KRAMPUS, 2024


Churro prowled among the guests of his "Naughty List" holiday party with a certain predatory grave. The tiger allowed his fingers, and their sharp claw tips, to tease in sharp caresses along the rump of a german shepherd, grinning as the canine jumped at the menacing sharpness. Churro gave a pleasant squeeze against his friend's meaty buttock, relishing the flush of heat


"Having a nice time?" the tiger asked, his voice silk over steel as he greeted each attendee with a warm, lingering gaze. He couldn't hide the impish glint in his eyes, his teeth gleaming under the festive lights strung across the walls of his living room. The canine scowled, frustrated, but Churro could smell the tang of musk that surged from the horny canine. He couldn't hide the arousal he felt for the masculine feline, not from Churro.


"Don't be a cock tease, not tonight," his friend said, and Churro clucked in mock indignation. 


"Me? Tease? I am sure I have no idea what you could be talking about," he said, slipping back into the crowd and leaving the canine empty handed. Churro floated from one guest to another, leaving a trail of heated whispers, hopeful sighs, and frustrated half-chubs behind him. 


"Nice party," Myrtle said, sipping from her martini with a warm smile upon her long draconian muzzle. The dark furred wyvern had draped herself across the sofa, and patted the space next to her. "Why not sit down for a moment, enjoy yourself?"


Churro stroked two fingers along her slender jawline, lifting it up to blow her a kiss. "I would, of course, but alas - hosting is consuming every second." He stepped closer, allowing the warm bulk of his satiny briefs to press against the back of her shoulder, letting her feel the heft of his loins, warmly tucked away and out of reach. "Such a pity, really! I would love to enjoy myself with you, my dear."


"You're a monster," Myrtle sighed, smiling around the rim of her glass as she took another salty sip. "Don't be surprised if all you get in your stocking this year is coal."


"Now now, we both know Santa won't be stopping off at this house," Churro said. He was savoring the scent of pine from the large tree in the corner, cinnamon from the bowls of warmed punch, and the underlying sweated musk in the air, the fragrances tangling together into a pleasant aura of seasonal decadence. He chatted, he talked, he plied with drinks and tickled and stimulated with words and meaningful glances and soft touches, always teasing, never grasping. 


He was taken completely by surprise when the great grandfather clock struck midnight. He paused, confused, staring at the ornate, ancient timekeeper, not recognizing it at all. Had he always had a clock there, and never noticed it? No, that was silly. 
He sauntered towards the looming bit of furniture, entranced with the deep, resonant bongs as it counted down the moments to Christmas. As the final echo of the twelfth strike faded into silence, every eye turned towards the basement door. Nobody could be sure of why, but like the sound of footsteps on a snow-strewn porch, there was the impression that someone was about to knock on the door.


No knock was needed, as the door swung open, cheap particle board on one side, but somehow shifted into rough hewn, thick and ancient timber on the other. There were shadows on the other side, a gaping void that sucked the heat out of the room and the whispers from the lips of the curious guests. From the shadowed depths emerged Krampus. 


He was a towering figure, coarse fur as stiff and bristly as pine needles, black and gray, with powdered show shivering from between its depths. His curved horns caught glints of crimson and emerald as they spiraled towards the festively decorated ceilings, his fingers and arms spreading wide as he greeted the whole of the gathered party.  His piercing yellow eyes scanned the crowd with an unspoken challenge, and across the room, hackles raised, breaths caught in throats, and fingers reached for phones, eager to capture this moment - or to call for authorities. The demon's presence was an undeniable force that shifted the atmosphere from flirtation to something far more visceral.
The host with the most, the tiger named Churro, felt a shiver trace the length of his spine at the sight of the holiday demon. His eyes widened just so, apprehension tickling deliciously along his spine as he took in the full stature of the malevolent creature. Krampus's baleful eyes had found him, and the demon's dark lips peeled back from ragged, flat teeth in a sadistic smile. Churro's brazen confidence had armored him in a way that his black cotton jock could not, this evening, but now that armor, that confidence fell away. His bravado was a flimsy veil, and would offer him no protection against the raw, masculine power that now stalked towards him.
Krampus approached with deliberate strides, each step a measured assertion of his dominance. Guests stepped out of the way, retracting into each other to avoid being grasped or taken by the infernal ram. He stalked towards the tiger, and though he wanted to flee, Churro stood frozen, the very tip of his tail flicking nervously behind him as the big beast loomed up above him.
"I..." Churro stammered, words unable to slide out between his numb lips. "W-w-welcome to the party-" 
Without preamble, Krampus' large, calloused hand reached out, firmly wrapping around and tightly gripping the bulk of Churro's overfilled jock. The contact sent a jolt through Churro's body, his feline features contorting in a mix of surprise and pain. The rough texture of Krampus' palm pressed against the front of his vulnerable bulge, the demon's palm radiating a frigid cold like dry ice right through the cotton fabric and into the swollen, tender flesh of his prized cock. 
"Ah!" Churro winced, sucking breath between his teeth as the uninvited visitor handled his groin. 


