DO NOT OPEN UNTIL CHRISTMAS

One of the reindeer near the back glanced over his shoulder and snorted.

“Oh shut up, Blitzen,” the driver snapped, “You work one night a year. Get over it.”

Blitzen ignored him.

The sleigh then dived down to land on the roof of a vast apartment complex, and within seconds, the fat old elf all dressed in red was down the main exhaust chute from the heating system and back with an empty sack. “Lucked out on that one,” he chuckled, “A whole complex full of nice kids for a change. No naughty ones! Can you believe it?”

The eight tiny reindeer, plus the illuminated lead steed, shook their heads. The snow flurried about them and the wind picked up a bit as their jolly sleigh driver pulled out his nefarious list and put on his glasses.

“Hmmm,” he mused, “All done here in the Twin Cities.” Then he groaned. “Now it’s out into the country, boys.”

The reindeer snorted anxiously, and almost before he could seat himself again in the sleigh, they were rising at breakneck speed and banking to the southwest. As the snow tapered off a bit, the driver - so lively and quick - glanced down a large red barn. “And the first one of you I catch screwing a cow this year is going to get neutered when we get home. Is that CLEAR?” he shouted.

There were eight snorts of disgust and one startled yelp.

“There’s one in every crowd,” the driver muttered.

The sleigh touched down softly upon the slate roof of the old farmhouse, and the driver jumped out with his sack, which was still empty. “Uh-oh,” he smiled, “Looks like I better consult the naughty List, boys! I think someone’s been VERY naughty here!”

The reindeer all nodded. Somewhere in the barn, a cow mooed.

“Don’t even think about it, Comet,” he snapped.
Comet sighed.

He then reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the List. He let go of one end of the ornate scroll, and the other end rolled across the roof and down over the gutter to drop to the ground and roll halfway across the front yard. It sent puffs of dry powdery snow flying as it went.

“Jesus Christ, boy, what have YOU been doing all year?!” the old man exclaimed. He adjusted his spectacles and his mouth dropped open.

“Masturbating, are we, Timmy?” he chuckled, reaching back into the sleigh. “Well, no toys for you,” he sighed, picking up a heavy wrapped package that was much longer than it was tall. He then sauntered over to the chimney and in a flash he was gone.

As he emerged from the fireplace, dusting the soot off of himself, he paused to look at the tall Christmas tree all adorned with pretty decorations and twinkling white lights. Presents to Timmy from Mommy and Daddy were piled here and there, and the old man turned to face the stockings all hung by the chimney with care.

“Well here I am, sooner than later, Timmy!” he chortled, heading for the staircase. He paused at the coffee table, where he saw a glass of milk and some cookies. He shook his head, his eyes wide. He held up a finger, his eyes flashing, and turned back to the kitchen. In the fridge, he found a 12-pack of Blatz and popped one open. “Now that’s more like it,” he sighed, heading back up the stairs with package in hand.

When he reached the top, he turned left and wandered down the hall the door that was marked “My room, my mess, my business.” He opened the door and slipped inside. Very soft moans and squeaks reached his ears, and his eyes searched through the darkness adjusting to the pale moonlight. He looked up, twitched his nose, and a cloud moved away from the moon.

The pale silver ambiance spilled into the room, and he saw before him a young boy, perhaps twelve at the most, laying naked on his bed with penis in hand. The boy was stroking himself rapidly, his eyes closed in ecstasy as his hand moved up and down upon his small adolescent member. He was using his other hand to play with his balls, and the old man snorted. The boy had hardly sprouted his first hairs, even, and he was masturbating for all he was worth.

“Hello, Timmy!” he called, and the lights suddenly came on by themselves.

The boy yelped and grabbed at his blanket, but the old man was upon him in a flash. “Who are you?” the frightened youngster squealed as the old man pulled some tinsel from his pocket and with the speed of lightning, bound his hands to the bedposts.

“Don’t you believe in Santa anymore, Timmy?” he asked in a hurt tone.

“This isn’t funny, Grandpa!” he retorted hotly.

The old man shook his head, moving so fast to bind the boys feet to the foot of the bed that the surprised youngster couldn’t even follow his moves. He struggled against his bonds, but the tinsel wouldn’t budge. “What the fuck is this shit?” he cried, desperately trying to free himself. Then he turned to face his captor.

