The Third Day of Christmas

“Fuck yeah! You faggots are going down so fucking hard,” Vance shouted into the headset as he teabagged the virtual corpse he’d just shot on the screen. He’d lost track of time, then again, Vance was never really sure what time it was. Christmas break was a time for video games–he hadn’t had much time to play at college, and Christmas Eve or not, he was going to play until he couldn’t keep his eyes open.

“Goodness, doesn’t anybody sleep anymore?” a voice said behind him, and Vance looked over his shoulder, finding a very strangely dressed Santa Claus by the chimney in the living room. “Oh well, if you want to be up all night with your video games, I suppose you could at least spend your time playing something better…” He shot Vance’s console with a strange, sparkly light and disappeared back up the chimney, before Vance felt his headset start to squirm next to his ear, and begin to grow. In a matter of moments, it had become a full helmet, and while Vance tried to fight it off, wires and cords had snaked out of the console, entangling him, wiring their way into his very body, and then the screen on the inside of the helmet lit up, and Vance was staring at a title screen–something called, “A Night at the Bathhouse.”

The screen shifted almost immediately, telling him to wait a moment while it obtained his starting character, and then he was standing in some sort of locker room, completely naked, and the entire simulation felt so real, but he had to still be in his living room, right?

“Choose your class,” a booming voice said in the room.

“I’m not playing this fucking game! Let me out of here you freak,” he shouted.

“’Fucking freak’ class selected. Please wait.”

“No! no, that’s not what I meant–”

It was too late. Looking down at himself, he was already changing, tattoos covering his entire body, all of them having to do with filthy sexual acts, but by far the greatest change was to his cock and balls. He’d always had a relatively short cock, but that was changing rapidly, as it expanded and extended into a monstrous shaft over a foot long, permanently hard from the amount of silicone he’d implanted into it, his balls pumped to obsecene proportions as well.

Terrified, he watched the tattoos swarm up onto his face and head, his hair becoming a bright red mohawk, and he reached down and started stroking his new member, feeling the powerful sensation overwhelm his mind, sexual desire and need creeping in and consuming his mind until he was panting, jacking his cock has hard as he could with both hands, his muscles swelling to equally obscene proportions until he came buckets on the floor in front of him. Licking his lips, he stumbled out of the room to play the game, finding a bottom bitch in one of the first rooms, and fucking the daylights out of his ass, and he was awarded with his first achievement of the game, “First fuck,” and rewarded with a fat PA in the head of his cock. He grinned down at it, the bottom bitch groaning with satisfaction on the bench, and Vance thundered off. He had all night to play after all, and he was sure there would be many more achievements to gain by the morning, and he could already tell that the changes in the game were probably going to last even after the system was shut off, and that he would be a fucking freak for the rest of his life.

The Second Day of Christmas

“Hey…uh, dad?…Dad?” Billy said from the doorway, a small, delicately wrapped present under his arm as he stood in the doorway to his father’s office. “Dad?” he repeated again, not sure his father had heard him or not.

Without diverting his eyes from the email he was writing, Edward–Billy’s father–said, “What is it Billy? I have a slew of emails to write before I get to bed, and I have an early flight tomorrow.”

“I know, that’s why…well, you’re usually up and out so early, and it’s Christmas, and so I thought you might want to unwrap your present tonight.”

“We’re having Christmas when I get back on Friday–you know that. You can have Christmas with your mom tomorrow.”

“Yeah, but–”

“I’ll open it then Billy. Now get to bed–it’s late and you have school.”

“It’s winter break dad.”

“Well you still have studying to do, don’t you?” Edward said, growing a bit annoyed, “You aren’t going to graduate as valedictorian this spring if you don’t get an A in Japanese.”

With a frustrated sigh, Billy retreated and went to his room, and Edward kept rattling off emails, getting his team ready to be without their lead manager for the next few days while he traveled to Taiwan for a sales conference. Several hours later though, he was finished, and it was only ten–plenty of time to sleep, get up at three, and leave for the airport.

He shut down the computer and headed towards his bedroom, noticing that his son’s light was still on as he passed it. He paused for a moment, running his hand through his balding hair. Maybe he’d been too hard, but he’d already planned on having Christmas later in the week…who would have thought being a dad would have been so hard? Hell, who would have thought being a husband would have been even harder? Here he was, forty-six, a great career and no life to show for it. Still, he couldn’t stop now–he’d made his bed, so he might as well sleep in it. He trudged down the hallway, wishing he’d taken better care of his body along the way, too. He wasn’t exactly fat, but “pudgy” didn’t exactly help him meet women. He let himself into his bedroom, was surprised to find the lights were on…and that the entire room was different.

