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Description
He shoved her roughly down on the bed, ripping all of her clothes off in one fluid movement. She squeaked involuntarily, unsure if she wanted to scream or not while she watched his eyes hungrily devours the sight of her exposed body. His insatiable look, combined with the full white beard and rosy cheeks, turned her on even though she knew it shouldn't. Looking farther down, his full biceps, smooth, defined chest, and six-pack left her trembling. Before the girl could decide how he made her feel, the man descended on top of her, pinning her hands to the bed.

He pressed his lips to hers, forcing her mouth open. She closed her eyes hard, not enjoying the feeling of his tongue slithering around her mouth and down the back of her throat as if he wanted to lick her uvula. She gagged, tears springing up under her eyelids. When he bit her lip her eyes flew open in time to watch him pull away, a trail of pink saliva connecting them. He grinned devilishly.

Shifting his grip so that he held both of her hands in one of his large ones, he began pawing at her breasts. She moaned in pain and pleasure as he squeezed one moment and caressed the next. Still kneading, he made his way back up her neck and pressed his lips to hers once more, gentler this time. It caused her lip to ache. Despite her initial reluctance, the girl found herself reciprocating the kiss slowly at first and then more enthusiastically. She arched her back so as to press her body into his.

The man's previous roughness returned and she couldn't help but accept it willingly. He mashed his face into hers, bloodying her gums with his teeth. He clenched her breast with a death grip, his short fingernails leaving imprints in the soft skin. She couldn't tell the different between pleasure and pain anymore.

Abruptly, the man straightened again, hands flying to the big black buckle of his plush red pants. Even if she wanted to escape his abuse, she wouldn't. He had turned her on too much at this point; she could do nothing but wait for him to continue, which he fully intended on doing. He pulled down his pants and then boxers, pausing a moment to let her take in the sight. Now she looked at him hungrily. Without warning, he spread her legs and penetrated her. Nothing he had previously done to her could prepare her for the combination of agony and ecstasy that assaulted her now. He thrust into her, again and again, oblivious to the sobs that escaped her and the tears that flowed freely down the sides of her face. Even if she could have, she still wouldn't have stopped him, even now.

The tension rose within them both and with one final plunge, they climaxed wildly together, resulting in a last groan from the girl. Taking a few moments to catch his breath, he withdrew from her. He pulled up his clothes so he wouldn't trip and exited to the bathroom, leaving the girl on the bed without a second glance. She stared emptily at the ceiling, waiting for her body to come down from the chaos. She ached in the very depth of her being.

Her vision faded in and out of focus as her mind drifted. One moment she focused on the pain of a specific body part, other times she traced the knots in the wood above her. Always the pain in her abdomen remained. Slowly, the experience faded in her memory, and she couldn't quite remember what exactly happened to her that caused her so much hurt. Three times in her reflections a man passed by her but he barely paid her any mind. He stirred the fading memory and she wanted to call out to him. She couldn't pull herself together in time before his presence disappeared, and after that even those brief meetings moved to the back of her mind.

--

"Thanks, Mrs.," the man said as his wife advanced toward him carrying a platter of red, juicy meat and ale.

"Don't you mean 'mistress' at this point? I hope you didn't break another one," the white haired woman muttered, eyes averted. She flinched when she felt his hand close around her wrist. He didn't hurt her, but she couldn't escape. She held her breath as he pulled her to him so she had nowhere else to look except in his face.

"Have I not broken you yet? You don't know what you're missing," he growled.
The woman scoffed. "Oh, I know the horrors you subject those poor girls to. They won't even remember their first time, let alone that it was with you, but they will feel incredible pain and violation when I am the one who has to send them back. I may be old but my ears work, and I hear everything," she snapped. He frowned and she knew she made a mistake. His other hand reached up, lightning fast, ripping her hair from its pins and knocking her glasses from her nose. For the first time in years she felt something other than contempt for her husband: fear. Surprised at first when he guided her face to his to steel a deep kiss, the woman wrenched herself away. Disgusted, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She backed away from him and out of the kitchen.

As she trudged through the snow to the barn where the reindeers waited patiently, the woman silently cursed her mother again for including her in the man's curse. She would endlessly be stuck, unsure if she loved or loathed him, forced to endure his torture, all the while helping him with the task he had to endlessly preform. She didn't become fat each winter or suffer with the knowledge the person she loved hated her, but she had no sympathy for her husband.