The fat old man was wearing a red suit, and his eyes, how they sparkled, his dimples, how merry, and his cute button nose, as red as a cherry. But there was strange fervor in those eyes, wide and maniacal, and Timmy gasped.

“Santa?” he asked.

“That would be me, yes,” the old man agreed, reaching into his pocket again.

Timmy screamed.

“Now, now, son, we can’t have any of that. Here ...” he offered, stuffing a large satin bulb in the boy’s mouth.

Timmy struggled and tears ran down his face, which was red with humiliation. Here he was, Christmas Eve, and Santa Claus had caught him jacking off! Worse yet, the old man looked pissed! Timmy continued his futile efforts, but the seemingly magical tinsel held him tight. Naked and humiliated, helpless, he finally stopped squirming and looked his captor in the face again.

Santa smiled. “I have a present for you, Timmy, but first ...” he said, snapping his fingers. In a sparkle of elfin magic, the List appeared in his hand. The boy stared at the small scroll, which then unwound and ran out the door, down the hallway, and down the stairs. His eyes bulged. Santa nodded.

“Oh, yes, Timmy, the List! YOUR List, in fact! You’ve been a very naughty boy this year!”

Timmy shook his head. The List advanced and dinged.

“Add lying to the List now,” Santa reported.

Timmy started to cry again.

“Oh, now, no more of that. Santa has a present for you.”

Timmy stopped crying, his greed suddenly getting the best of him. His eyes fixated on the long package. He struggled with his bonds again, then lay still, confused. His penis twitched, still erect, and a very small drop of precum leaked from the end of it.

“I see bondage excites you, boy,” Santa observed.

Timmy decided not to risk it and nodded. Santa smiled.

“Your little buddy, Alex, likes bondage too doesn’t he?”

Timmy nodded again, his face flaming and his cock aching. He desperately wanted to grab it and finish what he’d started when interrupted, but he still just couldn’t believe it. This is the wildest nightmare I’ve ever had, he thought.

“Would you like for Santa to show you your gift?” he asked.

The boy nodded vigorously. “Umh-mhumh,” he mumbled through the bulb gag.

The old man smiled and nodded. He unwrapped the package slowly. “Any old farm boy should recognize this tool, Timmy,” he laughed, dropping the box and paper and holding up a brand new set of chrome plated elastrators. He then reached into his pocket again and pulled out a box of 100 green rings.

“Not much good without these. Pack of 100? Well, we’ll only need 2, you know,” Santa advised.

Timmy’s eyes bulged and he began to chew at his makeshift ornament gag and scream. His cries for help were muffled though, and his parents heard not a sound. He thrashed at this bonds, the tinsel cutting into his wrists and ankles. He shook his head and struggled in vain as Santa knelt over him and began to massage his scrotum, rolling his small testicles around in their sac.

“Tell me, Timmy, can you shoot yet, or are you still dry?”

Timmy shook his head. He glanced at his hand, and managed to make the “a little bit” sign with two fingers. Santa nodded. “A little bit, huh? Oh well. Now,” he said, cocking the chrome device and loading it with a green band, “Brace yourself, naughty boy, this is going to hurt like hell!”

Santa manipulated the boy’s tight little scrotum until it began to loosen, the pulled the frightened boy’s balls though it. He then squeezed the handles, and the green band snapped off onto the boy’s scrotum.

Timmy howled into his gag as the most intense pain he had ever felt in his life shot up through his groin and spread through his body. He thrashed harder, but the tinsel simply would NOT give. He stared in horror, his eyes full of tears, as the old man reloaded the elastrator and began working his aching balls again. He watched, remembering how many times he himself had banded animals on their farm, and realized what was happening.

He had been caught jacking off, on Christmas Eve, by Santa Claus.
And the old man was pissed.

He watched as Santa forced his reddening sac through the second band, and he screamed into his gag again as the next band bit down into the soft flesh of his near-hairless scrotum. Then Santa patted his stomach, and turned to go.

“That’s a good boy, Timmy,” he said.

Timmy howled in desperation, as he watched his balls turn dark red, blue, purple, then black all in matter of seconds. There seemed to be sparkles of light surrounding them, and the pain began to dull. His chest heaved up and down as he sobbed, realizing that his balls were dying fast - much, much faster than they should have. Hell, it takes WEEKS for an animal’s balls to fall off! he thought, staring at the strange old man by his bed.

