Mr. C's Return

Mr. C's Return

The Man comes back to rectify a Christmas problem. He doesn't like the bad P/R he's been getting. This will take care of that. No sex, but they talk about it. This is in response to "Mommy Kissing Santa Clause" by SookieHaze7. Not my favorite, and it would appear, a lot of other people didn't like it, too. This is in "Loving Wives" where the other two Mr. C stories were. As I've said before, this is the Big Leagues of Literotica.

Please, enjoy. Happy Holidays!

Mr. C was sitting in his office. It was February 1st, and it was cold and nasty, even by North Pole standards. Mr. C was pissed. Santa Clause? Pissed?? WOW!!

Yeah, he was pissed. It was a month and a half since Christmas, and the bad news kept coming up.

Mr. C was going over some very disturbing reports on Christmas Eve happenings reported by his Elf Security detail. These were elves that circulated around the globe, checking up on things that happened on the Greatest Night of the Year. Several reports had come in of 'sexual improprieties' on Santa's exploits while conducting business. This was bad. More than thirty allegations of sexual adultery with married women, many with children. His law firm was scrambling to cover everything, covertly, because 'everyone knows that Santa Clause doesn't exist!'

'This is outrageous. Ridiculous! Crazy!!' He looked around, and then, uncharacteristically, yelled, "THIS SUCKS!!!" His intercom beeped and Cassie piped up.

"Dad, Mom is here."

With that, Mary, Mrs. Clause, entered and walked up to her husband's desk with a cup of hot cocoa with marshmallows -his favorite. She placed it on his desk coaster pecked his cheek and perched on the end of his desk. She was his all, his world. The 42-year-old Jersey girl, the mother of five now considering she had adopted Mr. C's two stepdaughters, was still attractive. She looked about 34 due to the Mantra, North Pole magic, and Cassie and Esmy's ministries, and was very comely. But in a sedate manner. But she only had eyes for Mr. C, and she never let him forget it.

"Chris, what's wrong? Surely you don't believe these reports. I don't. I know you're not like that. You're a good man. Besides, you're mine, and mine alone. Santa isn't naughty," she said, running her hand across his tight chest, "Except in my presence," she added with a sly smile.

Just then, the intercom beeped again.

"UH, Mr. Clause, there's a gentleman here to see you. He says it's urgent!!"

'Mr. CLAUSE? Cassie never called me MR. CLAUSE. Dad or daddy, sometimes boss if it was official. But MR. CAUSE??'

"UH, who is it, Cassandra?"

"AHEM, He says it's err, uh, ahem, he says it's Saint Nick, sir."

WHAT??

"Send him in and call security. STAT!!"

Mary rose with an incredulous look on her face. Chris rose to face the door, as it opened, revealing-

An elderly, tired man, with a long grey beard, dressed in ecclesiastical garb from around 1000 A. D., holding a silver crosier in his right hand, and caressing his beard with his left. Behind him was a small man in clerical garb, carrying a leather satchel, probably more antique than the North Pole. Uh, Oh.

This was Saint Nicholas of Myra, Asia Minor. The original Santa Clause, if you will. From around 270 A.D. to 343 A.D. A pious man who went out of his way to help the poor and less fortunate.

(Works for me.)

My predecessor had told me a bit about him, but even he had never met him. I wasn't even sure he was still around. But here he was, in my office, sitting in front of my desk. Yeah, you can't put anything over on me.

The holy gentleman smiled at me and said, "Please, sit, Chris. And you must be Mary. (addressing my wife) Your reputation precedes you as well, my Lady. Your work with the Gaza refugees and the orphans in Uganda is well thought of, in Heaven."

Mary blushed down to her chaste peasant blouse and beyond and diverted her eyes, smiling.

He turned to me.

"As is your good reputation. The recent 'unpleasantness' not withstanding."

He held up his hand as I started to protest.

"Christopher, Christopher, you don't think anyone believes these stories, do you? As a matter of fact, that's why I am here. The Lord is extremely displeased with the stories being spread. And His Son even more so, especially on his birthday. So much so that Saint Michael had the Archangel Tactical Squad take over the incidents. Now, it did not make the media, but there were 32 incidents, all across the United States. All the individuals were visited by angels, and the necessary evidence was gathered and processed. The females involved were suitably admonished and reprimanded. Then the aggressors were tracked down and visited."

"Visited? What do you mean, 'visited'? And by whom??"

The holy man chuckled again.

"Why, Michael sent seraphim to 'talk' to the miscreants. Imagine, if you will, being visited in the middle of the night by several tall, muscular young men, garbed in armor with leather battle skirts, and sporting three-foot-long flaming swords, while sporting large wings. Impressive, no?

