I almost didn’t write one of these this year, but it just didn’t feel right not doing something for Christmas, but I was a bit lacking in inspiration. Still, here we go again, continuing off from where we left Santa, Marty, Timmy, Claude and all the elves last year, and the year before that. If you need a refresher course in what’s happened, you can find every previous entry from the last two years here, in reverse order, naturally. This year’s entry will have a bit of a slow start unfortunately, but I hope you all enjoy it, and Merry Christmas! I’ll have another present for all my Patreon supporters tomorrow as well.

Nothing. That’s what had happened in the workshop so far. Well, not exactly nothing–the mass of elves had been hard at work, at least, crafting an all new manner of disturbing and perverse toys for the men of the world to enjoy come Christmas day. But, as far as having someone deliver them, or as far as having a head elf to take charge and lead them through the final push to the holiday, which by now was a mere week away…nothing.

True, last Christmas had been a fiasco, between Timmy plotting against Santa and turning him into a near total pig, Timmy resurrecting Marty from his rubber prison, only for Marty to turn around and…well, no one knew what had happened to Claude, exactly. Marty had dragged him into his workshop, and no one had seen him since. Marty had emerged at dawn long enough to run out onto the runway, shoot the newly swined Santa with his  prototype love gun, only to have Santa turn on Marty–the new love of his life–and turn him into a pig as well. And so, there things stood. Marty and taken Santa with him back into his private workshop, Timmy had disappeared into his own private lair with the remains of Marty’s love gun, and neither of them had emerged once for almost a year. The elves were getting anxious. If nothing changed soon…then what? There were, of course, counter-measures in place for a missing Santa, but those required a head elf to instigate, and no one had been designated as the interim leader. All they could do now, was wait, and hope something happened before Christmas Eve.

That day, however, something did happen, at last. Timmy burst from his workshop, cackling like a madman, a sizable beard on his face, holding aloft the repaired and improved gun Marty had abandoned after shooting Santa the year before. Finally, it was done. If Marty didn’t love him, then Timmy would just have to make his fellow elf fall in–or out–of love. His version could destroy a relationship as fast as it could make one, and he stormed across the floor of the workshop, shoving elves out of his way like he didn’t even see them, until he came to the door of Marty’s workshop, rattled the door on it’s hinges, and shouted, “I know you’re still in there Marty, and you’re gonna love me whether you want to or not!”

He pulled a key from his pocket–a masterkey he’d invented that could defeat any lock–slid it into the latch, broke the lock, flung open the door…and his heart sank. Marty–the Marty he’d known–his workshop had always been more chaotic than not, but it was chaos backed by planning and creativity. There was order there, even if he’d never been able to see it, but this…this was madness. The entire room was trashed. It looked like no work had been done in months, if not longer. How long had Marty been able to withstand it? Not long enough. The two pigs were rutting against a wall–the fatter one, Santa, although he had lost nearly all traces of his once humanity at this point, was squealing and throwing himself back at the stunted boar behind him, ramming a massive cock into his hole. It turned to Timmy when the door opened, but it’s eyes–they were dark and feral, they didn’t even recognize him, or even care that it was being watched. He was too late–much, much too late to be able to do any good. But…now what?

He stepped back and closed the door behind him, and found himself faced with every elf on the floor of the workshop, or on the catwalks, all staring down at him. A few were happy, or perhaps simply relieved, but most were angry. He’d…he’d let them down, and he looked to the digital clock counting down to launch, and his stomach bottomed out. He’d been so lost in his work, he hadn’t even grappled with how much time he’d wasted on the whole fool’s errand, and yet…it still hurt. It hurt more than anything, knowing that not only did Marty not love him, but that Marty…Marty was gone. Gone forever, probably. But he couldn’t think about that. He couldn’t do anything about that now, and so he pulled the door shut and locked it again, and called a meeting of the elves.