“But these are MAGIC elastrators, Timmy,” Santa explained. “They work in a twinkling. Just like how I move from house to house in a flash! The whole world in one night! Did you know that I save the naughtiest boys for last every year?”

Timmy shook his head, still sobbing, willing to do anything if the old man would just let him go before he became ... castrated.

“Castrated,” Santa mused. “All I want for Christmas is a sweet little eunuch boy, my my, how nice that sounds!”

Then, as if remembering something, Santa turned back to him. For a wild second or two, Timmy thought that he was going to let him go. However, the old elf took the boy’s aching penis in his gloved hand and began to stroke it. “I almost forgot,” he said in a soft voice, “What you were doing when I came in. I think you should have one last climax, even if the naughty list says you’ve had 1,253 of them so far this year.”

Timmy raised his head in surprise to watch. Had it been THAT many times? He had lost track, it just felt so good. He didn’t think it was wrong, but then again, the current state of his predicament told him otherwise.

It didn’t take him long to orgasm, and his body jerked and shivered as a few drops of thin fluid dripped from the end of his small penis which was almost totally hidden by the rough glove. However, the pressure was not dropping. He could feel his trapped balls straining and pumping, but nothing could escape the two tight bands. The orgasm went on and on, and Santa began to stroke his small penis harder. Timmy realized then that the glove was very rough, and it was starting to hurt. He shook his head, begging the old man to stop, but Santa just smiled a frightening smile. “I think it’s all out of you, now, Timmy,” he mused. “You’ll be a good boy all year now?”

Timmy nodded vigorously, eyeing his swollen and red penis. The skin was raw, and it hurt terribly. The last thing that he wanted to do was to touch it, ever again.

Santa smiled at him, and as he pulled his hand away from the suffering youngster’s groin, the blackened scrotum holding his little balls came away in his gloved hand. Santa held them up and smiled broader. He then dropped the set into his pocket. He then patted the boy’s cheek, covered him and tucked him in, and kissed his forehead.

“You’ll be free in the morning, Timmy,” he advised, “and you’ll find this lovely toy in your stocking when you get up!”

Timmy clamped his eyes shut as the lights went out.

“Now be a good boy until next year,” he heard a voice saying ere he drove out of sight, the sleigh climbing high into the clearing and cold sky.

Once again, he checked his List - twice. Alex’s record was longer than Timmy’s had been, and of course, the sack had been empty when Santa had checked it. Of course, he knew that it would be, since he was finished with all the good little boys and girls for the night. Only the naughty ones remained.

“I like this part of the job!” he chuckled, reaching into his pocket. His hand closed upon something cold and very heavy; something made of steel. He pulled it out, and the fireplace burst into flame. The reflections of the those flames danced and flickered, shining in the mirror-glossy surface of the huge burdizzo that was already giving him wrist cramps. He trotted up the stairs, down the hallway, and softly pushed the door to Alex’s room open.

Alex, all of fourteen years old and already with a fuzzy upper lip, was fast asleep in his bed with visions of sugarplums (or in Alex’s case, candy bars and Playstation2 CD’s) dancing in his head. Santa smiled and squeezed the handles of the burdizzo, carefully creeping to the foot of the sleeping boy’s bed. He noticed the prominent in the blankets near the boy’s midriff, and thought of Timmy.

“Pervert,” he sniffed. He undid his belt slowly. “You like bondage, do you Alex? You like tying poor little up and abusing him?”

Alex smiled in his sleep, and the tent in the blankets twitched.

“I thought so.”

“Mmmmmmmmm,” Alex sighed in his sleep, his hand exploring beneath the covers.

In a flash, Santa’s belt lashed out and stung Alex’s cheek. The boy sat bolt upright, the moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow giving the luster of midday to objects in Alex’s room. He rubbed at this eyes, then his cheek, and stared. Someone was in his room!

About then, he felt something pull the blankets off as something else - something warm and soft and thick, grabbed his ankles!

“What the hell?!” he exclaimed, but soon found a satin bulb stuffed into his mouth! A green-mittened hand lashed out at him, shoving him back down on the bed as the lights came on.