Churro grasped Krampus' wrist with his two hands, but even as his biceps flexed, he could not wrench the thick, icy fingers away from his groin. If anything, Krampus only increased his grip, shifting his fingers to slide over the cap of the underside of his bulge, pressing over the back of the feline's bloated scrotum. "Let go... that's too hard!"
Krampus leaned closer, his voice a low rumble that vibrated against Churro's ear. "Such precious gifts should not be hidden away," he murmured, his hot breath stirring the fine hairs along Churro's neck. "Santa might have a thing for wrapping things up and saving them for a special occasion. Not me, though, Churro."
Churro's heart thudded against his ribcage, a frantic drumbeat in the silence that had enveloped him. The blend of fear and desire was intoxicating, his brain roiling with conflicting thoughts and emotions, sensations and fears, all swirling in a stammering explosion of fireworks in the poor feline's brain. He was stammering something, trying to explain, to defend his 'wrapped' present, but whatever he was saying had no effect - it was as if he was saying nothing at all. Finally, Krampus interrupted him, and Churro was grateful to be able to stop trying to talk at all.
"Tonight," the large ram declared to the room of guests - of friends and acquaintances and hopeful fuck buddies that had come to spend time with Churro on Christmas' Eve - "We have a gift for the truly naughty, a prize RIPE for the claiming."
Whispers spread as guests tilted their heads towards each other, eyes widened and tails flicking with excitement. The apprehension of the demon's arrival cracked open, inviting a lecherous revelry amongst the restrained, well-behaved aggregation. They were staring at Churro, seeds of lecherous collusion blooming in alcohol-stained minds and lust-charged nethers. The atmosphere became electric, charged with a cocktail of surprise and salacious curiosity. The tiger could feel the weight of every gaze upon him, every inch of his body being offered to the group of people he had been so comfortable taunting and teasing and leaving wanting. 
"Who amongst you dares to indulge?" Krampus challenged, his feral grin baring sharp fangs.
Anticipation thickened the air, moments being counted by  the air until it was almost tangible. Whispers fell silent, as the crowd of revelers shrank away from the dark demon's invitation. Well, except for one. Myrtle emerged from her reclination on the couch, sleek black fur shimmering like the obsidian scales that her predecessors had been bedecked with as she strode forward. Her tail coiled through the air behind her, nearly as sinuous as a feline's, and she gestured with an open palm to the held feline.
"I'll indulge," she said, catching Churro's attention as she dragged a claw up along his muscular bicep. "I've been craving this little kitty cat all year long, and I've been nothing but naughty... surely I deserve him? As a treat?"
Krampus clenched his fingers, and Churro's fur bristled on its end as his endowments bulged between the big ram's thick, ice-cold fingers. He clutched against the ram's arms, biting back a whimper and shaking his head. "N-no, no thanks, I'm... not in the mood..."
"Yes, you are," Krampus said, as with a snap of his fingers, a metal collar appeared in his palm. He handed it to the dragoness, dragging Churro forward with his other hand. The dragoness examined the feline, eyes slitting with mirth at the pained, humiliated blush on the feline's muzzle. The metal collar fit perfectly around the striped jock's throat, locking in place with a satisfying click, and as she pulled her hand away from it, a chain of silver, as soft and fine as tinsel, materialized between the collar and her fingers. She pulled back, eyes widening slightly with the sparkle of chain materializing between her fingers, and then squeezed and tugged.
Churro staggered forward, bulging jock yanked free of Krampus' grasp. The demon chortled, as the tiger reached for his throat, coughing and trying to pull the collar free. There was no latch, no button to unclasp it, and as he strained to wedge his fingers underneath it, it shrank, constricting around his throat until his head throbbed with trapped blood. He pulled his hand back, and as he released it, the collar loosened as well, leaving him able to breath again. He glared up at Myrtle, who playfully tugged at the chain again.
"You're mine, now," the dragoness said, and flicked her left leg forward. Supple and graceful, it painted a delicate arc, from where she stood, to the center of the tiger's bulge. The tender bulges of his balls were jammed up and into his inner thighs, her shapely foot resting, imbedded in the heat of his trapped scrotum. "Mine, to do whatever I want with."
The tiger's knees buckled, as pain bloomed up from his flattened eggs, radiating in waves of a nauseating ache. His fat nuts, already tender and swollen with pent up seed, now flooded the tiger's brain with unhappy pain chemicals. A groan seeped out of his throat, a primal challenge muted by the constricting grip of the metal collar.
"Oh, my, look at you!" Myrtle said, retracting her foot from the tiger's groin and allowing him to slump down onto his knees. She circled him, similarly to how he had circled her while she sat on the couch, stepping over his lashing striped tail. "So strong, so powerful, but completely unraveled with a tap of my foot." 
