in Comet's mane, pulling her around to his side where she eagerly offered her breasts. He buried his snout between them, inhaling the soft, milky scent—warm fur, a touch of vanilla from her perfume—and latched onto a nipple, sucking with bearish hunger. Comet squealed in delight, her body arching, "Yes, Santa! Milk me like I'm your favorite cookie dunk!"

The scene devolved into a whirlwind of erotic chaos, comedic in its sheer excess. Vixen slid down to join the oral assault, her tongue dueling with Dancer's over Klaus's throbbing length, their breasts squishing together in a pillowy embrace that made sloppy, smacking sounds against his skin. Prancer climbed higher, straddling his lap opposite Vixen, their pussies grinding together over his cock in a slippery sandwich of heat and fur. The friction was intense, wet folds sliding against veined hardness, the air thick with the squelching sounds of their arousal and the heady mix of scents—musk, sweat, and holiday spices.

Comet, not one to be left out, positioned herself behind Klaus's chair, reaching around to fondle his chest while whispering dirty nothings in his ear. "Imagine all those kids dreaming of toys, Santa, while we're giving you the ride of your life. Bet your sleigh doesn't fly this high!" Her words were punctuated by Klaus's grunts and the wet symphony below.

As the pleasure built, Klaus's body tensed, his muscles rippling under his fur like waves in a snowy sea. "Girls, I'm—ho ho—gonna blow!" he warned, but they only redoubled their efforts. Vixen deep-throated him with surprising skill, her throat bulging comically as she took more than seemed possible, gagging lightly but powering through with a wink. Dancer and Prancer licked and sucked his balls, their tongues lapping in unison, while Comet pinched his nipples, adding sharp zings of sensation.

With a bellow that shook the candy cane rafters, Klaus came—erupting like a geyser of holiday cheer, thick ropes of cum painting Vixen's face and breasts in pearly white streaks that glistened like fresh snow. The taste was explosive on her tongue—salty, sweet, with that inexplicable minty kick that made her laugh even as she swallowed. "Mmm, Santa's special sauce! Better than hot cocoa!"

The reindeer collapsed in a heap of giggles and gasps, their bodies slick with sweat and fluids, the room reeking of sex and satisfaction. Klaus panted, his chest heaving, but a grin split his muzzle. "Well, ho ho ho, that was one for the books. You does earn your spots on the nice list every year."

But they weren't done—not by a long shot. As the fire crackled on, the night promised more rounds of reindeer games, each more explicit and absurdly funny than the last. After all, in the North Pole, the fun never froze over.

Blacklisted
(help)
  • Comments
    •

    There are no visible comments.