He apologized. He was begrudgingly forgiven, but the elves knew they had a bigger problem. Without a Santa, there could be no Christmas, and if there was no Christmas–well, then they would all cease to exist–forever. Thankfully, there were emergency measures that could be taken, and had been taken before, when a Santa had, for whatever reason, been lost, or abandoned their post. In fact, there had been many, many different Santa’s over the years, and all of them had brought their distinct flair to the position–leading in many cases to the variety of myths surrounding him. The elves biggest mistake, by far, was the serial killer Krampus they’d selected who’d run around the world murdering children for close to a century, before finally getting knocked off himself. Timmy declared the state of emergency, and from outside the workshop came a strange rumbling. The elves ran out to investigate, and found that Santa’s house was shaking until a bright light–a beacon, really–rose from the ground, hovered over the house for a moment, flashing bright, and then flew off into the dark night.

The next step, then, was retrieval, and that was all up to Timmy. The elves got the reindeer suited up and ready to fly, and Timmy hopped in the sleigh, took the reigns and flew off after the shining light, following it south. It would lead him to the next Santa, and the next legend–all he’d have to do is convince him to take the position.

Marty paced the end of the runway. It was past dawn at this point–Santa should have returned by now. He was always so efficient! He picked up the pistol he’d dug out of his old projects. It was an old failure that never worked very well, but…desperation breeds ingenuity, and he’d cobbled together a working prototype–a love gun. He’d intended to make it capable of making any two people fall deeply in love or lust, but for now, all he’d managed to do is make the target fall in love with the shooter–which was enough for him. He’d imagined that his addictive cum would be enough to control Santa and his heart– but if this is what had to be done then so be it. He would have Santa’s heart, by force if necessary. He was done playing nice.

Timmy was a ways off, closer to the workshop, staring at Marty. He’d emerged from his workshop–alone. No sign of Claude. Marty had locked the door behind him, and even though Timmy was an excellent lockpick, he’d never been able to penetrate Marty’s complex locks, though he’d tried many times before. Still, this was getting out of hand, and he knew that the only person who could maybe talk some sense into Marty was him.

He hiked out to the runway where Marty was fiddling with his gun. Marty looked at him, “Stay out of this Timmy.”

“Marty…don’t…don’t you think this has gone a bit far?”

Marty didn’t say anything.

“Where’s…where’s Claude? What did you do to him?”

“I took care of it.”

“What did you do to him, Marty?”

“I said I took care of it.”

“ He didn’t need to be taken care of, Marty! What the fuck did you do?”

Marty spun around and stalked towards Timmy. “This has nothing to do with you! Fuck off, you fucking halfwit,” Marty spat on the ground, “You’ve been fucking lovesick for me for years–when do you get the hint? I don’t fucking love you Timmy, hell, at this point I don’t even like you. Now get the fuck away from me.”

Timmy’s jaw had dropped, his eyes tearing up. Marty looked away again, scanning the sky. Timmy almost spoke again, wanting to tell Marty what had happened to Santa as he’d ridden all over the world last night…but fuck it. Marty would just get a surprise, right? He’d see who the halfwit is, then. He turned around and stomped a ways off, but stayed close–he wanted to see the look on Marty’s face when the sleigh landed.

A few minutes later, rudolph’s red cockhead finally flickered through the clouds, and the sleigh burst out behind. Marty readied the gun, lining it up in his sights. He wasn’t going to give Santa a chance to dodge, or get a word in–he was going to shoot him in the air. The sleigh banked around, giving him a clean shot. He fired, and saw the figure in the sleigh glow bright pink for a moment–a direct hit! He tossed the gun away, and stepped to one side, the sleigh alighting on the snowy runway. Several reindeer trampled their way across the gun, but Marty didn’t care–it had done it’s job. The sleigh came to rest, Marty hurried towards it, and then stopped in his tracks, as the massively fat pig inside hefted himself out, snorted the air, turned it’s eyes on Marty, and beamed at him with desire.

“No…” Marty said, “No! Timmy? Timmy! What the fuck have you done to him!”