She checked to make sure the sack contained all the presents and one last time went over the reindeers' bridles. They leaned into her and snorted their condolences. They knew she only wanted to prevent her mother from coming to any harm by trying to curse the man who wished her daughter impurity. In the end, nothing went right for any of them. The woman glanced at Rudolph who stood at the front of the pack, head lowered and glaring at the path in front of her. She knew better than trying to approach her mother, who blamed her for everything: seducing Claus, interfering with the curse, and turning her into a reindeer that had to serve under the very man she tried cursing.

"I love you, Mamá," the woman whispered with a small voice. One of Rudolph's ears twitched quickly toward and then away from her. She received no other acknowledgment. At that time, her husband strode into the barn. Turning, the woman picked up and presented to her husband a plate of cookies and a glass of milk.

"I hate these fucking things," he told her, picking up a cookie and unhappily stuffing it in his mouth. She watched with the same interest she did every year as his physique changed with each cookie and swig of milk he consumed. Before she knew it, a very fat man stood before her.

"I know you do. What would happen if a child saw you all skinny?" she retorted. He grumbled. She watched with mild amusement as he ungracefully hefted himself into the sleigh.

"I hate this job," he mumbled, fidgeting in his seat.

"Maybe you should have thought of that before you tried violating the town sorceress's daughter," the woman retorted.

"Because you weren't waiting for me that night. I saw you ready to intercept that witch's spell," he snorted.

"I didn't want her to have to deal with the karmic repercussions! Now looks what's happened," she challenged. Both frowning, her husband snapped the reigns and with Rudolph leading the way, the sleigh started forward and soon rose into the air. Mrs. Claus didn't wait to watch, instead heading back to the house.

--

After some time - the girl couldn't say if seconds or hours passed - she sensed another person in the room and soon a motherly looking lady with beautiful white hair flowing down her back stood over her. For the first time since Santa discarded her, the girl willingly focused her eyes on the lady. She didn't seem real. "Are you an angel? Am I dead?" the girl croaked. Her head pounded and her vision swam. When the episode passed, a sad look overcame the woman's features. She shook her head.

"No, I'm sorry," Mrs. Claus said.

"Do you know what's happened to me? I hurt so much, and I can't remember why. Why can't I remember?" The girl started sobbing. The woman wanted to cry.

"Sh, sh, sh, it's okay. Everything with be okay. You don't have to worry about a thing. You're safe," she cooed. Through the girl's blurred eyes she sensed a shift in the scenery. "It's okay. Mommy's here, Mom is here," she said. Her voice changed, and suddenly, Mrs. Claus turned into the girl's mother.

"Honey, it's okay. Mommy's here. I've got you. You're okay," the mother said as Mrs. Claus watched from the doorway. The girl, now fully clothed, sat up with effort, and threw her arms around her mother, burying herself in the comfort.

"It's hurts so much, Mommy!" she cried. Her father rushed past Mrs. Claus, who stepped aside, without seeing her.

"What's wrong?" he asked. The girl squeaked and flinched away from her mother even while she clutched her mother closer to her. After seeing the hurt look on her father's face, Mrs. Claus turned away and found herself back at the North Pole.

"Every time they become afraid of men," she whispered, collapsing into a chair at the table. She hung her head.

--

At nearly five in the morning December 25th, a muffled crash in the living room woke the little boy sleeping on the couch. Immediately the giraffes of her dreams vanished and in front of his sleep-blurred eyes, a fat man in a red suit froze in place. "Santa?" he croaked, rubbing his eyes.

"Ho, ho, ho, awake a little early, aren't we… Daryl?" Santa whispered.
"It is you, Santa! Oh, I wanted to see you so badly a'cos all the means kids at school said you weren't real. But I knew you were, I told them you were real, and so I slept out here because I wanted to see you so badly because I wanted to prove to them that you are real, Santa," the kid rambled.

"That's real nice or you, Daryl," Santa told the kid, taking a step toward him. He held out a small, wrapped present for him. "This is for you. I have to finish visiting all the other good little boys and girls like you," he said, inching toward the chimney.
"Tha's okay; I understand, Santa. Because I saw you, and you're real." Daryl smiled brightly. Santa touched the side of his nose and appeared on the roof. He jumped into the sleigh as fast as his girth would allow and spurred the reindeer onward. Daryl ran to the window and waved Santa goodbye, his smile never fading. Long after he could no longer see the sleigh Daryl ran to his parent's room.

"I met Santa!" he exclaimed.

