Santa Claus

[Doodle]

   It was that time of the year again. Christmas Eve. Of course, I couldn't sleep. What boy can on such a day? The same questions running through everybody's mind: When will Santa come? What presents did I get? Has he forgotten about me? Over and over, those same questions. I couldn't stop thinking about them. 12a.m, and still no Santa Claus. The anticipation was killing me. I was dog tired, I could feel it. But no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't fall asleep. I lay there, awake. Waiting.

   I glanced over at the clock. 2:30a.m, and still no Santa Claus. I was becoming impatient. I'm sure I was expecting too much, but he can give everyone their presents in one night. Surely he would have gotten to me by now!  What if I was skipped? Could it be some sort of error? What if I was just a bad kid this year? While everyone was getting presents, I would be stuck with none. Or worse, I could have a chalky, black rock in my stocking.

   Another glance at the clock. 4:00a.m, and still no Santa Claus. It was time I investigated. I threw off my blankets and marched to the big evergreen, decorated with all sorts of colorful accessories. As I drew closer, my attention was stolen by a bright, red ribbon, glistening in the moon's light. Santa must have been here! I ran over to the tree to find it surrounded in piles and piles of different sized boxes, all wrapped in colorful paper. I knew I couldn't open them now, not without my parents. But seeing those presents reassured me. I knew I could sleep now.

   I started back to my room. That's when I saw him. A dark, plump figure, looking right at me. I froze in amazement. It must be Santa, right before my very eyes! I saw his legs pick up, and he started walking over to me. I was about to meet Santa Claus. Jolly, old St. Nick. The big man himself. He froze 5 or 6 feet in front of me. I could see his face now, the moonlight shined right on it. His expression wasn't what I had pictured. It wasn't jolly. His eyebrows were slanted, his big eyes focused on me. A wicked grin on his face. What the hell? Then the unexpected happened. He took off his pants and underwear, right in front of me, the same grin still on his face. Revealing his sack of toys, which was surprisingly hairy. I wasn't sure what was happening. I couldn't think about anything else.

   Now he was naked, and he started walking over to me. Before I knew it, I was on the ground, my clothes being ripped off my body. He was on top of me now, my stomach on the floor. I was pretty sure his toys were inside me at this point, his thrusts shaking my entire body. I was in a state of shock. I didn't scream, I didn't react. I didn't do anything, but lay there, Santa Claus on top of me, his cock pulsing inside my anus.

   It was over now. I was frozen. We laid there, together, for what seemed like hours. Finally, he snickered and got up, collecting his clothes from the carpet. As he was bending over reaching for his underwear, I glanced over at him. There was a tattoo, right on the left cheek of his butt. Text that read "Big Daddy."

   That Christmas was vague and foggy. I remember the usual. The presents, the family, the fancy dinner, but none of the details. I do remember my mom asking me why I was acting so strange, however. That night, I went to bed real early. As I lay there in bed, I started asking myself, why this whole event happened. I wasn't sure if I should tell my parents. If I did, maybe I wouldn't get presents next year. I'd be on the naughty list, because I told on Santa. Eventually, my legs hopped out of bed, and the rest of me followed.

   I walked to my parents bedroom. The door was closed. I paused before opening it, taking a deep breath. Then I grabbed the knob, twisted it, and pushed. My parents were playing some sort of game. My dad was on top of her, naked. His hairy ass in plain view. All I could get out was a short "Mom," before I saw it. The same tattoo that Santa had. "Big Daddy."

   Now I sit here in this office, on this chair, writing. Putting the story I've never told on paper. The psychiatrist only wants to help, so I'm helping him help me. Maybe this is the source of all of my problems. The pain I've had for 26 years now. Can it all be reversed? Can I get rid of those awful years, and replace them with the years I could have had playing on the swing set? Climbing the monkey bars? Playing in the sandbox?

   He let me keep the story. He let me take it home. He said I should keep writing down what I'm thinking here. What a nice man. That psychiatrist and I had a long chat that session, but I decided I should part ways with him. Part ways with everyone. I looked over to my right. The long, sharp knife. Just sitting there. Looking at me. Screaming, "Big Daddy."

[JrDude]

Santa is the saint of hookers, or something like that. It's true look it up, he makes a list of naughty people for a different reason then you're told

[Macawmoses]

santa claus multiplied by i makes him real

[Custom]

santa claus is a gay ass homo jew nigga

[Mystic]

That was kinky.

[Kayo]

poor Doodle.

I hope you recovered from that.

waitwut

[jnfs2014]

Silver=Santa.

[Kayo]

Silver=Santa.

PLERT

[Lotos]

I remember this story.  I like it :)

[darkmario]

Silver=Santa.

That.

[Tsumaru]

It all makes sense now...

[Mystic]

Silver=Santa.

Isn't Santa married?

[jnfs2014]

To hoes who he pays.

[Mystic]

Silver is poor as poop.

[Custom]

Silver is poor as poop.

He works at Target for 8 hours every day.