She sauntered back around front, and stepped forward. Her knee pressed against his neck, catching the collar and grinding it against his throat, and her foot found the front of his jockstrap. Claws raked through the fur of his lower belly, and then caught the elastic, shredding through it and releasing the tiger's thickened pink shaft. She stepped down, crushing his flesh under the sole of her foot like a gas pedal, enjoying the feel of her claws digging against his thick shaft. The bulk of his balls kept her foot from resting on the ground, and she stepped down into them anyways. The warm, mammalian eggs felt so good as she crushed them under the ball of her foot, the slippery nuggets trying to squirm away, but she had caught them - had caught them as easily as Krampus had caught the tiger. He reached for them, but she tsk'd at him reproachfully.
"Uh uh uh, that's not the game we're playing tonight," Myrtle said, as she twisted her foot against his aching spuds. His dick thickened, throbbed upwards, darkening with blood along with a hard blush in his ears and across his cheeks. "You don't get to say no, not when you're the party favor. Enjoy your suffering, Churro, because the only thing any of us want to hear from you is pathetic, pained mewing."
"Oh, he's liking that," Eight said. The augmented raccoon was watching as Churro squirmed under the pressure of the dragoness' foot, his eyes locked on the pink, barbed dick that now rubbed against the kneeling tiger's belly fur. His robotic arms shifted with a soft whirr of machinery, his fingers curling into an excited fist. "He's really liking that. Dibs on next."
"Sure, if there's anything left of him," Myrtle said. She reached down, stroking her thumbs against his cheek ruff, and then pushed him backwards. "On your back, kitty. Let's see that dick you've been keeping hidden from us."
He had no choice, his knees groaning as he was bent back over them, his hips resting on his feet and pushed upwards. He glanced over at the smirking, blazing-eyed demon who was enjoying their show, glanced around the amused, unsympathetic faces of his friends, all of them staring at his big, hard, thick cock. He felt himself throb, his cockhead gleaming brightly with precum as it traitorously drank in the attention and stimulation.  
Myrtle's fingers coiled around that proud shaft, her claws sharp, slicing against the tender flesh. Churro hissed, eyes slitting as she dragged that firm grip up along his shaft, enjoying the feel of her claws shaving one of the jutting nubs from the body of his maleness. The small pink barb flexed at first, trying to resist the sharp scythe of her polished, sharpened razor, then bending down, attempting to slide underneath it. The claw pressed down, smoothly scraping flush against the surface of Churro's penis, and the tiger yelped as he felt the sharp, shearing pang of a part of his masculinity being scraped clean off.
Despite that, his erection strained inside the grip of her fingers. With deliberate slowness, she antagonized him, the sharp tips of her claws slicing sharrow furrows into his erection. He begged for her to stop, but she was too excited, too intoxicated on the promise of pleasure that she was finally going to be feeling to care about his whining cries for mercy. She had felt the heat bundled up in his nuts, the need that the tiger had to unload his seed, and she was going to be the one to claim that seed. 
Myrtle straddled Churro, the chain leading to his collar clutched in one hand. She tugged at it with one paw, and rested the other paw on his thick-furred chest. "Stay," She taunted him, as she lowered herself down upon the tiger's slashed, wounded length. Her entrance enveloped him, snug and slick and warm, the velvet grip of her womanhood holding his gashed maleness within her, soothing and aggravating it at the same time. 
Churro whimpered, squirming, as the pressure and friction of her slickened walls aggravated the raw wounds along his shaft. It burned, salty and hot, against the torn and slashed flesh, the sharp heat of his inflamed burns mixing with the pleasure of her stroking vagina against the bulk of his shaft.
The dragoness undulated around and above him, groaning with a rhythm that was both primal and precise. She knew exactly what she was doing, knew exactly what he was feeling, her pussy gripping and peeling at his maleness, peeling the split skin away from itself to bare the naked flesh of his straining shaft. 
She was claiming her prize, maiming his virility in a way that would never properly heal, and with each hint of his shaft being sundered within her, she clenched down harder, filling herself with him more thoroughly. She inflicted every contour of her inner sanctum against his beleaguered flesh, even as she milked him deeper and deeper into tortured ecstacy. 
He knew that the room was watching them, that Krampus was studying his responses, moving behind her with something of his own in his hand. Churro's heavy balls throbbed on the floor between his thighs, dangling down, swollen and angry from the earlier crushing, the cords aching with the constant, dull, nauseous ache of being stretched from holding up their weight.
