December 25th, 1995
6:30am
by a jolly old elf
It was very quiet, so quiet that one could hear the snow crystals
chime as the fell to join the others in the drifts. Light twinkled outlining
the windows and doors of each house, as Christmas trees blinked in sections
leaving momentary shadows on the walls. A thud and slide was heard on the
roof top followed by footfalls. When they stopped a slight grunt was heard
from the mantle of the old fire place. With a swish the jolly old icon of
Christmas was emerging from the hearth and just as he turned to look at the
beautiful Christmas tree, he noticed a plate of chocolate chip cookies piled
high and a huge tankard of milk. Being his last house for the year he felt a
bit stuffed, his suit was feeling tight after the last few million cookies
and pints of milk. Although the cookies looked like they were just taken from
the oven. He picked one up and found it soft and warm. He finished it in two
bites and washed it down with the sweet milk. Just as he was about to take
another one he suddenly felt dizzy. He sat down on the couch to try to get
his bearings and soon blacked out.
When he awoke Santa found himself In strange surroundings. He
started to panic, but remembered that at least he had finished all the rest
of his route before he passed out. He looked around the very comfortable room
and soon came to the realization that his arms and legs were held to the
loveseat he sat in by padded restraints. He started to struggle when he heard
footsteps, so he quickly played possum, closing his eyes, he laid back limp,
listening carefully.
The footsteps approached and he strained to listen, they were loud
footfalls, apparently made by someone of large size, but he never got a look
because from behind he hadn't heard someone else creep up and pull a blind-
fold over his eyes. "Who are you? What do you want?", he shouted. There was
no response, but he smelled something wonderful. It smelled like home baked
cookies, and also vanilla custard. His mouth watered despite his predicament.
He could hear breathing in from of him, by it's depth he guessed it was the
large person with the loud footsteps. He felt something press past his
flowing mustache and against his red-as-a-bow-like lips. He didn't strain and
let the object enter his mouth. As he did he tasted a cookie like none he
tasted before, and he had tasted more than his share. As he chewed the crumbs
danced upon his tongue, a beautiful dance of flavor. His tongue swirled about
as the chocolate chips exploded sending his taste buds soaring. And just as
the taste passed into his gullet, another cooking was thrust in, and another,
and another, and another still. He had lost count around thirty, but soon
after found another sensation enter his mouth, the warm vanilla custard. He
swallowed spoonful after spoonful, leaning his head forward to get to it
faster. In time the spoonfuls stopped and Santa felt the seams of his suit
straining to hold him and his feast of plenty. Then a sort of tube was pushed
between his lips and the smell of nutmeg filled his nostrils. He had
completely forgotten he was being held prisoner by the time the taste of warm
cream, honey, and nutmeg filled his mouth. He gently sucked on the tube
filling any possible gaps in his 'round, yet not so little, belly'. He had
lost all track of time as he slurped his way to sleep. As cream spilled out
over his beard and down his suit which had since burst at the seams, the last
thing he felt was a gentle hand remove the tube and blot his beard dry.
When he awoke he found himself dressed in a new red suit. This one
was exceptionally roomy despite his increased girth, in fact it was huge by
even his standards. "Hello?", he said halfheartedly. Within a blink of an
eye, the blindfold had returned as did the wonderful aroma of food. "I
thank you for sharing your feast with me, but...", he was stopped by a
finger against his lips. He noted how the finger felt a bit, well chubby.
All other thought disappeared as the taste of warm, buttered, corn muffins
arrived, followed by hunks of moist turkey, buttery, whipped potatoes,
mouth fillingly huge, candied sweet potatoes, thick buttered slices of sweet
nut bread, big fork fulls of stuffing, and gulps of cool sweet milk occasionally
to wash it all down. Through the enticing culinary rotation over and over and
over and...over. Just as he felt a bit bloated, the food stopped as his coat
was unbuttoned and large hands kneaded and massaged his 'ever so rounder
belly'. He relaxed and wished he hadn't left his pipe in the sleigh. It
didn't matter really, because even had he the chance to hold it, his
reindeer would have gone for help by now. He wondered where the 'help' could
be. It could be worse, he thought. This wasn't exactly torture. The massage
stopped as his coat was rebuttoned and he smelled cookies again. One passed
his lips. Butter cookies, almost oozing with butter. He felt the soft fresh
baked dough press between his molars and he, in a small way, wished help
wasn't coming. After several dozen he again felt the tube press his lips. He
started to fight it, but soon gave in as the nutmeg smell filled the air.
He tried to stay awake drinking what seemed like gallons of the creamy bliss
before falling into a warm euphoric sleep.
This time when he awoke he wasn't in the warm comfortable loveseat
and his arms were no longer held by the padded restraints. It was cold and
blustery, and as he opened his eyes he saw that he was....home. He sat upon
the seat of his sleigh his wide girth taking up most of the seat and his
now 'round, nay, rotund overhanging belly' hid his feet from view as his
shiny belt buckle rested on the front edge of the sleigh. The reindeer
seemed fine as though nothing had happened. Three elves came out and without
a word unhitched the team and departed to their work. If it wasn't for his
increased girth Santa would have thought it a dream. He stood up with some
difficulty and dismounted the sleigh making deep impressions in the snow.
he waddled his newly increased form to the house and opened the door.
Mrs. Claus stood up and exclaimed, "What took so long, dear? You're nearly
two days late. I was worried!" He negotiated the door, having to pivot
slightly sideways to fit his wider hips through, even then it was a squeeze.
"I'm not sure what happened, dear?", he said. She looked puzzled. "Don't you
notice anything different?", he bellowed. She approached him and went to hug
him. Her hands barely made it halfway around due to his mass added to her own
build, now quite small in comparison. He started to tell the tale as she held
him, but was cut short as her finger pressed his lips. He paused as she began
to rub his belly. A smile ran across his lips. "I'm sorry dear, what did you
say?", she looked up at him slyly. His smile broadened. "Is that chocolate
chips I smell??"
The End