There before him stood a man, dressed all in fur from his head to his foot, and his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot. A burdizzo clamp tool he had gripped in his hand, and his wide eyes sparkled with malice like some peddler gone mad.

The belt, which the old elf had removed before waking the boy, snaked its way around his feet and up his legs to his waist. It then coiled around his chest, growing in length until it enfolded his upper arms and wrists. It lashed it self to the headboard, and Alex found himself bound tightly in thick, warm leather. His five and a half inch erection throbbed in time to his pounding heartbeat, and he stared in wonder.

Santa?! he thought, since his mouth was stuffed with a satin bulb.

As if hearing his thought, the old man nodded and smiled again. My God, he looks like some kind of screaming old queen - dress up - Charles Manson type! Alex thought.

“Oh you’ll PAY for that one, Alex,” Santa promised, snapping the wicked looking and heavy burdizzo at him. Of course, living on a farm like Timmy’s, Alex knew what the clamp was used for. His face paled and he began to struggle, as Timmy had done, but to no avail. The impossibly long belt held him down, and the feel of the leather rubbing at his smooth skin excited him.

“You’re incorrigible,” Santa told him, “And my List says you’ve been very, very naughty this year. Poor little Timmy. You did things with him, didn’t you, Alex?”

Alex shook his head, fast.

The list, as it had done for Timmy, beeped and grew longer.

“Why do they always try and lie to me?” Santa sighed, “Don’t you know I see you when you’re sleeping, I know when you’re awake? I know if you’ve been bad or good, so you better be good ... oh fuck, it’s too late for that, isn’t it dear boy?”

Alex’s eyes grew wider as the strange man in red leaned in closer. He tried to scream, but the bulb muffled his cries. As Timmy had been, he was helpless.
And he was enjoying it.

There he was, naked and bound in leather as a strange old man threatened him with a burdizzo clamp. How many times had he threatened his buddy, Timmy with that, getting them both so aroused that they had to masturbate together? How many times had he strung Timmy up in the barn, whipped him, tormented him, made him do things to pleasure him? Oh, and how he’d enjoyed it! But he’d never let Timmy do that to HIM. Timmy was smaller, he didn’t have any hair yet, and his dick was so small! He didn’t deserve to wield the instruments, Alex did!

Santa shook his head, flexing the clamp at his excited victim. “Oh, you’ll like it, Alex. Timmy liked it, too. He got off, he did. Hardest cum he’d ever had, too. It was so good he cried all the way through it. You won’t have that, though, I’m sorry to say,” Santa informed him, working at his pink and loose scrotum with his rough green mitten.

Alex moaned in pleasure as the old man caressed him, but his eyes never left the clamp. Somehow, he knew what it was going to be used for, and part of him reveled in the thought of it.

It’s gonna hurt, I bet, he thought, It’s gonna hurt, but he won’t really do it. He’ll snap it and let it go. I bet I’ll get off on it, just like Timmy did!”

But Santa was shaking his head ‘no,’ and working his scrotum, hard. He pulled down on it, hard, and Alex yelped and flinched. God, it hurt!
But God, he loved it!

He watched in amazement, his cock leaking pre-cum, as Santa slid the green mitten off and aligned his right nut’s cord in the jaws of the clamp. He then gripped the handles firmly and squeezed.

Pain as Alex had never known it blossomed up through his groin and into his belly, making him arch his back and try to pull away. He screamed into the satin bulb that was jammed into his mouth, realizing too late that Santa wasn’t going to let off of the clamp.

Time slowed down and Alex’s entire life became agony. Vision of not sugarplums, but of Timmy’s naked body danced in his head as the pain shot through him in waves. On and on it went, until the only thoughts his mind could form were ones of escape. Mentally, he began to plead for release, promising anything if the pain would just stop.

“You’ll be a good boy all year long now?” Santa asked.

Alex’s face was wet with tears, and he nodded and tried to say ‘yes’ again and again.

“Very well then, Alex. That was a full minute. Now we have to do the left one!” Santa said sadistically.

Alex shook his head and whimpered. He didn’t think he could stand it, not again, and the pain from the first round was not totally gone. His right ball ached, and his stomach hurt, but the old man took his left one, lined it up, and Alex’s ears filled with the soft “kr-thkk” sound of the clamp being closed.