Santa was fat, but he was still larger and faster than Marty…and he had a bit of magic on his side as well. The little elf…he loved him so much, but he just wasn’t quite his type. Not yet, at least. Marty slowed down, sniffing the air, and then snorting it. Something smelled…no. He looked down, and saw that his hands were condensing into trotters, his body bulking up with muscle and fat, his cock…his fucking cock! It grew thick and started lengthening down, reaching his knees in moments, and that smell! He turned around, and saw Santa bent over, presenting his fat ass for Marty, and he was so horny. Grunting and snorting, he stroked his cock hard, forced Santa’s ass lower, and fucked him. His body was growing thicker with muscle, he’d never felt so strong, even as the edges of his clever mind started to dull and soften, lust overtaking him. His balls were filling with cum, bulging heavy and hanging lower, and moments later he was cumming, filling Santa’s ass with his new seed.

The haze of lust lifted, and Marty stumbled back. He was huge by elf standards now–in fact, we was less an elf and more a short, squat pig man, a freak of nature. Santa turned around and snorted closer, trying to kiss him, and Marty pushed him away. He had to fix this, he had to do something! He ran for the workshop, and Santa chased him, eager for another fuck, and Timmy just watched him run all the way there…and then saw the remains of the gun scattered across the runway. He hurried over and picked up all the bits he could find, a plan of his own forming in his mind.

Marty unlocked his workshop, and tried to keep Santa out, the rest of the elves watching the scene with a mixture of horror, surprise and sick humor. Eventually, Marty relented, and they both disappeared into his private workshop, the door locked behind them, and Timmy hurried to his own room, the bits of the gun heaped in his arms, and locked it behind him as well.

As for the rest of the elves–they had no Santa, and no head elf. So they began making toys for next year, because what else was there to do? Christmas would carry on, somehow. But the grew more uneasy, as over the next several months, Timmy, Claude, Marty and Santa never emerged, until one day…

To Be Continued

The sleigh landed on the roof of Phi Iota Gamma, and nearly slid off the steep roof when Santa leaned too far to one side. He weighed so much now–it was hard to judge balance, and his reindeer looked exhausted from hauling him around all night long. Still, it was their last stop, and he realized with glee that he still had that last bottle of cum he’d saved. He’d mostly forgotten about it, with all the piss and sweat he’d been drinking from each man he’d visited tonight–he didn’t usually have a such a thing for slobs, but tonight these fat, filthy men were just driving him crazy with horniness. He dug around for the bottle, found it, popped off the top and guzzled the whole thing down. Sucking the rest from his mustache, he felt a strange rumble in his guts, and a pang of worry. Wasn’t he not supposed to drink that? He seemed to remember trying to hide the bottle from himself earlier in the night, but wwhy would he do that? The worry already slipping away, he heaved himself out of the sleigh, his bag of gifts for the frat brothers hefted over his shoulder, and slipped down the chimney and landed in the fireplace.

He dusted the soot from his flabby body, and took a step into the living room, nearly toppling over when the floor sank in under his foot with a loud squish. He looked down, surprised, and saw that around his foot, the wooden floor had shifted into wet, soggy mud. Stinking mud. Farm mud, with a heavy pang of manure. It smelled…it smelled…kind of good, actually. He took another step, and felt his other boot sink in a bit further, to the ankle. He tried to take another step, but his boot was stuck in the mud. He yanked, pulling his socked foot from the shoe and it landed in the mud, sinking up to the calf, the sock dissolving in a matter of seconds, leaving him barefoot in the muck. He tried to take another step, but that foot was stuck as well, and he ended up toppling over, the hardwood changing to mud as he struck, sinking in two feet deep. He rolled over, trying to get up, but it was too slick and mucky and he ended up pushing himself deeper, grunting and snorting in pleasure. It did smell good, and it felt good too on his skin, as his leather gear dissolved away, leaving him naked in the filthy mud, rolling around, oinking and squealing. He felt himself lose control and start pissing as he rolled about–he flopped onto his back, feeling it shoot up and back onto his fat pad, dribbling into the mud around him, and he sighed. Still, he was hungry–he looked around for some food–he could smell some nearby. He hefted himself upright, but found it hard to balance on his feet, like he was standing on his toes. He tried to wipe off some of the mud with his hands, but his fingers had melded together into clumsy trotters, and he ended up leaving most of it, heaving his way through the muddy room to the kitchen, But in the reflective surface of the stainless steel fridge door, he saw a twisted, monstrous face and squealed in fright.

