“Your father gave you so fucking much, and how did you fucking repay him? By being some fucking bum on his fucking couch? Well I think it’s time you learned how to show your father the fucking respect he deserves, boy,” Stan said.
Another red name–another horrid young man deserving Santa’s punishment. This one–Liam–was nothing but a lazy moocher. Dropped out of college after two years–he couldn’t handle the pressure. He moved into his father’s basement and has barely left since. Couldn’t even bother to get a job, just a chubby, stinking lout Stan had found snoring on the couch in front of the TV, even as his father worked two menial jobs to support them both. Well no more of that. “I don’t, I mean–” Liam tried to say, but with a twinkle of magic, his lips suddenly shut themselves.
“No, I think what we need is your father down here, to help you learn to appreciate everything he’s given you,” Stan said, and with a snap of his fingers, Liam could hear someone upstairs above them, and a few moments later, his father came marching down the stairs, naked, not at all sure what was going on, and why he couldn’t control his own body. “Jerry! I was just talking with your slacker of a son here about how he’s wasted his life and your generosity. I think, if anything, it’s time for you to take a load off, what do you think? Liam–get up–let your dad here rest his tired feet.”
The son stood up, and his father took a seat, both of them terrified of this massively obese Santa figure in their midst, and neither of them able to control their own bodies. Jerry plopped down on the old couch, and with a flash, both of them were twisted up in Stan’s magic. When the light died away, Jerry tried to get up, but discovered that…he couldn’t. No, not that he couldn’t that he didn’t want to. That he didn’t have to. This was his fucking house after all, he deserved a chance to fucking enjoy it! Liam, on the other hand, found himself overwhelmed by his father there, dropped to his knees and licking his father’s feet…just…just like he always did.
As Stan watched, Jerry’s body began to expand, filling in with fat, his hair growing long, lank and unwashed, mouth reeking as he leered down at his boy slathering his nasty feet with spit. “Yeah boy, work that fuckin’ tongue–show daddy how glad you are that he let’s ya live here with him.”
Still…not enough. He tried to resist the urge for a moment, looking at the father and son. Surely this was enough punishment, right? But he wanted to see them suffer anyway, and his mind, it wouldn’t stop imagining the most horrendous things…“Here Jerry, have a smoke–enjoy yourself,” Stan said, handing him a thick cigar he hadn’t noticed in his hand to him, which Jerry was more than happy to light up, while Stan got down in front of the very confused Liam. “I know it can be hard, supporting your father like this, but you do it for family, right? Holding down three jobs…not that you don’t enjoy them. Janitor at a local gym–gives you plenty of time to perv out in those nasty locker rooms right? Trashman in the mornings, but you like that too–picking up all that junk, hell, the nastier something stinks, the harder it gets you, right? Hell, just walking into those porta-potties you clean out on the weekends is enough for you to shoot a load into those filthy coveralls you never take off, right?” He stood back up and looked down at Liam, now a very different young man. He was wearing the nastiest coveralls Stan had ever seen, moaning loudly and rubbing his cock as he worshiped his father’s feet. He looked over at Jerry, and the cigar he’d given Jerry was doing it’s work–he’d packed on so many pounds all of a sudden that he probably wouldn’t be able to stand up even if Jerry wanted to. The father’s guts gave a rumble, and he farted–Liam immediately shoving his face between his dad’s massive thighs, snorting in the foul stench, cum splattering it’s way from his cock across the base of the couch.
“I know ya gotta get tah work soon boy, but Daddy’s got a big load of shit for you, and I know ya don’t wanna clean it up off the couch tonight. Well, I know ya like cleanin’ it off the couch, but I don’t feel like sittin’ in it all day, waitin’ fer ya tah git home.”
“Sure…sure thing Daddy…But…maybe ya can piss while I’m gone, ‘n I can suck that out? I’m always so thirsty when I get home,” Liam said, and pushed his dad’s legs up, giving him better access to his dad’s shithole. Stan didn’t want to watch…but he did anyway. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the scene, and couldn’t tear his hand from his cock, eventually giving in, getting down behind Liam, ripping the back of his coveralls open a bit wider so he could slam his cock into the boy’s disgusting hole. He fucked him quickly, but after he came he couldn’t bear to be there any longer, and fled back up to the roof as quickly as he could, unable to believe what he’d just done to those two men. That…that he’d wanted to do that to them.
He’d been trying to avoid admitting it, but he was changing. This job, was changing him. This wasn’t the person he wanted to be, this wasn’t good, what he was doing, and yet…he didn’t want to stop. He didn’t want to stop, because in his heart, he enjoyed it. But this wasn’t God’s work, this wasn’t the work of any God. He…someone had to stop him. He couldn’t stop himself, but maybe…maybe he could get out of this somehow, stop anything like what he’d just done from happening again. He had to, this was out of control, and Stan knew that if he didn’t do something soon, he’d never be in control ever again. Because this…this felt too good. And that scared him more than anything else. He’d…he’d do it at the next stop, no matter what, before he lost his nerve, and before he got anymore lost in this…joy.
Bracken's Corner 