“Oh it’s a MAGIC burdizzo,” Santa was saying through the fog of pain, “Just like Timmy’s magic elastrator. Did you really think I’d just come to tease you off, Alex? Poor little Timmy, he’s a eunuch now. BUT he’ll be a good little eunuch, probably for the rest of his life. I have his dead little balls in my pocket. Would you like to see them?”

Alex shook his head no, whimpering in pain. Oh God, make him stop! he cried out in his head, I’ll be good, just please, please make him go away!

Then the clamp released, and Alex relaxed. The pain disappeared as Santa bent down close to his face. “I’ll leave these in your stocking, Alex, and you can play with them all you want on Christmas morning! Too bad Timmy can’t join you for the fun! Now, when you wake up, you won’t be sore at all. I’m not that cruel! Your balls will probably be numb, but then again that just means that the fun’s about to begin! Just wait until the testosterone begins to wash out of your body! And don’t even think about HRT, Alex. Remember, I see you when you’re sleeping ... and all that other bullshit.”

Alex stared at him in terror, his mind racing. Santa just castrated me, he thought, chewing at the bulb in his mouth, I was just clamped by Santa Claus because I was bad this year!

But when he opened his eyes again, Santa and the wicked clamp were gone. Then in a twinkling he heard on the roof, the prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

The belt was gone, and he was free. He was, however, too sore to move. Alex pulled the covers back up over his head and curled up into a fetal position, wondering when and praying that he WOULD wake up.

Downstairs, the fire went out as Santa laid a finger aside of his nose and gave a nod. Up the chimney he rose!

“Merry Christmas, Alex. See you next year!” the suffering boy heard a voice cry out from high in the sky.

As the sleigh streaked though the starry sky, Santa pulled out his the naughty List again. He sighed as it uncurled behind him, flapping in the wind for what seemed like miles. The reindeer then hove sharply to the right, and came down upon the roof of a double-wide trailer at the edge of a rather seedy-looking mobile home park. Dasher snorted in disgust.

“Oh, get over it!” Santa snapped.

There was, however, no chimney this time. Instead, Santa went right to the front door and marched in as if owned the place. He rounded the corner into the living room and ran smack into the cutest little girl he’d ever seen. She gasped and dropped her glass of water. “Santa!” she breathed.

The old man nodded, smiling. “Did you know, Sabrina, that you’re my last stop for the night?”

She shook her head, her long braids flapping. “I made YOUR house a double-stop!” he announced. “Now, I’m rather pushing it here on time,” he said, reaching into his pocket. “I didn’t bring the sack for just one little toy. I thought I’d give it to you in person! Then I’m going to go see your big brother, Billy!”

Sabrina’s eyes were wide and sparkling as the jolly old elf handed her a brand new “Divorce Court Barbie, complete with all of Ken’s stuff” in a collector’s edition package. She looked at it and gasped in wonder, then threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. “I love you, Santa!” she cried.

“You were a good girl this year, Sabrina, I’m rather tired of naughty boys, you know!”

She wrinkled up her nose and snorted. “Then you won’t like Billy. He’s an asshole!” she declared. Santa very nearly dropped her as he laughed.

“Oh, but I have a special gift for Billy!” he announced. “Now, why don’t you run along outside, put on a coat, and just lay your finger aside of your nose and give a little nod and float up to the roof to pet the reindeer?”

“Really?!” she squealed in delight.

Santa nodded, and she fled. “Lovely child,” he sighed. “Now for Mr. William, the stud himself!” he said darkly.

Proceeding down the hallway, Santa took precautions. He reached into his pocket, found only little Timmy’s severed sac and balls, and looked in the other pocket. “Ah there we are!” he exclaimed, pulling out a huge string of twinkle lights. “Damn things are good for something after all!”

He then marched into the first bedroom, where he found young Billy asleep and dreaming of his girlfriend. “Poor girl. Don’t know what she sees in him. Worthless, lazy bastard,” the old man cursed. Then, in a flash, he was upon Billy and had him bound in the twinkle lights so that he couldn’t move a muscle.

The sixteen-year-old awoke with a start, but Santa stuffed his last satin bulb into the boy’s mouth, gagging him before he could begin to swear. That, however, didn’t stop him from trying.

