He shouldn’t drink it, he knew that…he just wasn’t quite sure why anymore. Santa had the bottle of elf cum in his hand, massaging one of his fat moobs with the other, tweaking his nipple. Something about…about getting fatter, but that was alright, wasn’t it? After all, he liked being this fat, and he even liked the idea of getting even bigger. Something in his head was telling him that wasn’t right, that he shouldn’t be this fat at all, that the elves had done something to him, but it all seemed to fade away the harder he tried to grasp at it.
His gut rumbled–hungry again already. He was turning every other guy into a feeder just to keep his huge gut satisfied, and while he hadn’t gained as much as with Aaron, he was still growing. He liked that actually. He liked getting bigger, fatter…he couldn’t reach his cock anymore, but he rocked back and forth a bit in the seat of the sleigh, feeling his cock slip in and out of his gunt, and finally popped the top off the bottle and guzzled it down. That was much better, he thought to himself, and hefted himself out of the sleigh, dug out the presents for the next house, and squeezed his way down the chimney. The tree was in the living room, and he slid the presents underneath, and then found the milk and cookies left for him, hammered down the cookies, took a drink of milk, and sputtered it across half the room.
It tasted terrible, rotten. Who in the hell leaves out rotten milk for Santa? Whoever lived here, he was gonna get it, but first he had to find something to wash down these cookies. He tried a glass of water, but it too tasted horrible, as did the soda, and juice he tried from the fridge. Something was wrong with him, something terrible. He knew he shouldn’t have drank that bottle of cum…even if he didn’t quite know why, but the thirst was only getting worse. What did he want? Everything was just too sweet, he wanted something bitter, something bitter and warm…warm…why was his crotch warm?
Piss was dribbling out the sides of the red rubber jock he had on under his black chaps, and onto the carpet. It was warm, and he could…smell it. Santa gave a loud snort, and then another one, breathing fast, getting down on his knees, pressing his bearded mouth into the carpet, grinding it into the warm piss before trying to suck it out with his lips, but it wasn’t enough, not nearly enough. There might be more in…in the bathroom. He hefted himself up and lumbered down the hall, but like the rest of the house it was perfectly cleaned, the whole place was too god damn clean!
Frustrated and horny, he couldn’t even control the burst of magic that rocketed out from where he stood. One moment, the bathroom was clean, the next, the walls were molding, the sink clogged with hair, the shower dry and unused for years, and the toilet, oh the toilet…the water had all turned to piss, and it was brimming with it, concentrated from who knew how many loads, and Santa, snorting eagerly, thrusting his face into it, sucking and lapping it up. He’d drained it halfway when he heard the voice down the hall, “What…what the fuck happened to my house!” A moment later, Frank, the wealthy clean freak who owned the house was in the doorway, staring at the obese, filthy Santa Claus kneeling in front of his toilet, piss dribbling from the beard. Santa leered at him, but before he could run, magic had stuck his bare feet to the floor, and he was changing.
Muscle bound, yeah, muscles with a gut, a fucking workout pig, his pits reek to high heaven, and he loves it, he loves it so much, yeah, look at him sniff those pits, he wants to soak me down in his piss, he wants to soak me down–
No, no, not enough.
Yeah, look at him now, look at that belly sticking out of that grungy leather biker vest covered with hair. Still muscle though, and taller, wide, rough, mean. Hasn’t trimmed his beard in years, or his hair. Chain smoking cigars, can smell the smoke from here. You can see the piss stain on those jeans, can’t wait to suck on them, can’t wait to suck the piss out of the front of them, fuckin’ filthy biker bear–
No, still not…not enough.
Fat yeah, make him fatter. Dumb, fuckin’ dumb trailer trash muscle beast. His beard, fuck grows so fuckin’ fast, three inches a day, all the way to his fuckin crotch, hair too, knotted, ratty, his body covered with hair, matted with sweat. Never had a shower. Makes Pigs clean him, fuck yeah, pigs like me clean that filthy body for him all night long…
Santa was crawling towards him, snorting hungrily. Frank was trying to figure out what had just happened to him. He reeked, he reeked so fuckin’ much, but look at that pig, he’d never known Santa was a hot nasty pig like that. Yeah, they could…they could have lots of fun, fuck yeah. He didn’t even notice that he was pissing, but Santa caught most of it, taking the uncut head of Frank’s cock in his mouth, drinking down the fresh piss, cleaning out the cheese with his tongue before Frank wrapped his hands around the back of Santa’s head and fucked his huge cock down Santa’s pig throat. He took a drag off his cigar, and blew a plume of foul smoke down at Santa, and noticed that he looked a bit different too.
His face…he actually did look a bit more like a pig. His nose was flatter for one thing, pushed flat into a short snout. His body had just been fat, but it was filling in with perfectly white long hairs, thick, like a pelt. He gripped the fur in his hand, and it was oily and grungy with sweat and filth and piss. He finally came deep in Santa’s throat, and the fat man leaned back, revealing a short wide cock buried in fat. Frank got down and cleaned the folds of piss with his tongue before sucking on Santa’s cock, listening to him squeal and grunt in pleasure, before finally letting loose a blast of cum that Frank swallowed down. But he was still tired, so tired. He got up, yawned, and stumbled back into the small bed he had in his filthy trailer. Santa rolled over onto his belly, panting, and hefted himself up. He squealed when he saw his face in the mirror, but after a couple of blinks, he couldn’t quite remember why he was so scared at the piggish nose, the long tangled beard and hair. Hadn’t….hadn’t he always looked like that? His nose led him back to the toilet bowl, and he drank the rest of the piss, licking it completely dry, before leaving the bathroom.
His head was all a fog. He just couldn’t quite fit all the pieces together anymore. He was hot though, a fuckin’ hot piggy. He wandered past the small fake tree next to the soiled couch in Frank’s new home, and got back onto the roof where his reindeer were waiting, and back into the sleigh. At least there was still one more bottle of cum he could drink, but later. He’d just drank so much piss, he’d have to wait a few hours for sure.
Bracken's Corner 