"The individuals to a man broke down and confessed. They voluntarily turned themselves in to the applicable authorities. I understand that the confessions matched the crime reports, but their stories of contrition were not believable.

"I mean, Angels, with swords?

"The authorities were not swayed. But the confessions were solid. I am also led to believe that 27 of them are still in some sort of mental facility due to the extreme trauma. All of them will be charged and probably convicted. So that part is 'handled', as they say. This brings us to the 'rest of the story'."

Saint Nicholas sat back with a satisfied, and slightly smug look on his face, almost daring me to ask ......

I bit.

"And?? What's the other shoe, as they say? And when is it going to drop??"

This guy may be old, ancient even, but he was on his game.

The bishop chuckled.

"Mother Nature was right. You are smart. Saint Michael informed the Lord as to who was behind this nefarious plot. Of course, God knew all along, but was pleased to see Saint Michael was 'covering all the bases', I believe is the expression. He directed me to speak with you to rectify this. So, do you want some 'payback'?"

"ABSOLUTELY, sir. Who is it, where is he, and what are my options??"

Saint Nicholas grinned and turned to his assistant. The short cleric had opened the satchel and produced several papers, bearing headings and seals reminiscent of Top Secret military documents from the Cold War. He passed them to me.

I looked at them and as I was reading them, Jeeves appeared. He bowed to the Bishop and kissed his ring. He asked if there was anything he could get our distinguished guests.

Nicholas hesitated briefly and looked at his assistant.

"You know, kind sir, I have not had any good wine in a long time. Do you think you get us two goblets, please?"

At this point, Mary joined in.

"Perhaps some food, also, kind sir."

The prelate smiled and nodded.

"Thank you so much. Bless you, my child."

Jeeves bowed and turned to leave, with Mary scurrying after him.

As they left, I finished reading the documents drawn up by the Archangel Tactical Squad. The ATS had done a great job, and the conclusion was evident. Still, I was dumbfounded. I couldn't believe what I was reading.

"KRAMPUS?? They say KRAMPUS is behind this travesty?? I actually never thought this guy was real. What do we do now??"

The bishop smiled.

"The Lord thought you would feel this way. Anything you want to, but cannot kill him. He is, after all, a demon. But vengeance is yours. The Lord says to 'do the right thing'. Saint Michael says the ATS is at your disposal if you feel the need for support. I believe Mother Nature has provided you with pictures and maps ....?"

She had. Topo maps, satellite photos, roads, and layouts of the cave complex where the demon resided.

Just then, Jeeves returned with refreshments, accompanied by Mary, Cassie, and Esmy. And tagging along were Mary's three children- Michael, Sean, and little Constance, my Connie. I was smitten with her, in a fatherly way. The boys were good young men and were coming along nicely.

My Esmy and Cassie were awestruck at meeting the real live Saint. The three little ones were stunned to meet Saint Nick. They thought I was Santa. Michael was fascinated, Sean was shaken, and Connie, well, Connie was overjoyed.

"SANTA, SANTA,!", she squealed. The good bishop, for his part, extended his arms and wrapped her in a hug--the boys he greeted with nods and smiles. Mary was antsy and smiling and hovering around being a Mom and good hostess. Jeeves, well, Jeeves was his usual unflappable self, serving two goblets of wine to our honored guests, and laying out some Entenments cakes. He was cordial, and very complimentary as to the refreshments.

I finished the reports and was thinking. I did not think Saint Michael's offer was necessary. The Troll Squad and I will handle this. I paged Stanley and Igor.

I thanked Saint Nicholas and after a short visit, he left, blessing everyone and again thanking me for the good works I had done. Then, as he left, he turned to caution me.

"Remember, Chris, no 'extreme prejudice', I think they call it. Behave yourself. Bless you, my son."

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate everything you've done. Tell the Lord I won't let him down."

"He already knows, son", he said, smiling. With that, he left.

Stanley and Igor arrived soon after. I laid out everything I had and asked for input. Their response was swift.

"Let's go kill him, boss."

"Easy. We can't kill him. God says so."

"Okay, then let's go get him and beat the living daylights out of him, then feed him to the jackals in the Sahara."

"What, and get the hippy environmentalists after me for poisoning the jackals? Nah, I don't think so."

Scratching his head, Igor said, "Well, what do you want to do, boss??"

I thought for a moment. I had an idea.

"I tell you what. Let's go play Seal Team, capture him, and bring him back here. Then I think some of my new toys will work out quite nicely, thank you very much." I beefed up my physique a little to resemble the Rock. As we left for the hangar, Mary saw me, and I swear she blushed and shivered as she licked her lips.