“I’m not even going to bother with YOUR list, asshole!” he announced. “Let’s just get to it, Billy! You’re sixteen, you have a high sex drive, stupidly high hormone levels, and you love sex. You lie, you cheat, you steal, you terrorize your little sister to no end! You haven’t been a good boy since you were nine years old, and frankly, Santa’s had it with your shit! Last night, though, you went TOO far!”

Billy looked at him in puzzlement.

“You fucked your girlfriend, AGAIN, out of wedlock!” Santa cried.

“Mmmm,” Billy grunted, as if that were the most natural thing in the world. And your point is what, fat man? he mused.

“My point, Billy, is this - she’s pregnant! She’ll have a little girl, her parents will toss her out, and she’ll come running to you. You’ll deny it, of course, and she’ll end up with a nasty old Auntie in southern Illinois waiting tables for a living and trying to provide for YOUR daughter.”

Billy shrugged, struggling against his twinkling bonds. His impressive erection was up and throbbing, and the old man reached out his rough green mitten and touched it. Billy flinched, but he stayed hard. “Yes,” the old man crooned, “Get used to it, because no girl is ever going to want YOU when I’m done here!” he promised. “You might consider the joys of anal sex, Billy, because you’ve stuck that dick of yours in its last vagina! The only thing you’ll be good for now is as a little boy-toy for some leather daddy, I’d think. Maybe I’ll just DELIVER you to him afterwards!”

About then, Billy realized that he wasn’t dreaming. He thought he heard his sister’s voice, talking to someone! He craned his head this way and that, and he could hear her plainly, talking to the ... reindeer?!

Santa nodded at him. “You’ll be nice to her, too Billy. She’s a lovely little girl that deserves a much better brother than YOU!”

Billy began to thrash then, desperately trying to escape his bonds. It was impossible! There was no such thing as Santa! He’d stopped believing when he was ten or so, when he didn’t get the BB gun! He saw the old man nodding.

“You’d have shot your eye out, kid.” Santa explained.

Billy screamed as his eyes then locked onto the thin strand of icicle decoration that the old man was making into a loop. He waved his hand over the boy’s genitals, and immediately Billy lost his hard-on. He stared in wonder. “Say bye-bye to it, Billy,” Santa advised, looping the icicle, all silvery and shiny, tightly around his entire genital package. The decorative cord dug into his flesh, and the old elf pulled it tight. He then stepped back and waited, and in a few moments, Billy’s package began to ache. The pain persisted for a bit, then Santa shook his head.

“There’s no time for this shit,” he snapped, waving a hand over Billy. A cloud of sparkles descended from that hand, and Billy’s package went cold and numb. It turned red, then blue, then purple. In seconds, it was black.

The hormonally driven boy tried to cry out again and thrashed at his bonds, unable to believe what was happening! Santa Claus was going to emasculate him on Christmas Eve!

Then the old man nodded and pulled a large knife out of his boot top. Billy stared at it, shock setting in. He stopped struggling and fixated on the blade. Santa drew closer and closer, then suddenly lunged downward, slashing.

Billy screamed into his gag as the blood flew and Santa lifted his penis and scrotum up and away from his body. He pulled at the icicle tie, and the thing sparkled and shimmered as the blood pulled back into the wound as it closed over. Billy stared in wonder, his eyes full of tears. He had stopped struggling however.

“You’ll feel soooo good in the morning, Billy. You’ll call your girlfriend and break up, of course, since you can’t pleasure her anymore. Of course, you never cared about HER. It was all for YOU. Then, this summer when she gives birth, you’ll admit that it’s yours and get a job and pay support. You’ll struggle to finish school, but you will. You’ll work your ass off until next Christmas, until I come back to see Sabrina and her new little niece! Won’t that be nice? Of course, you could always hire on with me as an elf, you know. Once the testosterone is gone and your suitably docile, the body hair and whiskers will all fall out and the sex drive will go. HRT would be a bad idea, Billy. You don’t have a penis anymore, and unless you want to be ass-fucked so you can cum again that way, your sex life is over. You know, I bet you could sculpt wonderful wooden horsies for me! Mrs. Claus could even get someone in cosmetics to sharpen your ears!”

Billy took one last look at his severed genitals and passed out.