Myrtle paused her sinuous bucking and riding along Churro's length, canting her head to the side as she sensed the looming presence of the demon behind her. Then, Krampus struck. He was holding a long, slender clump of dried, gnarled wood in one hand, a clump of long and slender birch branches. This bundle was brought sharply down, the gnarled canes slapping over Myrtle's right shoulder, and down over her chest. It crackled as dozens of icy wooden 'threads' crackled across her breast, stinging as they slapped against her soft, tender aureoles. 
The dragoness was shocked, momentarily pausing as she settled down on the root of Churro's shaft, leaving his stinging and buried length embedded fully within her. She arched her back, baring her breasts upwards so that Krampus could flog her again, which he did. Her nipples had already puckered in excitement, a rosy flush spreading along the line of flesh where his birch flog had made an impact. Now he slapped it against her other breast, and the dragoness cried out in a pained, ecstatic moan.
Churro whimpered with her, as she clenched around his length with each assault of the demon's flog against her tender breasts. The crack of each snap mingled with Myrtle's moans and gasps, the dragoness surrendering intuitively to the dominant assault of the ram's punishment against her. The tiger strained to push upwards, his hips nestling against her buttocks, wanting her to ride him, to stroke him with her pussy. He could not escape the situation, but he could make the most of it, and he wanted to seed the magnificent dragoness with his fertile seed, before whatever fate the demon had in store for him was meted out.
Myrtle had no such issues, finding her pleasurable climax waiting for her as she shuddered into it. Her breasts were reddened from their flogging, the dark fur streaked with hints of red, tissues puffy and sensitive with the ragged raking of the demon's branches against her offered flesh. She gasped out, grinding down onto Churro at an uncomfortable angle, bending his shaft at the root in such a way that the broad, straining glans was jammed perfectly along top of her supple cleft, filling her just right as she bore down upon his greatness. She climaxed, loudly, eagerly, enjoying every moment of her well-deserved pleasure at the tiger beneath her's expense.
Churro could only watch on jealously, his balls churning angrily, stewing in their own denied ecstasy. He was fully aware of what could have been, but wasn't, the tiger squirming and shifting uncomfortably as the dragoness received her just punishment. He tried to hunch upwards, tried to get that half-an-inch of stimulation he needed, but the yawning void of unfulfillment claimed whatever orgasm he might have had before he could quite reach it. 
The panting, frustrated tiger collapsed back against the ground, as the dragoness milked the last few spasms of pleasure from her own rapture, smiling dopily.
"Thanks, tiger. I needed that," she said, as she rolled off of him crudely and abruptly. His dick attempted to remain within her, the roughly torpedo-shaped organ thicker in the middle than the root, and the whole thing was tugged at firmly by the natural tight snug clench of her pussy before it was finally disgorged. Ragingly hard despite the violence inflicted upon it, it flopped against his stomach and then rose up, pointing accusingly at the ram who loomed over him, a bead of fresh precum welling at the tip. 
"That was great," the dragoness said, as she stood up on languid legs. She stroked fingers along her soft mound, smiling down at the tiger and giving him a wink, then staggered back towards the couch. She had left the scent of her lust and pleasure upon the tiger, tainted with the taste of his own frustration, the tiger carefully sitting back up to give his knees a break from the extended awkward position of laying down with them folded under him.
Krampus wasn't done with him yet, though. The dark ram gestured to the crowd, summoning forth the next of the tiger's abusers; Eight. The raccoon grinned, clenching his harsh metal fingers together with an ominous clacking sound, and approached.
"Don't worry, I won't be hurting your dick," the racoon taunted, as he stepped past Krampus and knelt down in front of the erect, frustrated tiger. "I'll be giving your balls a nice, deep tissue massage." He gestured to his own groin, where his own erection jutted up over a void that had long since healed over, a gap where there had once been testicles. "Don't worry, I've had practice."
Churro shook his head, as Myrtle handed the leash over to Eight. He wanted to protest, to deny Eight from having access to his loins, but the raccoon lifted up on the chain, pulling the collar against the underside of his jaw. "I said, don't worry."
The raccoon slunk down, settling in front of Churro with his knees pressing against the tiger's own. He coiled the leash loosely around his own neck, fastening the end into a slip knot. Somehow, having the raccoon be tethered to him this way made the tiger even more nervous. The raccoon smelled of dish soap and bicycle chains, his metal finger sliding teasingly down the shared leash.
"You haven't accepted it yet, have you?" Eight asked, as he glanced around at the other guests. People had been gradually warming up to the appearance of the demon, had been stripping themselves down, fondling and rubbing themselves and each other, watching the free show under the imperious glare of the large satyr. "You're still convincing yourself you don't deserve this."
"I don't!" Churro whispered, the finger along the chain tugging down, the collar tightening reproachfully.


