Mrs. Claus is not amused
The arctic snow and wind of the North Pole blew into Derpy's face as her wings beat to drive her forward against the gale. Any other delivery pony would have given up and turned back by now, but she was not just any delivery pony, now was she?
No, she had letters from the first batch of ponies to move here to Earth, and by Celestia, she would ensure that Santa got those letters. The foals' first Christmas would be proper! Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo, Apple Bloom, and her own little Dinky. Their pleading eyes stuck in Derpy's memory and she held onto that vision as she fought the horrible arctic weather.
She saw light up ahead. Squinting into the icy wind, she shifted her angle and dove, circling clockwise to approach downwind. A sudden cross-wind gust grabbed her and smashed her through a plate glass window. Her head rang and she lost consciousness and we she came to, Santa, Mrs. Claus, several elves, and a herd of reindeer were glaring at her.
Derpy levered herself to her hooves and noticed she was standing in a stable, hay thick on the floor. "Merry Christmas?" Derpy ventured with a lopsided grin. "That's some storm, huh?"
"You ruined Christmas," Santa declared.
Derpy's face fell as she remembered Dinky's excited face.
"Rudolph is dead," Santa continued.
"What?" Derpy said.
Santa pointed behind Derpy. She turned and saw a number of does sobbing around a sheet-covered body, a large piece of plate glass from the broken window visible through the sheet.
Derpy swallowed and reached a wing into her bag. "I brought letters for you! We ponies are new here on Earth and we only learned about the tradition today. My daughter and her friends wrote their letters and I brought them here..."
Santa made no effort to grab the letters. He glared at her, as jolly as an ebola epidemic.
"You saw the weather," Donner said. "We need Rudolph's bright nose to have a prayer of getting off the ground and onto the delivery run. Christmas is canceled. We'll be lucky to make President's Day, the way this storm looks."
Derpy felt panic brewing. "Christmas can't be canceled, we ponies just learned about it! And the true meaning of Christmas!"
Mrs. Claus raised an eyebrow. "What do you think is the true m—"
"How Ninja Princess Luna took Baby Jesus to Ra's Al Ghul for twelve years to learn his powers so he could kick the money changers' asses out of the temple."
Blitzen looked at Mrs. Claus. "She's closer than most people."
"Look," Santa said, leaning down and poking Derpy in the snout, "unless you can produce a fog-busting intranasal fluorescent discharge, Christmas isn't happening."
Derpy narrowed her eyes, thinking. "Does it have to be intranasal? What if I can lead your sleigh?"
Santa nodded grimly. "I would be forever grateful if you find a way to save Christmas."
Derpy smiled. "First, our letters. Make the presents happen." She passed over the fillies' letters.
Mrs. Claus took them and read. "Dinky wants a Nintendo Switch. Scootaloo wants a Segway scooter. Apple Bloom wants her brother to stop sleep—oh! Oh my. Oh goodness gracious. And Sweetie Belle wants a pressure cooker."
"Yeah, just get Sweetie Belle a Switch, too," Derpy said. "The pressure cooker is a bad plan."
Santa pointed at an elf. "Make them happen." Santa then looked at Derpy. "Okay. Light?"
She rummaged into her bag, removing a jar of CPU heatsink paste and a massive fleshlight.
"That's a sex toy," Santa said.
Mrs. Claus glared at him. "How do you know that?"
"What? I take presents to New Orleans."
Mrs. Claus facepalmed.
"It's not just a fleshlight," Derpy said. "It's a one million candlepower fleshlight!"
Derpy smeared heat sink paste all up-and-down the fleshlight's handle and then placed it on the ground, the silicone vagina facing down, and then squatted over it. She slowly lowered her hindquarters until the blunt back end of the toy touched her asshole. She grunted and panted, but lowered herself down, her acrobatic ass taking in the whole toy over the course of about two minutes.
"Ta-da!" she said, jumping to her hooves. She spun in a circle, displaying to all the fleshlight's silicon vagina projecting from her anus.
"There's no light," Comet said.
Derpy said with a grin, "Who's first?"
"Me," Donner said, pointing his antlers at the shroud-covered body of Rudolph. "She killed my son, it's only fair."
Mrs. Donner glared.
Donner hopped up on Derpy's back and stuck his dick in.
"You're not lighting up," Mrs. Donner said, leaning close to Derpy's face.
"It's cum-powered," Derpy explained.
Donner started pumping, his eyes closing as he rutted, and after a minute his tail flagged vertical, his balls clenched, and he grunted as he unloaded himself into the fleshlight.
Like the flash of a nuclear bomb, the reindeer stable was filled with penetrating yellow light as two massive searchlight beams — one pointing straight ahead, one angled off to the side — blasted from Derpy's eyes.
Santa, covering his eyes, gave a delighted "Ho-ho-ho!" and his belly jiggled. "Christmas is saved!"
"Truely," Mrs. Claus said sourly, "nothing illustrates the true meaning of Christmas quite as much as xenophilic sodomy."
They attached the reindeers to the sleigh as the elves loaded the bags of presents. Derpy took her place at the front of the traces, in Rudolph's former position.
Her light faded, returning the North Pole night to darkness and howling, icy wind.
"Derpy!" Santa shouted. "We need more light!"
"I need more cum," she said. "Better pack a case of Red Bull and viagra for the reindeer, they'll have to take turns recharging me every twenty minutes or so all night."
Blitzen unhooked from the traces and jumped onto Derpy's back. As soon as he came inside the fleshlight, Derpy's eyebeams of Christmas perversion once again lit up the arctic night and they lifted into the air and turned towards the international dateline and the first deliveries.
And that is how Derpy, sodomy, and energy drinks saved the foals' first Christmas.