Back up on the roof, Santa fetched little Sabrina and tucked her in and kissed her goodnight, promising to come back next year if she was good and promising her a huge surprise in late June or July. She smiled in wide eyed wonder, and promptly fell asleep.

Then, like dry leaves before the wild hurricane fly, meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky ... the team took off to head home for a well-earned rest.
Then the cell phone rang.

“No, Kris,” she said in a soft voice, which meant that she wanted something, “You got a late call. Actually, it’s email. Don’t you just love the information age and the Internet?”

“Yes, dear,” he replied.

“Anyway, hon, there’s this little fellow in Minneapolis, I think, a suburb, who stays up all night long on his computer surfing the net for - get this - castration information! Actually, he’s fascinated with it! He sent in a very strange wish just now, emailed it, you know, and since you were in the area ...”

“But dear,” Santa moaned, “I’m all done for the night!”

“You’re close enough, Kris. Now you turn that sleigh around head back over the St. Croix river and head for the Twin Cities. You should be able to find this little fellow, Bryan, easily enough. He’s a very cute little fellow, Kris. You’ll just love him!”

Santa pulled out his list, and checked it twice.

“But he’s such a good boy, mama! I just left him an 80-gig hard drive and six fans a few hours ago! He wanted a new Pentium tandem processor motherboard really, but I was all out of those! What else does he want?!”

“Well, what have you been doing for the last few minutes?” she asked.

“I elastrated Timmy, burdizzo clamped Alex, and nullo’d Billy. Why?”

“You did a castration, a clamp, and a nullo. Didn’t you miss something? Didn’t you read Sex in History by Ms. Tannahill? Lovely little girl, you know, but a bit naughty!”

“I love it when you talk like that,” Santa whispered, his face flushing like a schoolboy’s in the sight of his favorite lady teacher.

“You left out one facet of castration, Kris,” she chided.

He thought for a moment, but came up blank.

“Oh for Heaven’s sake, Kris. Go cut this little boy’s penis off and make him happy!”

Santa spluttered and dropped the phone. He dug around in the litter of the floor of the sleigh, and found it again. “Say what?” he demanded.

“That’s all he really wants for Christmas,” Mrs. Claus replied. “Think of how much trouble it will keep him out of! Leave his little balls for puberty, so he can grow up into a fine young man. He won’t be able to masturbate, like little Timmy, you know. It would make him so happy knowing that he’ll never be able to cum again!”

“Mama, I think you’ve lost it,” Santa replied.

“Pleeeeeeease, dear? For me?” she wheedled, “And for little Bryan? He’s so unhappy the way he is now.”

Santa spun the sleigh around and approached warp speed as he cut across the night sky. The reindeer were all panting when they arrived in the Twin Cities. Santa then pulled his laptop out, fired up the wireless satellite Internet access, and hit the Eunuch Archive. He found little Bryan online as “Bboy” and sent a ping request. In seconds, he was heading for the roof when he saw a small face in the frosty window, the soft eyes wide in wonder. "Go back to bed, kid, you ain't double-dippin' Santa!" The face in the window vanished, leaving only flapping curtains.

It wasn’t much of a lawn, but as Bryan lay in his bed with the keyboard in his lap chatting away, there arose such a clatter that he sprang from his bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window he flew like a flash, tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

And then, in a twinkling, he heard on the roof the prancing and pawing of each little hoof. As he drew in his head, and was turning around, down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound!

He stepped out into the room and looked around. “Hello, Bboy,” he said in soft voice.

“Santa?”

“That would be me, son.”

“I always KNEW you were real!” Bryan cried.

“You’ve been a very, very good boy this year, Mrs. Claus tells me,” Santa said.

Bryan blushed and looked shyly down at his feet.

Santa sat down on the couch, and held out his arms. “Come sit on Santa’s lap and tell him what you REALLY want for Christmas, Bboy!”

“I don’t think you’ll believe me,” the boy said, snuggling down into the furry, red coat as Santa hugged him tight.

“Try me,” he urged, reaching down towards his boot.

“Well, for a long time, I’ve had this idea. I mean, I have this problem, and, well ... it’s like this ...”

But about then, Santa looked down and noticed the little tent rising up in the front of Bryan’s PJ’s. He laughed, and Bryan blushed again.

