Santa Claus is Coming to Town

by Josef Howard

(c) 2012

There are many legends of Santa Claus and there is at least a tiny bit of truth in all of them, but, as Jesse discovered one fateful Christmas Eve in the not so distant past, none of them tell the true story of the red clad man from the North Pole.

Our Jesse was a kind young man, the sort of lad that gave money to every panhandler who asked, opened doors for strangers and gave every stray animal a permanent home.

Yet on this Christmas Eve, Jesse found himself all alone in the mostly empty home of his childhood. Jesse had been an only child and though he was barely in his twenties, he suddenly found himself an orphan, without even aunts, uncles or cousins. A week ago – the week before Christmas – both his mother and father died unexpectedly in a car accident. In the last week Jesse had buried both of his parents and begun the slow work of sifting through their belongings. By Christmas Eve most of the furniture and clothing had already been given to charity, so Jesse lay on a sofa in an otherwise empty living room in front of a small fire with no television, no telephone, no radio, not even a book to occupy him, and fell deeply asleep not long after dusk.

When Jesse felt lips on his mouth, his eyes struggled to open. In the dim light of the dwindling fire Jesse saw the face of a white bearded man who knelt beside the couch. A strong hand brushed his forehead. A deep, soothing baritone spoke to him.

“Such a handsome young lad you are, Jesse. More handsome than I even imagined.”

“Who are you? A friend of my parents? Did I leave the door unlocked?”

The man stood. He wore a bright red flannel outfit with white fur trim, but his jacket was open in front, revealing the most outrageously muscular chest propped high above twin columns of abdominal muscle that undulated as he laughed.

“Who do you think I am, Jesse? Who else wears a suit like this?”

“Well, you sure as Hell don’t look a thing like Santa Claus!”

“Now how would you know that, Jesse? Have you ever met the real Santa Claus before?”

The argument was difficult to refute, and so Jesse was inclined to simply stare at the white-haired stud with the neatly trimmed beard who filled out his red flannel suit like a professional bodybuilder with the flesh of a porn star pushing out the fabric between his thick and deeply striated thighs. 

“All the Santa pictures show you as…well…rotund,” Jesse said, even as his own groin flesh began to swell in appreciation of this unconventional Santa’s studly form.

“So much gets lost between tellings. I suppose it could be said that I am large, am I not? I suppose to most people that means fat. But Santa isn’t here just to disabuse you of your false assumptions about his appearance. Santa came to make your holiday a little brighter.”

Santa took off his hat, loosening his long, curly locks, and pulled off his jacket, unveiling the largest pair of perfectly formed guns Jesse had ever seen in real life or on the Internet, and turned to dig through a large red cloth bag, trimmed with the same white fur that decorated his suit. “Bobby? No. Jack? No. Kurt? It’s always the one on the very bottom. Why can’t I train my elves to pack the bag in delivery order? Jesse! Here it is.”

Santa stood and held out a beautifully wrapped box. “For Jesse, a lad near the top of my Naughty and Nice list this year,” Santa exclaimed.

“Naughty AND nice?” Jesse said, “I thought those were two separate lists.”

“Another misconception I’m afraid. It’s not enough to be just one or the other if you want a visit from Santa.” Santa’s eyebrows bounced and he smiled broadly, exposing teeth as white as his beard, framed by rosy the rosy red lips that had awakened Jesse from his midwinter’s nap. “And from what I have heard, this year Jesse has been very, very naughty!”

Jesse grinned. This year had been the first since he came out that Jesse had felt enough at ease with himself to hook up with other men. After a few tentative, and highly successful, experiments, Jesse had thrown quite a lot of energy into screwing around.

“I wish I had something for you, Santa. At least something to eat or drink, but the house is practically empty.”

“The best gift is the gift of yourself, Jesse. Do you like Santa?”  Santa leaned toward Jesse and rubbed his swollen crotch with his hand. Jesse’s eyes grew wide. “Do you mind if Santa unwraps this package?” Santa asked. Santa knelt and pulled apart the buttons of Jesse’s jeans. Jesse’s thick cock grew straight and firm in the open air. “Santa likes this much more than milk and cookies.” Santa opened his mouth and took Jesse deep into his throat with one swift swallow. Jesse thrust himself deep inside Santa’s mouth and groaned with delight.