Description
He shoved her roughly down on the bed, ripping all of her clothes off in one fluid movement. She squeaked involuntarily, unsure if she wanted to scream or not while she watched his eyes hungrily devours the sight of her exposed body. His insatiable look, combined with the full white beard and rosy cheeks, turned her on even though she knew it shouldn't. Looking farther down, his full biceps, smooth, defined chest, and six-pack left her trembling. Before the girl could decide how he made her feel, the man descended on top of her, pinning her hands to the bed.

He pressed his lips to hers, forcing her mouth open. She closed her eyes hard, not enjoying the feeling of his tongue slithering around her mouth and down the back of her throat as if he wanted to lick her uvula. She gagged, tears springing up under her eyelids. When he bit her lip her eyes flew open in time to watch him pull away, a trail of pink saliva connecting them. He grinned devilishly.

Shifting his grip so that he held both of her hands in one of his large ones, he began pawing at her breasts. She moaned in pain and pleasure as he squeezed one moment and caressed the next. Still kneading, he made his way back up her neck and pressed his lips to hers once more, gentler this time. It caused her lip to ache. Despite her initial reluctance, the girl found herself reciprocating the kiss slowly at first and then more enthusiastically. She arched her back so as to press her body into his.

The man's previous roughness returned and she couldn't help but accept it willingly. He mashed his face into hers, bloodying her gums with his teeth. He clenched her breast with a death grip, his short fingernails leaving imprints in the soft skin. She couldn't tell the different between pleasure and pain anymore.

Abruptly, the man straightened again, hands flying to the big black buckle of his plush red pants. Even if she wanted to escape his abuse, she wouldn't. He had turned her on too much at this point; she could do nothing but wait for him to continue, which he fully intended on doing. He pulled down his pants and then boxers, pausing a moment to let her take in the sight. Now she looked at him hungrily. Without warning, he spread her legs and penetrated her. Nothing he had previously done to her could prepare her for the combination of agony and ecstasy that assaulted her now. He thrust into her, again and again, oblivious to the sobs that escaped her and the tears that flowed freely down the sides of her face. Even if she could have, she still wouldn't have stopped him, even now.

The tension rose within them both and with one final plunge, they climaxed wildly together, resulting in a last groan from the girl. Taking a few moments to catch his breath, he withdrew from her. He pulled up his clothes so he wouldn't trip and exited to the bathroom, leaving the girl on the bed without a second glance. She stared emptily at the ceiling, waiting for her body to come down from the chaos. She ached in the very depth of her being.

Her vision faded in and out of focus as her mind drifted. One moment she focused on the pain of a specific body part, other times she traced the knots in the wood above her. Always the pain in her abdomen remained. Slowly, the experience faded in her memory, and she couldn't quite remember what exactly happened to her that caused her so much hurt. Three times in her reflections a man passed by her but he barely paid her any mind. He stirred the fading memory and she wanted to call out to him. She couldn't pull herself together in time before his presence disappeared, and after that even those brief meetings moved to the back of her mind.

--

"Thanks, Mrs.," the man said as his wife advanced toward him carrying a platter of red, juicy meat and ale.

"Don't you mean 'mistress' at this point? I hope you didn't break another one," the white haired woman muttered, eyes averted. She flinched when she felt his hand close around her wrist. He didn't hurt her, but she couldn't escape. She held her breath as he pulled her to him so she had nowhere else to look except in his face.

"Have I not broken you yet? You don't know what you're missing," he growled.
The woman scoffed. "Oh, I know the horrors you subject those poor girls to. They won't even remember their first time, let alone that it was with you, but they will feel incredible pain and violation when I am the one who has to send them back. I may be old but my ears work, and I hear everything," she snapped. He frowned and she knew she made a mistake. His other hand reached up, lightning fast, ripping her hair from its pins and knocking her glasses from her nose. For the first time in years she felt something other than contempt for her husband: fear. Surprised at first when he guided her face to his to steel a deep kiss, the woman wrenched herself away. Disgusted, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She backed away from him and out of the kitchen.

As she trudged through the snow to the barn where the reindeers waited patiently, the woman silently cursed her mother again for including her in the man's curse. She would endlessly be stuck, unsure if she loved or loathed him, forced to endure his torture, all the while helping him with the task he had to endlessly preform. She didn't become fat each winter or suffer with the knowledge the person she loved hated her, but she had no sympathy for her husband.

