Finela carefully squeezed the pastry bag. A fine line of red frosting slowly oozed from the tip to outline the sugar cookie on the stainless table in front of her. "Damn! This is the ten millionth cookie this year. Why can't they give me something better to do like making toys?" she thought. "But then that old fat fart is totally chauvinist. 'A lady elf's place is in the kitchen, Finela'. Bullshit!" With a smile and an evil giggle, she wondered if anyone had noticed that she had put cocks on the Ginger Bread Men this year.
When Finela finished the last cookie on her table, we walked to the ladies lounge for a break. The lounge was deserted. Finela sat on the cheap fake-leather couch and pulled a Barbie Doll she had pinched from the production line over in "Dolls" from her shoulder pouch. She raised her skirt and began rubbing her clit with the doll.
Leaning back on the couch, mouth open, breath coming in short gasps; Finela enjoyed her break to the fullest. She screamed when she came with Barbie's head stuffed up her pussy all the to the doll's knees. "Wow," she thought. I'll send this doll over to "Wrapping" so another girl can get off on Barbie." Finela pulled down her skirt.
Just then, Wanda from the Administration Office came into the lounge. "Hey, Finela. Did you hear? The old fat fart is bitching because he says the Barbie Dolls smell like Elf pussy. What do you think of that?"
"Gee. I don't know. Maybe it has something to do with the plastic or something," Finela said innocently.
"Yeah, well. He's mighty pissed. And someone has been slipping condoms in with the GI Joe dolls too. Looks like someone's going to get fired in that department."
"Oh really? I wonder who could have done that?" Finela tried to look as angelic as possible.
"Well, Tull, the department head, is in with Fucker Claus right now. I could hear the screaming."
Finela chuckled to herself. She hated Tull with a passion. "Did you hear anything about my transfer request?" She knew Tull was the bastard who had the transfer held up on his desk.
"I spoke to the fat fuck about it earlier this morning, Finela. He said you'll get your transfer when hell freezes over. Sorry, kid."
"Maybe, I'll have to talk to him myself then," thought Finela.
Later, Finela milled around in front of the Bosses office thinking about what to say to him to convince him to approve her transfer. After careful thought and no real ideas, she knocked on his door.
"Come (*chomp*) in," came the voice the The Claus
Finela opened the door. Santa Claus sat behind his big, oak desk devouring the last of one of the fruit cakes, Finela had sabotaged a few days before. "Well, you gotta go, you gotta go," she laughed silently.
"Like the fruit cake, Boss?" she asked seriously. "It was a 'special' batch I whipped up."
"Yummy, Finela. Wish I could have them all the time."
"What would be your most ardent wish, Mr. C?" asked Finela seriously.
The Claus stared at Finela for a moment mulling over in his mind if he should confide it her. Finally, he said, "It's Mrs. Claus. Talk about being ''on the rag'! I've never seen anyone like her. Damn, I haven't had a piece of ass since 1946."
"That ain't what I heard, Mr. C," interjected Finela. "I heard a rumor about you and a certain red-nose quadruped."
"Well. You can't really count that. After all, how was I supposed to know that cocksucker, Rudolph, was the type to kiss and tell," The Claus grimaced.
"Yeah well. I think he's a bitch personally. It bothers me how he's constantly polishing the brown off his nose and all."
"So, why are you here, Finela?"
"Look Mr. C. I really need to get transferred out of "Cookies & Cakes". That place is driving me nuts. And, damn! I've been there since the 1850's." Finela frowned at the thought.
"Hmm. But you are such a good baker. I hate to lose you, Finela," The Clause remarked, rubbing his cock through his red trousers.
"Look, Claus. I see what you are doing with your cock. Approve my transfer and I'll give you a helping hand." Finela grinned broadly.
The Claus considered the idea. "No, Finela. Here's the deal. Blow job now. And get me laid...I mean really laid and you got your transfer."
"Well, a BJ is ok, but I ain't fucking no fat guys," Finela said wearily. "Especially fat guys with a fake-ass wig like The Claus wore," she thought.
"No. And I ain't really into none of your Elf poontang either. Elf snatch stinks to high heaven. Which reminds me. Do you know who's been stinking up the Barbie Dolls?"
"Umm. Barbie Dolls? Umm. No. Of course not, Mr. C. Why would I know anything about that?" stammered Finela.