Santa’s rosy lips were thick and slick along Jesse’s appreciative dick, and Santa’s hands loved to wander over Jesse’s firm thighs and hard glutes. Jesse was prone to clenching his eyes shut as he was getting sucked, but the sight of Santa’s massive shoulders and back was too delightful to miss, and the firm, warm mounds of muscle begged to be felt. And Jesse enjoyed watching Santa’s backside in the mirrored wall across from the sofa.

Santa’s mouth sucked so hard that Jesse thought he would draw the cream from his cock without even making him cum, but every time he felt the cream rise up into the stem of his dick, Santa eased off and licked him like a lollipop. But finally Jesse could take no more of Santa’s ministrations, and his stone hard cock jerked and spilled its milky load deep down Santa’s humming throat. Santa swallowed it avidly and licked his lips with a grin as he allowed Jesse’s penis to pop free and bounce against his flat stomach.

“Something to eat and something to drink! Santa’s favorite treat!” Santa said as he stood.

Santa’s fellatio had been so good, Jesse was more horny now than when he had started. He grabbed himself and squeezed as Santa stepped back and threw his bulky bag of gifts over his shoulder.

Santa’s exit was more science fiction than magic. As he got closer to the crackling fireplace, his body seemed to stretch like silly putty and then snake rapidly up the chimney, pulling his lower body up after it.

A few minutes later, after Jesse had blown another load jerking and thinking about his gift to the old gentlemen, Jesse wiped himself off with his t-shirt and opened his gift from Santa.

Underneath the bright wrapping paper the cardboard box said ‘The Infinitely Progressive Resistance Machine’ and featured pictures of heavily muscled guys lifting plain chrome cylinders like dumbbells and barbells, while they admired their tight, pumped physiques.

“Exercise equipment,” Jesse said out loud. “It figures. What else would a bodybuilding Santa give?” But Jesse had to admit he could use a good exercise program. The way he was attracted to big, hard men, it certainly wouldn’t hurt to look more like one of them.

He popped open the stapled box and pulled out the simple looking chrome cylinder inside. It was about three feet long and made up of two segments that unscrewed to create dumbbells. It couldn’t have weighed more than five pounds and there were no plates inside the box. It was difficult to see how lifting this could provide a workout.

A booklet inside congratulated the proud owner of the ‘world’s most innovative and effective exercise machine’ and provided diagrams of over fifty exercises that promised to work every muscle of the body.

Jesse stood in front of the mirrored wall in the living room and held the bar in front of him. He curled it slowly upward and was astonished by how much resistance the five pound bar gave. It was all he could do to lift the bar under his chin, and oddly it was just as difficult to lower. He could feel his arm muscles strain and see his veins pop with the first rep. By the end of just one set his arms were pleasantly fatigued, and amazingly they looked bigger than might be explained away by a muscle pump.

Jesse hurriedly worked his way through an exercise for each of his major body parts, straining and sweating, but feeling rather energetic at the same time. When he lowered the bar on his last rep, the device beeped once and spoke.

“Congratulations! You’ve completed your first full body workout in just 19 minutes! Calculating progress…calculating…calculating…you’ve gained five pounds of muscle and lost two and a half pounds of fat.”

Jesse chuckled. What a scam! It’s not that he hadn’t got a great workout, but no one gained weight that quickly. It was physically impossible to gain mass without eating something!

Yet when he looked in the mirror he thought he did look a little bigger and a little firmer.

“Please begin your level two workout.”

The bar vibrated gently in Jesse’s hands. He flipped through the manual and looked at the exercises for level two. What the heck? He didn’t have anything else to do.

Jesse twisted the bar apart and sat at the edge of the sofa to do concentration curls. Once again the bar felt impossibly difficult to move, but this time Jesse felt like he was actually getting stronger with each rep, not that it was getting easier to lift.

After he’d completed one set for each arm, he couldn’t resist doing a double bicep flex. Damned if his arms didn’t look bigger again! He screwed the bars back together and worked through each of the exercises. On the last rep of his squats, the ass of his jeans split.

Jesse smiled. This was ridiculous, but undeniably fun. If it was a dream or an illusion, Jesse hoped it never ended.

Jesse peeled off his jeans, now as tight as his skin and stood in his underwear, proud of his progress, but not ready to rest yet. He moved through the remainder of his exercises, glancing at his reflection between sets, admiring his now irrefutable progress.

As he set the bar down after the last exercise of level two, it spoke again. “Please rest before beginning level three.”

Jesse was inclined to damn the advice and continue, but the bar was now impossible to raise from the floor, so he lay back down on the sofa and fished around inside the box, pulling out several small peculiar items and examining them briefly before setting them down on the floor and drifting off to sleep.