"Brat," Eight whispered, tauntingly. His other hand slid down and scooped under the bulk of the tiger's heavy testicles, the smooth and inflexible metal cold against the heated flesh. "Wasting all your time and energy on denying what is obviously the truth. It's okay, Churro. Me and you, we're the same that way."
"I'm-" But Churro couldn't speak again, the collar pinching off his voice once more. He wasn't allowed to disagree, but he needed to, it was the only form of control he had in this situation - to display that he didn't agree to this. He closed his lips, looking down at the way his large testes filled the smaller male's metallic paws. 
"Look at you, so erect! Oh, I remember when I was so rampantly hard, like this... completely beholden to my hormones. Hormones made by these fat fuckers, mm?" Eight teased. His other paw had joined the first, and he was tugging, slowly stretching the bulky eggs away from Churro's body. "So blindly obedient to those chemicals, aren't you? That will make this even more fun. You only think you're in control of your body. You're not, though. These are. And I'm going to prove it."
Krampus circled slowly around the two performers, watching as the raccoon lovingly caressed the fat balls. His smooth metallic fingers were stroking slow, rhythmic patterns into the soft white fur of Churro's pouch, dimpling into the soft flesh underneath with an unyielding strength that made the big tiger shudder. His mind raced with anxiety, imagining the raccoon clenching his fingers, a single mistake causing his metal talons to pulp his balls into mush. 