“I know you emailed your real wish to me, Bboy,” Santa said softly. “But are you SURE?”

Bryan nodded vigorously. “I don’t want it, Santa. Can you take it back with you?”

“If you’re sure you really don’t want to be able to jack off, or ever cum again in your life, I will, Bboy,” he said in an understanding tone. “That’s what I’m supposed to do, isn’t it? Bring good little boys and girls what they ask for? Unless it’s a BB gun of course.”

Bryan nodded. “I don’t want one of those,” he agreed, “I’d probably shoot my eye out.”

Santa laughed again, and pulled the knife out of his boot.

Bryan gasped in wonder and swallowed hard, making a small gulping sound.

“W-will it h-h-hurt?” he stammered.

But Santa shook his head. “It’s a magic elvin knife, Bboy. It’s very sharp and it cuts so fast you don’t even feel it! And since it’s Christmas, and I’ve been known to work a little magic of my own, you won’t even bleed. We can’t have you in the ER on Christmas, now, can we?”

Bryan shook his head, his little erection pounding so hard in his PJ’s that it hurt. This was IT! His email had gone through, it had been read, and there was Santa Claus with a magic knife in his own living room! It was too good to be true!

“Oh it’s true, Bboy,” Santa said, as if reading his thoughts. “And I’m not that damn Harvey fairy-character in a tutu either, am I?”

Bryan shook his head, his wide eyes shining.

“Are you ready?” Santa asked, scooping the little boy up in his arms and carrying him back to his room.

“Yes, sir,” Bryan replied, as Santa laid him on his back and situated him so that he was comfortable.

“Do you want to do it one last time?” he asked, “Because it’s OK if you do. Timmy just carried it to extremes is all.”

Bryan thought for a long time and then finally said, “No, sir. I just want it gone.”

“Very well, then Bboy,” Santa replied, taking the ankle cuffs of the boy’s PJ’s and slowly pulling them down and finally ... off. The elastic waistband had caught on the boy’s erect penis, and as it pulled it down, it let go so that it snapped right back up to attention. Bryan laughed.

Santa smiled and pulled his green mittens off, setting them on the desk next to the PC’s monitor. He tested the edge of the blade and nodded. “Here we go,” he said.

Bryan stared in wonder as the old man gently grasped his penis, which went limp with his touch. He felt his balls creeping up close to his body, as if seeking shelter from the knife. But he knew that they were staying. He wanted THEM to stay. He wanted puberty and all the frustrating changes that he knew that it was going to bring. He shivered in anticipation.

Then, with a movement so fast that his wide eyes could almost not follow it, Santa made the cut with the elvin knife.

The small and limp penis came off in his hand, and the warm blood that began to flow out immediately was pulled back in by the trail of sparkling lights that the blade left in its wake. The wound closed over, leaving no trace that little Bryan had ever been born with a penis at all.

Santa held it up for the excited boy to see and he sat up, laughing in delight.
“It was very well circumcised, too, Bboy. It’s a shame to waste it. BUT you won’t get into trouble with it now, will you?” he asked, dropping it into his coat pocket.

“No, sir! Thanks so much, Santa!” the boy cried in delight.

The old man then helped him back into his PJ bottoms and tucked him into bed. He kissed his forehead, and the boy was asleep instantly. Then turned to the PC, which was still idling in the EA chat room.

>Where did you go, Bboy?< someone typed.
>Bboy, are you there?<

Santa smiled and typed /nick Santa_Claus, then typed a bit more and hit enter.
The other chatters gaped in wonder as the message came up on their screens:

On Christmas morning, Bryan awoke with what felt like a raging hard-on. He had to pee so bad, and he jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom. He pulled his PJ bottoms down and reached in ... and his hand found nothing! He jerked his bottoms down to his knees, and spun around to the long mirror on the back of the door.
He gasped, then a wide grin split his cherubic face!
His balls were fine, just like they always had been, but his little penis was GONE!

He raced back to his room, sans PJ’s, and shook the mouse on his PC to wake it, then gasped in wonder. There on the desk right by the monitor were a pair of rough, green mittens!

“Mom, Dad!” He cried in a voice filled with the kind of joy that only a little boy at Christmas can know, “There really IS a Santa Claus, and he was HERE!”