“What the fuck?” he said, staring around the room. Everything was different–but by far, the biggest change was that his bed had been replaced by a gigantic crib. The walls were all a soft baby blue, and the shelves of books and awards from his years of work had been replaced by stuffed animals and toys meant for toddlers. He stepped into the room in a bit of a daze, when he felt something strange, a warmth in his crotch, and looking down, he saw a dark stain spreading across the front of his suit pants and down one leg. He was pissing himself, right here in the middle of the room, and try as he might, he couldn’t stop the flow.

“Well, it looks like Eddie has already found his way to his new nursery, William,” a voice said behind him, and Edward spun around, finding two older gentlemen in the doorway. The first looked like some sort of sex-crazed Santa Claus, but the other–he looked to be in his sixties, with a full beard and large gut, wearing a very classy business suit, and he chuckled.

“Eddie, what have I told you about playing dress up in daddies’ suits?” the man said, walking to Edward with a smirk, but when he saw the stain on the crotch of the pants, his smile turned to a scowl, “Eddie, did you have an accident? What have I told you? Little men like you always need to keep their diapers on. Looks like someone needs a spanking…”

Before Edward could do anything about it, William had grabbed him and bent him over his leg with his pants down, smacking his ass hard enough that it made Edward cry, but after ten palms William stopped and pulled Eddie close to his chest, and he felt…he felt safe there, against his father’s chest, and he could feel his peepee starting to get hard. William felt it too, and he slid a finger into Eddie’s ass, feeling his son moan at the intrusion, and started kissing him. Santa, pleased with the new father son relationship, left them for the chimney, and it was a few hours later, well fucked and safely diapered, that William settled Eddie into his new crib, resolving to be a much better daddy than “Edward” had ever been to him.

The First Day of Christmas

It was Christmas Eve, the sun had already set early, and Claude was at the computer, looking at the invitation again. It wasn’t an invitation to him exactly–everyone on Growlr in a fifty mile radius had received the shout from The Bear’s Den downtown.

Come on down to The Bear’s Den for our Annual Christmas XXXtravaganza!

Half price well drinks, Sexy Santa costume contest, featuring DJ Cubootie rocking the dance floor!

He didn’t read any more–the party had started an hour ago, and he wasn’t going. Sure, he wanted to go, but why would he? At a little over 50, he wasn’t exactly ready to breakdown on the dance floor anymore, and with the diabetes meds he couldn’t hold his liquor at all, either. Sure, with his big gut and thick white beard he’d make a good Santa, but not a very sexy one in his mind. Still, he also didn’t want to be alone on Christmas again, in this cold empty house, no kids, no life, no work. What was the point of staying here? Then again, what was the point of going?

“Ho, ho ho! Now that looks like a party!” the deep voice said behind him, and Claude spun around, finding himself staring at Santa’s burly chest and round gut, barely constrained by his red leather harness. He dusted a bit of soot off his pec and winked at Claude, “Wish I could go, but you know how it is this time of year! Too many toys to deliver, too many men to please…” he added, leaning in closer to Claude. He smelled of cum, sweat, smoke, and gingerbread, and somehow all of that rendered Claude’s cock hard as a rock.

“S-S-Santa?” Claude managed to squeak out, “What…what happened to your…suit?”

“Oh Claude, it’s a brand new look!” Santa said, “and you know Claude, you’ve been far too good this year–isn’t it time you were a little bit naughty? Now, how about we get you to that party?”

Before Claude could react, Santa had slung his rubber sack off his shoulder and threw it over Claude, trapping him inside and hauling him away, Claude fighting against the constricting rubber as he felt the things inside the sack come alive and cluster around him, ripping apart his clothes in the process. He was screaming as Santa hauled him up through the chimney, flung him in the back of the sleigh, and took off, his nine beasty reindeer-men hauling the sleigh across the city, before sliding to a rest on the roof of the Bear’s Den.

Claude was still squirming and screaming inside the rubber bag, as Santa hauled him out of the sleigh and dropped down into the alley beside the bar, opened up the bag and let Claude come tumbling out. Gone were his pajamas and ratty T-shirt–he was wearing a red leather vest with white fur trim, red leather chaps, and heavy boots. His skin stung all across his body, and he saw that something had tattooed him all up and down his arms with candy cane striped cocks. His hair had been shorn off and his beard trimmed, and he looked down at himself, and all he could think about was how sexy he felt.

Santa let out a growl, sliding a gloved hand between Claude’s chubby ass cheeks, feeling the fat man squirm, pushing his butt towards Santa’s cock, suddenly unable to control the desires and fantasies which had been welling up in him for as long as he could remember. “You want Santa’s cock?”