She checked to make sure the sack contained all the presents and one last time went over the reindeers' bridles. They leaned into her and snorted their condolences. They knew she only wanted to prevent her mother from coming to any harm by trying to curse the man who wished her daughter impurity. In the end, nothing went right for any of them. The woman glanced at Rudolph who stood at the front of the pack, head lowered and glaring at the path in front of her. She knew better than trying to approach her mother, who blamed her for everything: seducing Claus, interfering with the curse, and turning her into a reindeer that had to serve under the very man she tried cursing.

"I love you, Mamá," the woman whispered with a small voice. One of Rudolph's ears twitched quickly toward and then away from her. She received no other acknowledgment. At that time, her husband strode into the barn. Turning, the woman picked up and presented to her husband a plate of cookies and a glass of milk.

"I hate these fucking things," he told her, picking up a cookie and unhappily stuffing it in his mouth. She watched with the same interest she did every year as his physique changed with each cookie and swig of milk he consumed. Before she knew it, a very fat man stood before her.

"I know you do. What would happen if a child saw you all skinny?" she retorted. He grumbled. She watched with mild amusement as he ungracefully hefted himself into the sleigh.

"I hate this job," he mumbled, fidgeting in his seat.

"Maybe you should have thought of that before you tried violating the town sorceress's daughter," the woman retorted.

"Because you weren't waiting for me that night. I saw you ready to intercept that witch's spell," he snorted.

"I didn't want her to have to deal with the karmic repercussions! Now looks what's happened," she challenged. Both frowning, her husband snapped the reigns and with Rudolph leading the way, the sleigh started forward and soon rose into the air. Mrs. Claus didn't wait to watch, instead heading back to the house.

--

After some time - the girl couldn't say if seconds or hours passed - she sensed another person in the room and soon a motherly looking lady with beautiful white hair flowing down her back stood over her. For the first time since Santa discarded her, the girl willingly focused her eyes on the lady. She didn't seem real. "Are you an angel? Am I dead?" the girl croaked. Her head pounded and her vision swam. When the episode passed, a sad look overcame the woman's features. She shook her head.

"No, I'm sorry," Mrs. Claus said.

"Do you know what's happened to me? I hurt so much, and I can't remember why. Why can't I remember?" The girl started sobbing. The woman wanted to cry.

"Sh, sh, sh, it's okay. Everything with be okay. You don't have to worry about a thing. You're safe," she cooed. Through the girl's blurred eyes she sensed a shift in the scenery. "It's okay. Mommy's here, Mom is here," she said. Her voice changed, and suddenly, Mrs. Claus turned into the girl's mother.

"Honey, it's okay. Mommy's here. I've got you. You're okay," the mother said as Mrs. Claus watched from the doorway. The girl, now fully clothed, sat up with effort, and threw her arms around her mother, burying herself in the comfort.

"It's hurts so much, Mommy!" she cried. Her father rushed past Mrs. Claus, who stepped aside, without seeing her.

"What's wrong?" he asked. The girl squeaked and flinched away from her mother even while she clutched her mother closer to her. After seeing the hurt look on her father's face, Mrs. Claus turned away and found herself back at the North Pole.

"Every time they become afraid of men," she whispered, collapsing into a chair at the table. She hung her head.

--

At nearly five in the morning December 25th, a muffled crash in the living room woke the little boy sleeping on the couch. Immediately the giraffes of her dreams vanished and in front of his sleep-blurred eyes, a fat man in a red suit froze in place. "Santa?" he croaked, rubbing his eyes.

"Ho, ho, ho, awake a little early, aren't we… Daryl?" Santa whispered.
"It is you, Santa! Oh, I wanted to see you so badly a'cos all the means kids at school said you weren't real. But I knew you were, I told them you were real, and so I slept out here because I wanted to see you so badly because I wanted to prove to them that you are real, Santa," the kid rambled.

"That's real nice or you, Daryl," Santa told the kid, taking a step toward him. He held out a small, wrapped present for him. "This is for you. I have to finish visiting all the other good little boys and girls like you," he said, inching toward the chimney.
"Tha's okay; I understand, Santa. Because I saw you, and you're real." Daryl smiled brightly. Santa touched the side of his nose and appeared on the roof. He jumped into the sleigh as fast as his girth would allow and spurred the reindeer onward. Daryl ran to the window and waved Santa goodbye, his smile never fading. Long after he could no longer see the sleigh Daryl ran to his parent's room.

"I met Santa!" he exclaimed.