I hoped.

So that's what we did. Stanley and Igor recruited the toughest Trolls I had, twelve of them total, and we deployed in the F-10000 to the mountainous area in Western Austria. The cave complex was in an otherwise remote, unpopulated section of the low mountains. Seems like the butt-hole didn't like to be watched or seen by decent folks. Made our operation simpler.

We set down and deployed. No lethal weapons, lots of flash bangs, and shotguns with bean bags and ASPs. And several magic spells and divine incantations to counteract the demonic presence.

The squad surrounded the complex and using the latest infrared and night vision gear, (did I mention I love toys??) we assaulted the caves, secured the 'inmates', and surrounded the culprit.

Lots of flash bangs and plastic 12 gauge rounds were expended. The Trolls were consummate professionals. (Yeah, they had a GREAT time. I think they posted their body cams on U-tube, but I could be mistaken.)

Krampus was a trick to capture. He roared, fought, gestured wildly, and put up a good fight. But in the end, goodness and right overcame all else. At least, a right cross to his ugly jaw did. As he went down, he took two shotgun rounds to the chest, and a swift kick to the abdomen. We trussed him up, shackled his wrists and ankles, and dragged him to the 'Sled'. Seven and a half hours later, we were home.

We took our prisoner to the lab, out back of the toy workshop. I had recently acquired a working model of a little gizmo from Industrial Light and Magic. I had the only working edition of an Industrial Carbon Freezing Kiln. Yeah, that's right--Han Solo's worst nightmare.

(Santa Clause? Toys?? Remember???)

Now, I was under orders, from on high, that I could NOT do in Krampus.

Mutter, Mutter.

(Sorry, Lord.)

But I could make his existence really bad.

Wait for it.

And as much as I REALLY wanted payback, I was firmly ensconced in the Great Golden Book. No way was I going to get onto the Ultimate Naughty List. So we took the a-hole to the Kiln Room, as I referred to it, and put him into the history books. Well, my history book anyway.

Lighting flashed and smoke billowed as his demonic personage was cast into the Industrial Carbon Freezing Facility. We hadn't tried it before this, so .......

The noise (and the smell) were horrendous. The flashing lights set off the fire warning sirens. Then- silence.

Just like in the movie, the chocolate-colored block rose from the pit, with a stainless steel frame around it and a flashing panel on the one side. My techs checked his vitals and flashed a thumbs-up.

They secured the block and lowered, it onto a gurney and I strode up to it. Just like in the movie, you could see his ugly, bearded visage in the face of the block. And his two horns stuck out the front, over his head, just barely clearing the frame, out of the carbon.

That is until I smacked them off, and they clattered to the floor. HEH, HEH, HEH! Take that, pervert.

I had his block prison cell hauled off to the North Pole Jail. It's not very big, because, after all, it is the North Pole. He was ensconced in a windowless interior cell, the lights were switched off, and the door locked. Case closed.

The uproar died down in the media. No one cared about the B/S that had occurred on Christmas Eve.

When I got back to the house, Jeeves informed me that Mrs. Clause requested my presence upstairs- immediately. She had mentioned something about an emergency. Stunned, I raced upstairs to the master suite, barged in, and came face to face with my wife, standing there in a demure, knee-length chenille bathrobe and fuzzy slippers. Well, she is a mother.

"Mary, what's wrong? Are the kids okay?? Are YOU okay??"

"Everything's fine, Chris. I just wanted to 'get a piece of the of the Rock', as they say before you changed back." With that, she shrugged off the robe and kicked the slippers to the side. There she stood, as naked as the day she was born. Forty-three years old, and a fine, fine-looking woman.

"And," she added, "I wanted to kiss Santa Clause. After all, I am a Mommy!"

That's it.

Epilogue

This is in reply to the story "Mommy Kissing Santa Clause", published in "Loving Wives" on 12/05/2023. I hated it. But don't believe me. Based on almost all the comments, most of the free world did, too. So this is my take. Santa doesn't do those things. It's Christmas, for goodness sake's. Leave the sex for the sexy stories. The world is bad enough as it is. Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday, Jesus, from the BEARS in Conroe, Texas.

And now, a word from our sponsor-

You know who you are. You know what our values are here in this Country. Libel is libel, slander is slander. You will be hearing from my attorneys in New Jersey, the law firm of Dewey, Cheatem and Howe., LLC. And you're already on the Naughty list- for the foreseeable future.

Remember, I'm watching. Signed, S. Clause

P.S. Santa would like to thank NORAD for tracking him on Christmas Eve and keeping him safe. God bless our military and ALL our veterans.

Merry Christmas, Y'all