“Oh fuck yeah, fuck me Santa…” Claude moaned, and Nicholas was more than happy to slide his nine inch cook deep into Claude’s hungry hole. Santa came rather quickly–he had many other visits to make as well, after all, and then fumbled around in his bag, pulling out a candy cane striped dildo, and shoved it into Claude’s well worked hole, the curved end sticking out for everyone to see.

“Alright Claude, get in there and have some fun,” Santa said.

“Fuck yeah, I can’t fuckin’ wait,” Claude moaned, working the candy cane as he walked up to the bouncer of the bar, giving him a deep kiss in lieu of ID. Santa just smirked and leapt back up onto the roof, taking off into the evening, off to his next stop.

“Fuck Santa, you’re such a slut,” Marty said, watching his boss drain two elven cocks at once, his mouth big enough for both of their modestish members to fit in together in he opened real wide. The elves were both fucking wildly, close to the edge, and they came nearly together, Santa drinking down as much as he could, but one cock popped out, spraying cum across his already sticky, white beard, which he licked up hungrily.

“Hey, can I fuckin’ help it that your elf cum tastes so fuckin’ delicious?” Santa said, following it up with his a boisterous “Ho, ho, ho!”

Saint Nick had undergone a rather severe change of heart, for those two weeks he was hooked up to those tanks, pumped full of cum and Marty’s magic whisky, the elf visiting him every day, implanting new desires, filthy perversions, preparing him for a whole new kind of Christmas. It was already quickly turning to fall, the weather growing colder as the nights deepened, but Santa had spent much of it working out, bulking up to a sizable muscle bear, though he never did lose his gut entirely–it was usually brimming with too much elf cum to not bulge out obscenely in front of him, as he wandered the workshop, inspecting–and testing–the toys, whipping and punishing the elves that slacked off, sucking and fucking as much elf cock as he could find, perpetually starved for their cum, after his prolonged exposure.

The elves were still working on his final look for his Christmas ride, but Santa was never wearing anything other than leather or rubber these days. He was feeling sexy at the moment, wearing leather chaps and boots, sleigh bells hanging and jingling from his newly pierced nipples, cum drooling off the PA in the head of his cock, shrouded by his thick foreskin. While he still smoked pipes on occasion, he’d branched out, today opting for thick, foul smelling cigars, and he pushed a plume into Marty’s face, watching the head elf scowl a bit. “What did you want to show me anyway, Marty? And do you want to show me before or after I drain a few loads from those balls of yours?” Santa asked.

“Heh, after I think–you might want to see what I have for you down in the stables first,” Marty said.

His curiosity piqued, Santa followed the burly elf out of the workshop and across the snowy ground to the large stables. The elf flung open the doors, and Santa looked at the nine young men bound up on the straw in the stable. “Wait…what did you do with the reindeer?”

“Oh, nothing you need to worry about–I just thought our new Santa could use some new steeds to pull him around in the night, what do you think? I found nine of the hottest, sluttiest guys just for you. Now, don’t you think they could use some Christmas magic?”

Marty pulled out a small pouch, opened the drawstring and dusted the first man he came to with the powder, and they watched the young man start to writhe and squirm on the ground, his body expanding with thick muscle which was quickly coated with a fine dusting of brown hair. At the same time, two bony antlers were growing out of the man’s temples as he snorted and grunted, exploding out of his clothing, his cock angry and red. Curious, Santa walked up and ran his hand along the shaft, feeling the cock pulse and lengthen in his hand, the head growing redder until it began to glow a deep, throbbing red in the dark stable.

“Now that’s what I’d like guiding me in the foggy nights,” Santa said, stroking his new reindeer slut, getting his hand coated with Rudolf’s cum and licking it off his palm.

Marty tossed Santa the sack of powder, “Have at it Sir Claus, if you’re still thirsty afterwards, you know where to find me.”

Santa, however, was happy fucking with his new reindeer for the next few days, but now the anticipation was killing him–at last, it was Christmas Eve, his reindeer were hitched to his sleigh, his red leather harness lined with white fur, heavy brown leather biker boots, red latex chaps which stopped at his knees revealing his half hard cock. The only thing that hadn’t changed was his usual hat. In the back of the sleigh were huge, black rubber bags, stuffed full of naughty toys for naughty boys and men, all over the world. With one last, deep kiss to Marty, Santa off into the sky, the beginning of his long, wild ride.

And he had so many adventures that night, I suppose I’ll have to spend the twelve days of Christmas telling you all about them.