What had happened to him? His face…it had been a bit piggish before, but now he had a snout with two short tusks pushing their way out from his bottom jaw on either side, his eyes dull…what had he been thinking about again? Food…food, that was right. He opened up the fridge, and started eating everything in sight, and then moved onto the wider kitchen, when one of the frat brothers, awoken by the sound of snorting, came out of his room and looked down on the living room below from the balcony above.

“What…what the fuck? Hey…hey guys! What the fuck happened to the living room?”

There was a clatter of doors opening for a few moments, but Santa was too busy clearing out the cabinets to pay much attention.

“Is that mud?”

“It sure reeks like mud.”

“Who the fuck did it? Sigma Epsilon?”

“Who knows, but this is pretty elaborate for Sigma.”

“Do you guys hear snorting?”

“They didn’t bring a pig in too, did they?”

“I hear it too, it’s in the kitchen.”

Santa was feeling less hungry, but as the frat talked, he started to feel something else. He was horny…horny for a fuck. A lot of fucks.His ass was on fire. He stumbled out into the muddy living room, snorting, and the entire frat suddenly found themselves compelled to go down to the mud pit below. The massive pigman wearing a Santa hat with a huge white beard scared them, but as they waded out into the mud, their slippers and clothes dissolving, bodies bulking up with fat and muscle, hair growing across their bodies, faces contorting with snouts and tusks, they suddenly didn’t care. Two of the boars pushed Santa into the mud and a crowd of boars circled up, hefting their thick, pig cocks in their trotters and they all doused Santa in their piss. He drank as much as he could, but coated his fat body in the rest, before rolling over, presenting his ass to them, and the biggest one rammed his cock in deep in a single thrust, another boar coming around to Santa’s snout and fucking his face.

The rest of the boars, overcome with pig lust, rutted with each other in the mud. Santa, however, was still hungry. Once he finished off the pig fucking his face, he summoned a long trough full of sweets in front of his face and dug in. The boars kept fucking his ass the entire time he ate, a few of the boars joining him at the trough, fattening up as their fellow frat brother’s seeded their holes. Before long, the boars could easily be separated into two camps–muscular, musky alpha boars with huge cocks, fucking any hole in sight, and massively fat, small cocked bottom pigs, only happy with their faces stuffed with food and their asses stuffed with cocks–and Santa was the biggest of them all.

With time frozen, he had no idea how long the pig orgy lasted, but eventually the entire frat had collapsed into the mud, asleep. Santa wanted to stay. He liked it here, here he could have all the food and cock he needed, but something else, something almost forgotten, pulled him back to the chimney, back up onto the roof, back into the sleigh, where he curled up and fell asleep, the reindeer hauling the pig back to the North Pole.

“Well? Do you think they’ll fit? I think they might be a bit small, but I do love how rubber stretches over Santa’s thick arms when it’s a bit tight on him, don’t you agree, Claude?”

Claude didn’t say anything. Marty took the pair of shoulder length rubber gloves and slapped them across his face.

“Fucking answer me, bitch! Do you think they’ll fucking fit?”

“Please…Just let me go. I’ll just disappear, he’ll never know what happened to me, and you can have him, I don’t want him, I don’t want this…”

Claude looked to the left and right, where his arms had been, until Marty had separated them from his body with those same rings which had removed his cock, coated both of them in rubber, and reshaped them into the gloves Marty was now swinging from one of his hands. He was propped up against the wall, balanced carefully, since his legs were also gone, turned into the thigh high waders which were currently laying on the elf’s bench.

