Santa’s little helpers

forced milking, horror, fantasy, rape

The boys of Wildcats wrestling club have an unexpected encounter.

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Santa’s little helpers

Aiden scowled at the man standing in the middle of the room. Around him, 15 members of his wrestling team stood, secured by wrists and ankles to the wall just as he was. All 16 of them were afraid and naked. But horny, so very horny. Always horny, as the subdermal drugs kept them excited to fever pitch. Their perfectly shaved dicks all stood to attention, as they had been for weeks. Precum drooled continuously from the ends.


“Morning boys, ready for another day’s work?” the man said.

His comment was met by a series of groans.

The man waited patiently while a woman released each of the boys one at a time. Despite the fact that the man and woman were alone and clearly at least in their 80s, the captives did not rush them. The man held a group of Doberman dogs on a leash, and they looked as though they would quickly and savagely shred any boy who tried anything. One of them looked meaner than the others, more like a hellhound than and Earthly animal. Its face bore the scars of many fights. One of its eyes was milky and blind, and its nose was red, permanently injured by bites and scratches. Without encouragement, it yanked at its leash, snarling terrifyingly at the boys, who cowered away from it.

“Easy Rudolph,” the man yelled.

The dog turned and scowled at the man, and the man’s eyes glowed orange, and he curled his own lips to reveal pointed teeth. The animal cowered into silence.

“Alright, get your uniforms on, there’s lots of work to do.”

Next to each teenager, hanging on a peg, was a collection of clothes. Aiden started to dress. He pulled on a green, fur-rimmed jacket, and secured the wide leather belt with a ridiculously large brass buckle that did up around his belly button. Then he tugged up a pair of red leggings. When he’d first seen them, he mistook them for tights, and that would have been bad enough, but these were two separate legs that rose to the V of his thighs but were not connected. The jacket was short, and it was clear that the ensemble was designed to leave his ass and dick exposed. He slid his feet into green felt shoes with curly toes, then all that remained was the hat. Aiden was a cap person – it helped to hide his unruly hair, especially when he had bed-head, but this hat was ridiculous. It was a green with a wide gold and red brim. It had a long, floppy end with a bell hanging from the tip.

When he was dressed, he looked around at his teammates. They all bore expressions that were a mixture between humiliation disgust and simmering rage. Having to dress as elves was embarrassing enough, but having their junk on permanent display was the icing on the cake. But you didn’t fight openly with a supernatural entity, and there was no doubt the man WAS supernatural.

One minute the team was walking out of the locker rooms after training, the next, this elderly, white-bearded man was pulling each of them with inhuman strength, from a sack that opened into this prison room. None of the boys could remember how they’d gotten into the sack, so it apparently acted as some kind of magical portal.


The man led the boys to the workshop. It was a warehouse that stretched as far as the eye could see in every direction. It was filled with machines, moving conveyer belts, and millions of now-immortal, half naked teenagers who had been stolen down the centuries, and who were now dressed as festive elves working the lines.

They passed along a section of the warehouse that had no workers, and one-by-one each member of the team was deposited at a work station. When it was Aiden’s turn, he reluctantly moved into position in one of the work stations. He’d done it many times before and he knew the drill. The work station was a barred-off area, similar to a horse stall. He slid his hard cock into the waist-height transparent tube before him. The woman moved in and closed a barred gate behind him. A curved bar pressed his legs just below his buttocks, and a second pressed the small of his back, holding him place and ensuring he could not withdraw his penis.

Surrounding the end of the cylinder, a ring of soft latex nodes were attached to the inside of another much shorter cylinder. Small pistons automatically adjusted the inner circumference of the nodes, pressing them against Aiden’s glans, ensuring that they were in contact with it from the tip, all the way to the soft skin behind the corona.

Between his legs, robotic fingers encircled his scrotum, tugging his testicles down away from his body, trapping them against a shallow bowl. They were pressed against the bowl firmly enough to make them bulge, spreading on the warm base, but not hard enough to cause discomfort.

Behind, Mary Klaus swang into place, an arm on the end of which was a short chrome butt plug. She forced it into him, securing it in place, and in turn, locking Aiden in place at his station.

She groped his butt-cheeks, leering at him with cracked and blackened teeth.

“Are you ready, you lucky boy?”

He knew from past experience, that any negative answer only increased his discomfort as she would set the milking program higher, or perform an act of sado-masochistic sex on him, so he remained silent and gave a curt nod. She turned on his station and he felt the devices activating. The cup beneath his trapped testicles started vibrating; a gentle electrical tingling from the butt plug teased his prostate and his ass-lips, but most arousing of all, the ring surrounding his glans started rotating, spinning the soft, lubricated nodes against his glans. Aiden gasped at the sensation. It was shockingly stimulating. Normally he was careful about touching the nerve-dense skin of his glans directly, but now the pivoting nodes slid across every millimetre of it and there was nothing he could do to prevent it.

He knew from past experience, that what started pleasurable, would rapidly turn into an alternating cycle of pleasure and maddening discomfort, as the machine drew dozens and dozens of orgasms from him throughout the day, and then continued, mercilessly to stimulate his sensitive helmet paying no heed to his need for a refractory rest after each ejaculation.

The machine’s only purpose was to extract as much semen from him as possible, forcing his swollen balls to give up their milky fluid.