It was April outside, but for Saint Nicholas, the days and nights had all blended together into one long jack off session, one long night, his arm aching, magazine pages stuck together with his cum, calling for another bottle of whisky from his elves, Marty and Timmy never batting an eye at his state, Santa too busy engrossed in his very naughty porn to even think about preparing for Christmas at this time of year. He was months behind–if the elves didn’t start up the toy production soon, they would never be ready in time, but then again, Marty had taken it upon himself to start getting the workshop up and running. Dildos, collars, harnesses, poppers, pipes, cigars, slings–everything for the naughty men of the world. Marty was tired of making toys–Marty wanted to fuck–and with his magic whisky, it seemed like Christmas was his for the taking.

That is, until he’d forgotten to deliver his whisky to Nicholas for a day, and a very hung over fat man, his body crusted with cum, stumbled out of his study, wondering what had come over him. No one was in the house, but the workshop lights were on–he threw on his coat and crossed the compound, entering the workshop, where he found his elves, leathered and rubbered up, crafting all of the sex toys any man could want, and he nearly screamed. He looked up and saw Marty on the upper level overseeing the workers, and glared at him, the elf’s face growing pale as he fled deeper into the factory.

“Marty? Marty!” Santa called, hurrying up the stairs and chasing after him, “What in the hell have you done!” He chased him down a hallway and into a dark room, where something slammed into the back of his head, and Santa crumpled to the floor, out like a light.

When he woke up half an hour later, the elves had been busy. He was in a small room in the bowels of the workshop, handcuffed, his hands pulled up high, and his usual red suit was gone–replaced by a red rubber singlet and a white leather harness, his cock exposed and rigid, connected to two tubes–one shoved up his ass, and the second down his throat.

“Guess I’m just going to have to keep you around here from now on, eh Santa?” Marty said, dressed in leather chaps and harness, Timmy next to him, collared and leashed with a gimp mask over his face.

Santa tried to speak, but couldn’t get anything out, especially after the thick, creamy substance started emptying from the tanks next to him into his guts and bowels. Some of it was the same whisky Marty had been feeding him for months now, but the cream was something else…it was…cum. He could read it on the side of the tanks, and he shuddered.

“Don’t worry Santa, we’ll have you addicted to all of our cum in a few days–then I’m sure you won’t be objecting to my new Christmas plans. In fact, by December, I’m sure you’ll be as excited as I am about all the toys you’ll be delivering to naughty boys around the world.”

Marty laughed and left the room, Santa struggling against the cuffs, the whisky already working against his mind. He had to do something–he had to try and save Christmas from Marty, that crazy, demented…sexy elf was going to ruin everything. Fuck, when Santa got his hands on him he’d…he’d fucking suck that cock of his, drain his elf balls of every drop of cum he could find…yeah…Marty had better watch his back–and that was his last thought before he fell back into his haze, gut bloated with cum, already excited for next Christmas to come around.

It was the day after Christmas, and Santa was exhausted. He’d already been up for close to seventy-two hours, and he’d come home to discover that Mrs. Claus had packed up her stuff and moved to Miami, where she was probably fucking some beach bunny’s brains out right this very moment, and he was stuck in this perpetual snowy night. She’d been acting strange over the last few months though–and just up and leaving on Christmas? He’d have to fly down there and try talking some sense into her. He poured himself a (sixth? seventh?) tumbler of whisky and knocked it back, rubbing his cock through his jockstrap.

He was horny, of all things to be, and he rummaged around for his secret stash of Maxim, but in it’s place was something else. A stack of magazines with names like “Leather Elf”, “Sexy Santas”, and “Nicely Naughty Men.”

“What the fuck is all this?” he grumbled? Flipping through the pages of a “Leather Elf,” looking at the muscular midgets posing their muscled, chubby and lithe bodies, some of them tied down, some of them hooded, some of them with the biggest fucking cocks…dribbling cum.

He grabbed his cock, checking to make sure he was as hard as he’d thought he was. What the hell? He’d never been turned on by this sort of stuff before, but one or two naughty wanks wouldn’t hurt. Besides, no one would ever know…right? Just to be sure, he walked over and locked the door to his study before jacking off to the magazine’s pictures, drinking more and more whisky as he came over and over again, moaning too loud to hear the elfin snickers from the keyhole.

“He’s actually fuckin’ reading it Marty! What was in that whisky?”

“The same shit that sent that prudish ‘Miss. Claus’ down to Miami for some thick cuban cock,” the other one said around a cigar, reaching down and fingering his fellow elf’s asshole, feeling him shiver.

“Let’s give him a month or two to get adjusted though, before we move onto the next step. Still, I have a feeling 2013 is going to have a very naughty Santa visiting everyone’s homes,” he said with a chuckle.