“Oh Claude, you see, I’d happily send you away, but the only problem is, like all of us here, you’re now immortal, so you can’t be out of the picture forever. Santa can be…tenacious when he wants something. Of course, once I mindfuck that fat fuck so he loves me like a fucking puppy I doubt he’ll give a shit about where you went, but I’d rather stash you in a place where I don’t have to worry about you causing trouble, like I did with Mrs. Claus–but no one knows about that but us, of course, and you won’t be giving away any secrets soon.”

Claude started sobbing, and Marty sighed, wiping his eyes, “Oh Claude, don’t cry! This is all your fault, don’t forget. You’re just getting what you deserve for stealing Santa from me. And since I’ve spent the last year frozen solid, stuffed up both your asses, well…I’m sure we can find something similar for you to do, though I think you’re going to be stuck for more than a year.”

“No, please don’t make me a dildo, please…”

“Oh Claude, I was thinking of something quite different. And Timmy did promise you an unlimited supply of elf cum after all. No, I’m thinking of something else entirely.” He set the gloves down on the table and then began rummaging around in some boxes, “Now where is it? I was going to work on it and perfect it this year, but the prototype should work just fine for what I have in mind…Ah ha!” He dug around in a large box and hauled out something that looked like a slick, two inch diameter rubber tube with a funnel at the end. He walked over, and Claude noticed something else–it was flopping about, but more than it should be. When Marty came up to him, it was still moving on it’s own, the tube end sweeping around until it pointed towards his face. “What do you think? Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“What the hell even is it?”

“It’s a rubber parasite, a very special one. I’ve imbued it with nanobots, and when it infests a host…well, maybe I should just leave it as a surprise, eh? Now open up Claude.”

Claude shut his mouth tight, and Marty laughed, brought the end of the tube next to his lips, and the rubber started forcing it’s way into his mouth, squeezing between his clenched teeth and forcing his mouth open, squirming around his mouth for a moment before snaking it’s way down his throat. He tried to cough and gag and shout, but the tube shut off his airway, and he started choking, squirming as the funnel planted itself in his mouth, and then, suddenly he could breathe, and he gasped for breath–though he couldn’t speak a word with his mouth gagged by the funnel.

“Looking good, now let’s see about the other end…” Marty said, and lifted Claude into the air. He could feel the rubber squirming around in his gut, but it felt like it was doing more than just working it’s way into his stomach. If anything, it felt like his guts were changing form entirely. Without warning, he suddenly felt like he needed to shit, and the tube slipped out of his ass, dangling half a foot from his hole, searching around for something. “Perfect! Now, let’s get you installed…” Marty kept him up in the air, and then pushed him against the wall at the level of his waist. The rubber tube hardened, the head condensing into a drill, and started pushing it’s way into the wall, finding the nearest pipe and joining up with it. When Marty stepped away, Claude stayed stuck to the wall, suspended on the pipe, squirming a bit and trying to figure out what was happening inside him.

Marty watched his struggle for a moment, and then he saw the next stage take hold. Claude struggled less, his eyes losing focus, the nanobots done changing his body, and now focusing on his mind. “Well Claude? Here you are. Your new home–my private, personal urinal and cumdump,” Marty said, whispering in his ear, “Those bots are going to go quite a number on that head of yours–a bit too much damage in my opinion. Still, I don’t think you’re going to miss those brain cells–a urinal only needs to be thirsty, right?”

Claude nodded dumbly. He was thirsty. Really thirsty, in fact. The thirst was pushing everything else to the side, it was all he could focus on.

“Yeah, that’s a good cumdump. I think you’re going to be very happy here. Let’s see…I think that funnel is just about done adhering to your mouth, so how about I give you your first load of piss, eh?”

