“How do I look?”
“Handsome as always, daddy,” John said, and with a few grunts, he adjusted a strap of Stanta’s harness, making sure it ran from shoulder to the central ring along the most handsome line. He smiled up at Stanta, and even though it wasn’t the first time he’d seen it, when Stanta smiled back at him with that odd warmth of his, he found it difficult to contain the strange joy it gave him every time. He turned away and blushed, but Stanta had wrapped both arms around him and pulled John into his chest, his snout turned towards one of his daddy’s musky pits, and he felt his piggy cock jump as the smell.
Stanta had been exhausted when he’d finally returned to the house, and John had spent the next few days focusing on caring for him, and as the days of recovery wore on, Stanta found himself surprised by this strange boarman, and the strength he exuded. Had that always been there? He wasn’t quite sure. He’d spent so much time wrapped up in his dreams and plans of vengeance for the last year that he hadn’t quite allowed himself the chance to feel much of anything else. But something had happened, and everyone could feel it. The world didn’t seem quite so dark any longer.
If Timmy had had any mind left, he might have recalled his surprise at the light’s selection of Stan the year before. He had expected the light to choose someone from a more conservative bent, and certain it’s choice of Stan had been that on the surface, but now, he would have seen something different. The light wasn’t searching for conservatism, the light had been searching for balance, and it seemed to have found it.
John pushed away from the hug with a snort, Stanta reached for his hard piggy cock, but John shook his head. “It’ll still be here when you get back, daddy–you have a job to do!” He shoved Stanta towards the door, and he gave a booming laugh which rang through the dark night outside. The elves were running to and fro on the runway, double checking manifests, looking at last minute changes to the various naughty lists Stanta had drafted up over the last year, detailing men all over the world who would need to some form of punishment for a whole variety of reasons this coming trip. Petey was in the thick of it, shouting orders, and he looked frustrated that Stanta wasn’t already in the sleigh, the reindeermen prancing eagerly, Rudolph’s cock erect and shining bright in the flurries of snow.
Still, he pulled John close and gave the pig one last, long kiss. He’d offered to help John return to his more normal form already, but he’d refused. “I’d rather get something as a Christmas present, daddy,” he’d told him, “Make me into something fun next year, that we can both enjoy.”
Stanta still hadn’t quite decided on what that was going to be, but he had quite a few ideas rolling around in his head. But one thing he knew he’d never be able to change was the fact that, after all of this, John had finally become a man–a son–that he loved, deeply, and without reservation, and without some silly love gun to make it happen.
Indeed, the gun had been sealed away down in the basement of the house, along with the hundreds of other dangers previous Santas and the elves had faced over the eras. The urinals–and the remaining eggs–were sealed away as well, and that one even deeper and tighter than the rest. Marty would have laughed, knowing that his strange, failed creation had caused so much havoc over the last year, though he would have found no joy knowing it was the fruits of his own labor which had brought his rebellion to an end, at last.
Stanta climbed up into the sleigh, and found his list, excitement stirring at all the names on his list, and this year, all of them in red! Yes, that old Santa, who’d revelled in giving gifts to boys and girls all over the world was gone now–the world would now hear tales of a new Stanta, who punished evil men all over the world, one who spread sex and mischief in his wake at every turn. It was a whole new Christmas, really, and with the crack of a whip, the reindeer took off down the runway and into the sky, towing the sleigh behind, leaving Petey and John beside one another on the runway, the elves cheering and celebrating around them.
“I never did get to thank you properly, Petey,” John said, “If you hadn’t found me that night, in the snow, I don’t know what I could have done without you.”
“Give yourself a bit of credit,” Petey said in reply, “Still, if you really want to thank me, I have a few suggestions.”
With a laugh, John picked the elf up in his arms and carried him off into the workshop, the elves clustering around them, tearing off each other’s leather pants and harnesses for a night of revelry. Christmas had returned, Christmas was reborn, Christmas was a miracle–one they hoped would last for centuries to come.