It took less than 30 seconds for his first orgasm, and his pearly goo splattered against a back pane before dribbling into a transparent drain-pipe sized trough that snaked around the warehouse, catching the elves’ cum and transporting it to the processing room. The air in the seemingly-infinite warehouse was thick with the musky stench of boy-cum and adolescent sex sweat.


Aiden looked down at his worktable. A new object was delivered by conveyor belt for him to work on. It was a rubber dildo, based on his own cock. He carefully painted the veins on its side blue to match his own, then he boxed it and passed it the “present” conveyor, from where some surprised teenager would receive it as a gift on Christmas morning.

The next object to arrive was a chastity cage. Right now, he would prefer his cock to be locked rather than hard for 12 hours a day. 60, 70, even a 100 orgasms every day was tiring, even for the super-fit young men on the wrestling team, and even though his testicles were growing from the exercise, he fell asleep each night in a state of complete exhaustion.


To his right, he heard begging. It was Freddie, the lead fighter in the 189-pound division. To his side, the man had unzipped his once-white trousers, and had pulled his genitals out of the fly. He had a semi-loose scrotum the size of a large grapefruit, and a penis that hung six inches long flaccid. It was as thick as a salami sausage, and it had a long, very loose foreskin. The penis was incredibly ugly; old, and wrinkled, and looked to Aiden, more like a mole rat than a dick.

The man gripped it and started to work it in his hand.

“No please, not me!” Freddie begged.

The man ignored his pleas, and his penis got hard with a speed that belied his apparent age. It lengthened to 8… 9… 10 inches, growing thicker as it did so. The head, as red as the elves’ bright leggings, was clear of the foreskin now, as the skin withdrew down the shaft.

The fat, elderly man moved in behind Freddie and gripped the captive boy’s hat and hair, effortlessly yanking his head back.

“No please sir, no!” Freddie wailed.

“Call me “Santa”,” the man snarled into his ear with a grin, then he thrust his monster cock into the boy’s virgin hole, and fucked him hard and with the savagery and urgency of a prison rapist.

Freddie screamed and wailed in torment as Santa pounded his hole for five long minutes, unable to pull his ass away from the brutal pounding. Each time Santa thrust, the bell on the boy’s cap jingled, which seemed to amuse the man endlessly and he bellowed with laughter.

“Ho, ho, ho!”

With each “ho”, he slammed his cock deep, swinging his enormous nuts between Freddie’s legs.

“Ho, ho, ho” had always seemed like such an unnatural laugh to Aiden, but now, in this place, timed with his thrusting, it ceased to be an unnatural indication of jollity; rather it was a sadistic expression of complete dominance as the rotund figure destroyed his victim’s hole.

To make matters worse, Freddie’s own cock was being milked with the expertise of a thousand-dollar hooker, drawing his own enormous load of cum from him, even as Santa wrecked his hole.


The nearby boys continued to labour, pretending not to look, but glancing askance with their peripheral vision at the brutal rape that was taking place. Santa was constantly horny and had a near infinite capacity for fucking, and he would enthusiastically rape any “elf” who he deemed was not working hard enough.

Eventually he withdrew and his enormous cock was bloody, as it always was. He wiped it with his hands, before smearing the blood off them onto his trousers and jacket, adding Freddie’s blood to that of countless boys before to his clothing, giving his trousers and jacket their distinctive red colour.

Freddie blubbed, both in pain and humiliation. Santa’s thick, ancient cum poured out of his hole. It was yellow, lumpy, and semi-congealed like the egg nog Aiden had left out for him as a naïve child, but Santa’s nog was rancid, caustic, and it stung Freddie’s hole, leaving red welts as it dribbled to the ground.

Like his capacity for fucking, there was no limit on the amount of cum this supernatural being could produce, and he gave at least a mugful to every single one of the hundreds of victims he took each day.

Santa plucked a sprig of holly from a small bag he carried, and tucked it into the boy’s belt to remind him that he had already taken him. When the holly withered and the berries fell off, his hole would be ready for another pounding.


Mary Klaus watched beside him with a grin, and Santa turned to her. She lifted a sprig of mistletoe in the air above her face and leered at her husband. A forked, lizard-like red tongue flickered from her mouth and her eyes grew wider with lust.

“Come here bitch!” Santa said.

She moved to him and French kissed deeply, wetly and noisily for a few minutes, their blubbery old lips sliding enthusiastically off each other. The woman lowered her drawers and fingered her pussy as they kissed. It looked as ancient and worn out as Santa’s foreskin. They pulled apart, and she attached a double-headed dildo to herself with a belt. One dildo went inside her, the other end faced upwards at an angle.

She leered at Santa again.

“Let’s go find some more fresh boy pussies Nick!”

He grinned at her, and sniffed deeply from a vial of aphrodisiac stimulant in his hand. His cheeks instantly coloured red as his heart went into overdrive and his cock stood even stiffer. Drool fell from his floppy, old-man lips and they wandered off in search of two more elves to fuck.

Meanwhile, his own supply of semen increased to supernatural levels, Aiden came again, and his cum joined the endless river of boy jizz that flowed to the processing room.

In the processing room, the jizz was rapidly heated until it formed a spunk vapour, which was then rapidly chilled, turning it into flakes that would fall as snow over the festive planet on Christmas eve…

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