Claude nodded, and watched Marty pull out his cock, aim it at his funnel mouth, and let loose a blast of piss. He didn’t have to swallow, it just slid right down his rubber throat and into his gut. To his surprise, he could taste everywhere on his funnel, and the piss was bitter and acrid but he couldn’t imagine drinking anything else. Well, other than sweet elf cum, of course. He was just a urinal after all, urinals didn’t need anything other than piss and cum. He felt the piss settle into his new gut, which was really just a massive holding tank where his parasite would feed off the piss, growing stronger, before releasing it out the tube in his ass and into the sewers below. He had to feed his parasite, he had to…it was the only thing that would keep him alive from now on. He owed the parasite his life. What would he do without it?

The parasite was happy with the piss, and it allowed Claude to orgasm, and he shook and shivered on the wall, pleasure ripping it’s way through his simple mind. Marty was stroking his elf cock now, saying words, but Claude was having a hard time understanding him–all he wanted was cum. Cum and piss, but cum now, it was spraying from Marty’s cock across his face and into his funnel, dribbling it’s way down into his gut, where it belonged.

Marty shook the last drops of cum from the tip of his cock, and looked at his happy urinal. He’d love to keep it flesh, but it would be too recognizable, so he got the bucket of liquid rubber and started spreading it in a thin layer across Claude’s body, just enough to turn his skin to rubber without rubberizing his whole body. He applied a bit more to the face, smoothing out the eyes and ears, removing the beard and hair, until it was just a generic head shape–utterly unrecognizable. Of course, Claude wouldn’t be able to see or hear anything through the rubber, but Marty didn’t think he’d mind for long. Taste would be far, far more important to him. He fed his urinal another load of piss, watching it shiver with pleasure, and then went back to work on his gift for Santa. With Claude out of the way, Santa would have to love him. But just to make sure, Marty wasn’t going to let him have a choice in the matter, anymore.

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.

*Smack*

“Come on Claude, I know you’re sleepy, but the night is still plenty young.”

*Smack*

Something smeared it’s way across his lips, something sticky sweet. Claude swept it up with his tongue, groaned, bucked his hips into the air, feeling his cock growing harder at the taste. “F–Fuck…” he said, “Where…”

He opened his eyes, and saw Timmy kneeling over him, naked, cock hanging down over his head, dribbling cum, sweet cum, he thrust his head up to take the drop in, but Timmy lifted it away from him. “Nuh uh, Claude, you’ve had plenty for now–I mean, look how taut that gut of yours is. Hell, you’ve already drained half the staff.”

The elves cheered around them, laughing. Claude tried to piece together what little he could remember. There was that whisky, and he’d had those shots with Timmy, and then he’d…he’d felt so strange. He could remember Timmy telling him that if you receive a gift from an elf, you must give one in return, and then that first blow job. Fuck, their cum tasted so sweet, so fucking…hungry, so damn hungry for cum. And horny! Fuck, he reached down to grab his cock, but his hand only felt air. Confused, he looked down and say that where his cock and balls should be, was simply nothing more than a patch of smooth skin.

“Looking for these?” Timmy said, and picked up Claude’s cock and balls from a table next to him, making him shiver. Even though they were disconnected from him, he could feel everything–but how was that even possible? At the base of his cock, he could see a solid metal cockring. Distantly, he could remember Timmy putting it on him in his drunken haze, and then an odd pressure…

Timmy was stroking the shaft now, and Claude was groaning. So horny, and yet…yet he couldn’t cum. It felt like he was right on the edge. Timmy stopped, and Claude begged him to keep going, keep stroking, anything to get him off.

“Well you see, Claude, there’s a problem. Elf cum…it isn’t just addictive, you see. For addicts like you and Santa, it becomes impossible for you to cum without a full belly of our seed. You could stroke and stroke and stroke this cock of yours to a bloody stump, and you’d just be even hornier than before, with no release in sight. Now, I can’t have you ruining your cock like that, so I’ve taken the liberty of keeping it safely out of your hands for now.”