"Well, I was just wondering. You know about everyone around the North Pole. I thought you might have heard something."
"Okay. I think we have a deal, Claus," Finela said changing the subject and getting down on her knees.
Claus unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock. Finela stared at The Claus' three inch cock for a moment. "No fucking wonder he can't get laid. I'd be pissed off too," she thought rolling her eyes. Reaching for The Claus, less than impressive, cock and began to stroke it.
Later that night, Finela moved quietly through the corridor in the Admin Department. The place was deserted. Finela found the file storage room and entered.
"Let me see. 2006 less, say, 15 years would made it 1991. That's a good place to start," she thought looking at the file cabinets. She walked between them and looked at each. Finally, she found the files for 1991. Finela opened the file cabinet and quickly began shuffling though the folders and notes.
"Wow! This one looks good. In 1991 Annie was 12 and she was a really fucking nasty little thing," Finela remarked as she looked at the file. "Hmm. Boinked the neighbor kid and his dad. Good. Already had a reputation as a BJ Queen. Excellent!" she thought.
Finela moved to a computer terminal near the door. She typed in Annie's Santa-ID and asked for an update on this little trollop. Finela read and smiled.
** Santa Data Base Query **
Annie W. Slutofsk.
Born - 1991
Attended Grayson Elementary School - 1984-1992 (Expelled twice) Known to have blown her 7th grade teacher.
Attended Wilson High School 1993-1997- Pregnant twice. Expelled once.
Worked as a stripper 1997-2000
Made eleven porn films 2001 (Contract Canceled when caught screwing the Cameraman)
Worked as a prostitute in Reno 2001-2002 (Fired because customers were to exhausted to pay)
Signed contract with Vivid Video for Porn films 2003 (Canceled because everyone was afraid to work with her)
Got job in Diner waiting table and hooking on the side 2003-2005 (Fired when bosses wife caught her with boss)
Owned and operated Porn Video store 2005-present.
**Toys earned - 0 **
** End Query **
"She bitch is perfect," thought Finela. "All she thinks about is SEX SEX SEX."
After making a few notes, Finela quietly left the file room and made her way back to her apartment in the "COOKIE and CAKE" section. There she hurriedly scribbled a note to her supervisor.
Doing something for the Boss. Be back tomorrow night.
She folded the note and went out into the hallway then down to Deru's apartment. She slipped the note under the door. Then made her way down to the stables.
"Okay, Rudolph, you little cocksucker. We're going for a quick ride," she told the reindeer as she climbed on his back. Rudolph leaped into the air and away they went headed for Chicago.
Finela found Annie's shop near the corner of Franklin and Van Buren. It was a seedy little place with the windows painted out so passersby could not see in. She went into the shop. Behind the counter was a tall, willowy blond-haired woman with the biggest fake tits she had ever imagined. "Those puppies have to be at least 44DDDD's," thought Finela, open-mouthed.
"Can I help you?"
"I'm looking for Annie. This is her place, right?" asked Finela.
"Yeah. That's me. Funny ears on you. Where'd you have that done?"
"Look. I'm a fucking elf. Okay? This is the way my ears are supposed to be," fumed Finela. "I'm here on a mission for the Boss."
"Boss? Who's the boss, sweetie?"
"The Claus. You know. The dumb ass fat dude at the North Pole that gives shit away on Christmas Eve."
"Oh yeah. I think I heard of him. He used to work at Vivid Video too, didn't he?"
"Shit. Wrong dude," said an exasperated Finela. "Look. Christmas Eve. The fat fuck comes down your chimney and leaves lots of presents...Well. Not you in particular, but for kids who make his "Good" list."
"Oh. That guy. Yeah. I heard of him. What about him?"
"Now look. This is important. The Claus ain't been laid in, like, forever. Got it? So, you've been selected to do him. Sorta bring the joy back to Christmas, if you know what I mean," Finela explained. Then, under her breath, "And my personal joy for the Christmas Bonus."
"Hey. I ain't going off to no North Pole just to do some guy. I get plenty right here, ya know."
"Okay. Slow down. You ain't going there. The Claus is coming here. All you gotta do is stay up until midnight on Christmas Eve and wait for him. Then give him the best you got. Understand now?"
"Um. Yeah. But what do I get for it. I usually get, like $500 for this kind of gig."