Humiliatingly, his cock throbbed at the thought, a blob of precum running down the side of it as it oozed copiously from the tip. Eight saw it, and his fingers moved, finger tips pinching into the skin on the front of the tiger's scrotum, just in front of either testicle. Fingertips pinched firmly, and then peeled apart, and the tiger's scrotum split open like the husk from an ear of corn. Churro's hands twitched, but he could not find the strength, the ability to grab at the raccoon's paws, as the collar around his neck fizzled and tingled against the back of his spine. Fey magicks kept his muscles mostly inert, only able to twitch and flex.
There were his balls. The large gray and pink globes flopped out of his torn scrotum, rounded and heavy, the oblong testicles gleaming and swollen. There was a purplish hue to the left one, and an angry reddening along the epididymis of the right one, but they were intact. Churro stared at them, entranced, as Eight's robotic fingers curled around and cupped and began to knead them.
The flesh dimpled and distended, as the robotic fingers clamped down. There was a precision to the abuse, as the metal probed deep into the crackling flesh, the inner tubules crushed with wet, squirting sounds under the unforgiving examination.
"I used to do this to myself, you know," the raccoon teased, as he flattened the precious gonads between his fingers. The fleshy eggs flattened, bulging outwards as the centers were casually crushed nearly completely between fingertips.
Churro's face contorted in agony, as playful, mechanical fingers pulped delicate tubules inside his testicles, intricate matrixes of stem cells being crushed into bruised, ruptured flesh. "Though mine weren't quite as soft and fluffy as yours are."
There was a suspiciously wet sound, and the tiger's left testicle ballooned abruptly outwards along the bottom, the cartilaginous shell bulging obscenely with a sudden shift of liquified remnants to the bottom. The fleshy gray skin was stretched thin enough to be transparent, the ruined gibbets of ruptured nuts bulging intensely as the cruel fingers pinched into the hard flesh.
Churro tried to scream, his tongue pushed hard against the back of gritted teeth, fingers and toes splayed in an excruciating rictus of suffering. He could only watch as the raccoon tapped his fingers together, repeatedly squelching flesh, using his testicles' own sturdy protective barriers to crush the tissue inside. 
"A nice, deep tissue massage always does wonders, doesn't it? Just think about it, all your worries and stressors, being broken down and melted away," Eight mused, as he scrunched his fingers down tight and bulged Churro's right nut out between hinged digits. "I mean, you just-"
SPLATCH
It wasn't a total rupture, but Churro's torso twitched, muscles clenching as the backside of his distended, overwrought, oversensitive testicles yielded. He felt the hot wet splash of ruined orb milk splatter against the inside of his thighs, seeping and trickling down into the pelt of his lean buttocks. The raccoon was still clutching his nuts, the ruined undersides missing from underneath his fists, his thumbs dimpling into the swollen tops of the ruined eggs.
"Please-" Churro panted, his head twitching slightly back and forth. He could feel the remnants of his nuts, tight and constrained, the fleshy innards being crushed between the raccoon's fingers. "No more, no more, I need them!"
"Oh!" Eight said. He grinned, and then nodded agreeably. "If you wish." And then, he relaxed his grip. His fingers allowed the tiger's balls to return to their normal size, no longer distending in a grotesque, cartoonish bulge. With nothing holding his nuts in, they drooped out, the tissues dangling in hot drooling strands of greasy tiger sex flesh, hanging from the ruptured cocoon that they had been packed in for so many years before plopping wetly onto the floor.
Churro felt the burn of the naked air inside his balls, as they emptied themselves out uselessly onto the floor. And then, he felt Eight squeeze, one last time, dislodging the last of his nut guts from inside his testicles in one last pathetic splatter into the puddle between his legs. 
"I knew you'd like it," Eight said. He let the crumpled, empty, useless husks drop into the pool of slime that had been the flesh that they had protected for decades. He reached forward, to press a finger tip into the thick, curdled slime that clung like buttercream frosting to the tip of the tiger's shaft. He had oozed, squirted, secreted the pure seed out at some point, though he had not felt any pleasure at all. 
Churro's cheeks reddened in humiliation and loss, as the raccoon scooped up the steaming, gellid remains of his virility on one metallic finger, and then licked it free of his finger tip. "A man's last cum is always his most special." 
Krampus approached, then, as Eight handed the leash back to the large satyr. He had procured a canvas sack, a strap keeping it hanging along his side, and it bulged with stolen weight, the bottom of it dripping with... fluids. He approached Churro, and picked the helpless feline up by the back of his neck. Churro hung, limp and boneless from the ram's hand, his toes skimming through the slimy remnants of his big nuts. He was hopeless, broken, his brain swimming in shock and pain and horror, reeling with the repeated sensation of his prized orbs popping like water balloons, failing in the raccoon's mechanical grip. 
Krampus wasn't finished yet, though. He reached into the canvas bag, pulling out the slimy, pinkish orb of a cervid; a ram or a deer perhaps. It had one of those bumpy things on the bottom of it, the broken tiger mused. Krampus showed the fresh, gleaming intact testicle to the tiger, and then closed his fist. The orb crumpled, easily covered by the ram's big fingers, and the demon clenched until his knuckles went white. There was no mess, no goo or blood or ooze drooling between his fingers, just a soft tinkling, crinkling sound. The demon's fingers tightened one final time, and then uncurled, revealing a roughly egg shaped piece of blackened coal. 
The coal ignited, flames licking around the edges, and  Krampus stroked his thumb along it, whittling off stray ridges and protrusions. The demon's other hand grasped Churro's maimed, leaking shaft, pulling down and stripping the skin off of the shaft, cleanly and simply. The glans remained skinned, but the bulk of the tiger's cock was immediately and abruptly sheared off its pretty pink skin, revealing the bulging erectile tissue that made up the bulk of his shaft. 
The rough, icy grip of the satyr wrapped around the bulk of his naked flesh, and he stroked it, firm and slow, squeezing in against the tiger's shaft and sanding into the tender tissue with the rough, chapped pads of his palms and fingers. There was no affection or intention of pleasure behind it, but the stimulation - as overwhelming as it was - served its purpose, and Churo's wilting, skinned erection flared to rigidness once more. 
Then, Krampus inserted the burning coal. The narrowed tip of it was about as thick as the tiger's pinkie, and the blue flame that flickered over the freshly-created coal hissed as they were extinguished against Churro's slick piss lip. The jizz that had remained after Eight's tasting crisped away from the heat, creating the slightest of heat shields that was quickly thrust through by the rough push of the demon's palm.
The coal forced its way down and into Churro's shaft, stretching it painfully around the rough, burning ember of glowing rock. The tiger screeched out a cry of dismay, peering hopefully around, looking for a single face that might come to his aid, to at least tell the demon to stop in its torture of his precious cock. Every face he saw watched with rapt, hypnotic fascination, staring as the tapering coal was forced another inch down into his shaft.