Claude was panting now, and when Timmy laid it back down on the table, he tried to grab it, but his hands and ankles had been shackled together, causing him to simply fall on his face. “Oh Claude–if you want more cum, I’m afraid you’re going to have to give me a gift in return. But I’m very, very generous. If you go into Santa’s house and bring out Marty for me, then I can promise that you’ll have an unlimited supply of elf cum for the rest of your life–how does that sound?”

It sounded fantastic, and Claude immediately agreed. Timmy and a few other elves escorted him over to the house, and he led them down into the basement. Marty was kept in a special locked cabinet, but Santa had given Claude a key. He got out the rubberized dildo elf, and handed him to Timmy, who carried him back to the workshop, Claude following along behind, begging for cum. “Your gift is so thoughtful Claude,” Timmy said as he admired Marty, “Louie, do be kind and give Claude a load of cum? He looks so hungry.”

Claude was immediately on his knees in front of the elf, sucking his cock desperately, and Timmy set Marty on the floor of the dungeon, and began smearing something all over the rubber form. After a moment, the rubber began to bubble and slide off, revealing skin underneath–in a matter of moments, Marty was gasping for air, standing in a puddle of steaming black goo, and Timmy was so thrilled, he pulled his fellow elf into a hug, but Marty just slumped into him, exhausted. Louie came, and they all returned to the workshop, Claude on his knees, sucking load after load of cum, his cock leaking onto the table next to him, while Timmy and a handful of others helped nurse Marty back to health, and filled him in on what had happened in the last year.

One thing was for certain, Marty was furious. Timmy tried to calm him down, told him that by the end of the night, Santa would get what was coming to him, but Marty wasn’t angry at Santa…so much as Claude. The usurper, the mortal Santa had brought back with him, who had stolen Santa from him. It was then that Timmy realized that the elf he loved, the elf he had conspired to save all year long, was in love with someone else–Santa Claus. Marty got up, taking the other elves with him, and Timmy sat alone, his heart broken.

Marty hurried through the workshop, searching for something in particular, grabbed up a large bucket marked “Hazardous” and then headed over to where Marty was still sucking off the long line of elves in the middle of the workshop. Marty pushed the elf currently getting blown to the side, and then smacked Claude awake from his elfcum stupor. “Hello Claude!” Marty said, leering down at him, “I don’t believe that we ever had a chance to be properly introduced last year. My name is Marty–I’m the head elf around here, and I don’t think I’ve had a chance to give you a gift yet!”

Claude could see the anger and insanity in Marty’s eyes, and he shook his head. “I–I don’t think I need any more gifts, really.”

“Oh, but I insist!” Marty said, grabbed a bucket of some black goop and set it up on the workbench where Claude’s cock was still sitting. “And I know just what to give you.” He picked up Claude’s cock with one gloved hand, and plunged it into the bucket. The goop was cold on his cock, and Claude shivered. When Marty pulled it out a moment later, it was covered with the substance, and he noticed something else. Where moments before his cock was cold, now it was just numb. He could see the slop dripping away from his cock, leaving it black, shiny, and solid rubber. “What do you think? A dildo just for you. Still, I don’t think it’s quite big enough for a whore like you.” Marty started moulding the still hardening rubber, slopping more and more on, until Marty’s cock was nearly five inches thick, and close to fifteen inches long. “What do you think? Shall we give it a go?”

Before Claude could fight him off, Marty had him down on his hands and knees, ramming his old cock into his asshole, listening to his competition for Santa’s love beg for his cock back.

“Oh, don’t worry Claude–it’s all going to be just fine. Still, since I had to spend a whole year as a dildo, crammed in both of your asses, I feel like it’s only fair that you get something equally humiliating in return. But I have a feeling it’s going to be for a bit longer than a year–in fact, I don’t think you’ll ever be changing back.”

The elves surrounding Marty who had been shouting excitingly, had gone silent. Timmy, only observed from the catwalk around the workshop, as Marty grabbed Calude by the beard, hauled him up, the massive dildo still crammed in his ass, and dragged him off to his private workshop. The elves tried to go in after him, but he locked the door tight behind him. And then Timmy realized something else–chances are, if Marty was angry now, he was going to be even more furious when the sleigh returned with Santa. After all, Timmy had planned on taking Santa out of commission entirely, but if Marty was in love with him…

He might be the one screwed in the end.

