Date: Mon, 06 Dec 2021 23:30:44 +0000 From: Jessie Lawson Subject: Saint Nick - Part 1 Part 1 A work of fiction by Jesse Lawson Please consider donating to Nifty. If you have any comments or questions about this story, you may reach out to jessuplawson@protonmail.com with the story title as the subject line. Emails with attachments will be auto-deleted. As midnight approached, he lay quietly in his bed, unable to sleep. He had listened intently for hours. Carefully judging each creak and swoosh. What was that bump of the roof? Was that just the wind and the trees? He'd heard his mom and dad come home after the sitter had put him to bed. They were loud and stumbly and merry. But they'd passed out as soon as the sitter was paid and sent on her wat. It had been mostly quiet since. The snow on the ground muffled most of the sounds except when folks veered off the shoveled paths and the snow sang and groaned under their footsteps. This sound was increasingly infrequent as the hour grew late. And as his eyes were closing, he heard that sing-song crack and squish of the snow and peeked out the window. There he was! Santa! All in red velvet and white fur. A giant, jolly man. But walking down the sidewalk with a pack on his back and not in a sleigh. No reindeer in sight. He was big, but not fat. And his beard was bright red and not white. Not an old man, but the same age as the boy's dad. The boy pressed his face to the window, staring intently and fogging up the cold glass. As if he knew he was being watched, Santa turned abruptly, almost glaring back at the boy. He winked, wiggled his nose, and pressed his gloved finger to his lips. "Shhh," he motioned. Unable to contain himself, the boy crept quietly from his room and to the den, assuming Santa must have come and gone while the boy rested his eyes. He'd heard it could all happen in a blink. But no new toys were under the tree. And no bites were missing from the cookies. Was he in trouble for having seen Santa? Was he on the naughty list? He didn't see any sign of coal either. Suddenly from behind him came a deep, gentle voice. "Which list do you think you're on, little Daniel?" Daniel turned, and his jaw dropped. Magically, Santa stood by the tree, his sack of goodies resting on the floor by his booted feet which gleamed bright as if he hadn't been slogging through snow all night. "I've been good all year. Just like every year!" Daniel was confident. He locked his eyes on Santa's sack, eager for what toys and treats he'd earned. "Well you're very, very right. You have been a perfect young man," Santa said, placing his fists on his hips and smiling brightly at the boy. "But..." Santa's expression grew grave as he stepped slowly toward Daniel. "You aren't supposed to be out of bed this late, especially on Christmas eve." Daniel looked at his feet, ashamed. "It's no good to be bad at this late hour, when Christmas is so close upon us." Daniel's heart raced. He became incredulous, almost defiant. "But I've been good all year! I have! You can't put me on the naughty list now!" "I can if you've been naughty. In fact, I should," Santa said solemnly. "You don't even look like Santa! You aren't old, and you're not fat! You can't put me on the naughty list! You can't." "Shh, shh, Daniel. There's no need to get upset. You're right. Santa is an old, fat, jolly man, and I am not Santa. I am Saint Nick. Do you know about me?" "That's just another name for Santa." "Not quite. I'm Santa's son, and one day I'll be Santa. I help Santa. It's a big job." "So do you control the nice list and the naughty list? Can you put me on the nice list?" "I can if you're nice," Nick said, pulling a scroll from his coat and letting it unroll, bouncing on the floor. "Let's see. Daniel. Age nine and one half. Good son and great friend. Looks like you're already here. But, according to the rules, you must do one extra nice thing to make up for being awake on Christmas eve." "I can! I will!" "Since it's Christmas eve, you'll have to do it now." "Yes, sir! I can. I will! Here's some cookies and milk! They're very good." "Oh, but you did that before bed. That can't count twice," Nick said, approaching Daniel. "What then?" Saint Nick grinned happily at Daniel, stepping so close to the boy that he had to look straight up at him. His shiny black boots almost touched the boy's socked feet. Saint Nick reach around the boy's head which fell just at his belly button and hugged him. "You can give Saint Nick a nice Christmas hug," Nick said, still holding Daniel, who melted in his strong, big arms. Daniel reached around Nick, holding his waist tightly, his arms stretching but not getting all the way around Nick. "You have to go all the way around for it to count, Daniel." Daniel struggled and wiggled, willing his hands to touch each other behind Saint Nick, whose magical cock grew under his velvet pants with the young fellow squirming at his waist. "You're almost there," Nick encouraged. "Almoooost." But Daniel couldn't and let his hands fall defeated to his sides. "Maybe there's another part of me you can get all the way around." "Like your leg?" Daniel asked. "Kind of like my leg, yes," Nick said encouragingly, fishing his large magic cock from his red pants. It flopped over the waist of the pants, already fully erect and throbbing. Veins wrapped around it like the stripes on a candy cane. "Try hugging my peppermint stick with your hand and your mouth," Nick said to Daniel, whose snowflake pajamas sported a little tent. Daniel obeyed, not quite sure how he'd manage to hug the whole stick. Short enough to not need to kneel, Daniel parted his lips and began to lick and swallow Nick's bright red cockhead. It did taste like peppermint. And chocolate. And sugar plums. Daniel's mouth watered as he lapped at Nick's engorged Yule log. Nick rubbed the boy's hair, and he wiggled his nose and gave a wink and watched as the boy's face shone and sparkled as he gobbled even more peppermint stick. Down and down he went on Saint Nick's south pole like a pro, not a novice. Daniel felt Nick's cock slide deep in his young throat. He felt suddenly like he would choke or be sick, but just ask suddenly, the feeling subsided, replaced with a feeling of jolly hunger. He looked up at Saint Nick, smiling widely as Nick pumped his thick, veiny rod in the boy's throat. Nick rocked his strong hips back and forth, sliding his cock down the boy's throat without any resistance -- a Christmas miracle. Nick looked down over his muscular arms and chest at the little boy enjoying his Christmas treat. He tugged at the boy's ears, pulling him gently on and off his big playful tool. Nick felt joy rising in the two treat sacks dangling from his peppermint flavored cock and knew that soon the boy would earn a creamy treat. "You want Saint Nick's snowy surprise?" Nick asked Daniel, whose slobbery young mouth contorted into a smile as he nodded. Nick held the boy's head tightly as he thrust into his small tight throat. The boy's eyes watered and glowed as Nick unloaded rope after rope of tasty marshmallow fluff down Daniel's throat and watched with glee as drops leaked from the corners of his mouth. Nick pulled his enormous cock from the small boy's throat and bent to pick up the list which lay on the ground. "It looks like you've done it," he said to Daniel as he turned the list around to show the boy's name glowing brightly on the nice list. Daniel smiled and swallowed his mouthful of cream. He rubbed at his boy cock through his pajamas, whose snowflakes were now wet and sticky. Saint Nick knelt by his big sack and opened its ropes. "Now," he said to Daniel, "pull out your toys." Daniel smiled as he pulled toy after toy from the sack. Everything he'd asked for and more. "And finally," Nick said, "a toy and a tool." Nick stood up and reached into his bag and pulled a small smooth candy cane from the sack. "This," he said, "is a special peppermint stick. It's for your mouth. But it's also for other things." "What do you mean?" Daniel asked, taking the small candy cane from Saint Nick and tasting it. "It's magic. It'll show you how to use it in time. Now, I have other toys to deliver and other joys to make. Be a good boy, and I'll see you next year!" As he finished his sentence, his boots began to glow, and the room grew a slight chill. And in a puff of snow, Saint Nick vanished, reappearing outside the den window with his sack on his shoulder. With a skip in his step, he thudded down the steps and on to the rest of his night's work.