The head split only after two or so thick inches. It had tucked inwards, going concave as it attempted to resist the brutal probing thickness of the hot coal, but as Krampus twisted the big rock in his hand, the flesh tore apart. The inner lining of his urethra couldn't take the hot, scraping, gouging pressure of the rough rock, and split, and without that for the spongy tissue to cling to, it split apart as well. 
Krampus didn't give Churro much time to think about what was happening to his shaft, as he buried more of it deeper into the failed penis. The head was sizzling, cooking around the rock as it was pushed inside the shaft itself, its own bulk helping to split the primary meat of the tiger's dick apart and away from itself. There was just too much pressure, too much being shoved into it at once, and the tiger's toes skidded through his congealing cum as he tried to scamper away from the mind-numbing agony that bloomed in his groin.
His shaft had been inverted by the end, the whole mass of it rupturing as it was inverted into itself. The rock never lost any of its heat, searing and boiling the flesh that it was lodged down into, cooking the tiger's meat as it was jammed firmly down into it. Churro could feel the heat of it, a horrible constant painful burning itch as it was lodged through the base of his penis and into the center of his groin.
"Please," Churro asked, as Krampus released the stone, a trail of acrid, musky smoke steaming out from the bubbling mass where the root of his dick had been. "Please." He didn't know what he was asking for, but it was all too much, more than he could handle, and it needed to end.
Krampus only smiled, letting the tiger rest back on his own feet. Churro's paws slipped on the gooey floor, and he crumpled down, whimpering with the pain in his groin as the hot rock simmered beneath the surface.
"I'll take it out, when it stops burning," Krampus said, tapping the side of the grandfather clock that had announced his arrival. 
"When will that be?" Churro asked, his voice dry and scratchy, his tongue sliding over bleeding lips. He must have bitten them. He could taste the copper of his blood.
Krampus merely snickered, as he moved back to the looming darkness of the basement. He began to step down, into the darkness from whence he came, but paused. He looked over his shoulder, sneering at the tiger, his eyes blazing with the same color of fire that had engulfed the stone. "When you stop enjoying it."
And with that, he left Churro, the tiger clutching at his groin that simmered with unquenched heat, his genitals ruined and his mind soaked in a hot liquor of agony.