Santa whisked himself back up another chimney, the sounds of the two fucking bears he’d just freed from their boring businessmen’s lives fading into the silent night, and he tromped back to his sleigh. It was a good distance to the next house on his list, and he was already getting thirsty. He grabbed one of the bottles of cum the elves had made for him, and was a bit disappointed that they’d only given him three. He’d promised Claude that he’d try to cut back, but it was just so damn sweet and tasty…not to mention the other problems it caused if he didn’t drink any for a while.

The lid was off, and he was chugging it back–the whole bottle gone in a matter of moments, and it was only afterwards, as he sucked some off his mustache, that he noticed an odd aftertaste. He inspected the bottle, a bit suspicious, but in the end he tossed it in the back and figured it was just a bit old or something. Cum was always better fresh from a cock after all. He flew off into the night, heading for the next town, but by the time he set down on the first roof, his gut was growling with hunger, and the cookies and milk left for him in the living room weren’t enough to satisfy. Two homes later, he was eating cookies, and then scavenging sweets from pantries, and then he reached a house where he simply couldn’t stop. The kitchen was huge, the fridge and pantry well stocked, and he began gorging himself, trying to find some self-control, but the hunger was intense and all-consuming.

It was only when he heard a gasp behind him that Santa whirled around, and found an older, chubby man staring at him from the entrance to the kitchen. “S–Santa? No, you’re not Santa, what the fuck?”

“Oh shut up, Aaron. Get over here and feed me.”

Aaron felt Santa’s magic work it’s way around him, and he shuffled towards him, his eyes drawn to the food covered gut in front of him, reaching out, kneading it. Santa groaned, and realized then how large he had grown during his binge. He’d been fat for centuries before Marty had changed him in the muscle Santa he’d been last year, but now he was even fatter than before, his muscles buried under a flabby apron of fat which Aaron was shaking with both hands.

“Oh, you fat fucking pig, we’re gonna make you fucking massive,” a cake materialized on the counter next to them, Aaron grabbed a handful and smashed it into Santa’s mouth and beard, the older man’s eyes rolling back in pleasure as he chewed.

They both lost track of time, and thanks to Santa’s powers, time outside the house didn’t move forward a single moment. Once Santa was finally full enough to think about something other than food, he had Aaron heft him up and bend him over the table–no small feat, considering the size of Santa’s new belly. Aaron groaned, kneaded Santa’s blubbery ass, and started fucking him–or trying to at least. Aaron couldn’t quite get his four inch cock into Santa’s hole surrounded by his new fat. Santa concentrated, and Aaron’s cockck growing larger and larger until Santa was satisfied with the ten inch cock ramming into his fat ass…but still he wanted food. A platter of cookies now, and he stuffed his face, feeling his cock pulse as he chewed. Somehow eating was turning him on even more than being fucked, but the two together was finally enough to make Santa cum, moaning through a cookie packed mouth.

“Yeah, you fuckin’ pig, fuck!” Aaron shouted, and he filled Santa’s hole to the brim, but with his cumshot, clarity returned to Santa’s mind, and he sent Aaron back to bed–a feeder for life. What in the world had just happened to him? He waddled into the bathroom to get a better look at himself, and he had to guess he weighed nearly five hundred pounds after his uncontrollable binging. The weight gain itself shouldn’t be a problem, considering he could change his size at will–but he found he also couldn’t will himself thinner…because he liked it. He didn’t really want to be thinner, did he?

He starred in the mirror, trying to figure out why he’d been so concerned, but ended up jacking off again for the fun of it. Of course, he couldn’t reach his cock, so he had to go find Aaron and make him suck him off while he ate few summoned cupcakes, and then he was back up the chimney, the sleigh creaking under his huge frame, and took off for the next house, two full bottles of elf cum still nestled into the seat beside him.