Rolling her eyes, Finela dug in her pouch for some cash. "Hmm. What about $49 and a 'Captain Midnight Secret Decoder Ring'? Believe me. It's worth a lot. It's an antique."
"Well. I'm not sure. Captain Midnight, eh? Never heard of him."
"Look. He was a fat guy on Saturday Morning TV back in the 50's. We have a deal or not?" Finela held out the $49.
"Well. I guess..." Annie took the money and stuffed it down her bra. Finela wondered how Annie would ever find it in there.
"Good. Now this is the scenario. Get yourself all dressed up in your sexiest teddy. Just at the stroke of midnight on Christmas Eve, the Boss will come down your chimney and...
It took Annie some time to grasp the idea of a fat man coming down her chimney to get laid and not through the front door like every other guy in Chicago. She wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed as Finela discovered.
The next afternoon, back at the factory, Finela went to the Bosses office.
"Ok, Boss. I got you all hooked up. Just slide you ass down the chimney at this address during your rounds and you'll find the package waiting for you." Finela handed The Claus a slip of paper with Annie's address.
The Claus read the address from the paper. "222 South Addison, Chicago, eh? And she's a good looking bitch, right?"
"Oh yeah. This is going to be the best fuck of your life, Boss."
Finela waited impatiently for Christmas Eve. "I wonder where he'll transfer me," she wondered. "Maybe Erector Sets or even Board Games. Those would be great," she giggled to herself. But Finela could not linger in her thoughts long. Christmas Eve was fast approaching and there was still much to be done. She baked hundreds of fruit cakes (none were sabotaged for a change), decorated thousands of cookies and made dozens of candy wreaths.
Finally, it was the afternoon of Christmas Eve. All the elves were rushing around packing presents and goodies in the sleigh. Finela did her best to stink up a few extra Barbie Dolls just to show she was in the Christmas mood.
"Finela, The Boss wants to see you," said her supervisor, Deru.
Finela rushed off the Administration and knocked on the Bosses door.
"Come in, Finela," said The Claus in a loud voice.
Inside the office, The Claus said confidentially, "Look. I lost the address of this Annie person. Do you still have it?"
Finela thought a moment. "It was 222 North Addison, Boss."
"Good girl, Finela. If this works out, you know what you get," The Claus said with a sly laugh of anticipation.
Later, Finela watched as The Claus in his sleigh flew off into the night sky. Then it hit her. "222 SOUTH Addison, not NORTH," she thought in horror. Finela sat and stared off into space. Before her eyes, she could see herself baking horrid, fucking, Christmas cookies and nasty-ass fruitcakes for the rest of eternity. "Oh FUCK!" she screamed. Finela had no idea how bad her future was about to turn out.
Circling over Chicago, The Claus consulted a road map he'd gotten in 1954 from an all-night Texaco gas station outside Dallas when Donner had to stop to take a dump. The Clause grimaced at the memory.
"Hmm. That's Addison right below us," he thought aloud as he turned the sleigh northward, landing with only the lightest bump on the roof of 222 North Addison. The Claus jumped from the sleigh and dived down the chimney only to land in a roaring fire.
"Jesus Fucking Christ," he screamed as he slapped at the flames that licked at his beard. Then he saw her.
"Claus, Baby!" screamed Hilda.
"Who the hell are you?" shouted The Claus. He was horrified by the huge apparition that stood before him. She had stringy rat-brown hair and easily weighed 400 pounds. Her boob hung like great melons nearly past her huge waist. And her face gave new meaning to butt ugly.
"I'm Hilda. Obviously, you didn't read "Harry Dick: Halloween Caper". Jenny Jackson wrote me in the story just for you, baby," Hilda said with a grin. "I got an email from her. She thought this would be a perfect ending for this trashy story."
The Claus hastily turned and leaped back to the blazing inferno in the fireplace to escape the sex-hungry, advancing heap of blubber. Hilda caught him by the leg and dragged him back, throwing him to the carpet.
"I'm wanting you now, Mr. Claus. They say you have a really big bran swagger. Not like that that Harry fellow. His was much small." Hilda began ripping the clothes off The Claus. The Clause found himself buried under 400 pounds of undulating flab and another 50 pounds of gross, disgusting, pendulous boobs.
Across the world at the stroke of midnight, one thing could be always be heard. "Merry Christmas to One and All." But tonight was different. The world heard The Clause screaming, "Finela, YOUR FIRED!"