Prose That Blows

Red Christmas, by InvizKing

Red Christmas

by InvizKing

Winner: Most Disturbing Story, Most Original Story
Runner-Up: Best Story

It was the night before Christmas when Santa Claus fell ill.
He was under a mountain of blankets, warding off chill.

Mrs. Claus took his temperature; ‘twas 102.
“Dear Nicholas,” she said, “Whatever should we do?”

With a cough and a hack, he beckoned an elf to his side.
That elf was Ginny, whose beauty and charm were bona fide.

Her long ginger hair flowed in tangles from beneath her cap.
Fit, young, perky: she was strictly kept from Santa’s lap.

“I’ve confidence in you,” Santa did say.
“You have the guile to pilot my sleigh.”

“A dream come true, this will be a delight!”
Ginny clasped her hands and thought of her flight.

She dressed for the job in Santa’s red suit.
Draped over her shape, it was indeed quite cute.

Mrs. Claus tisked when she beheld Ginny’s slender form.
“You’re improperly sized, how will you keep warm?”

From a cabinet she fetched a bottle azure.
“Drink up – this will make your body far more mature.”

With a grin and a squeal, Ginny downed it all in one go.
Suddenly her stomach grumbled and then started to grow.

Her belly rose like the sun from the east.
It blew up as though she consumed a feast.

When her tum finally stopped, she could barely stand.
Then her backside billowed, and her hips did expand.

Last but not least her breasts outgrew her lacy brassiere.
Mrs. Claus lent out hers, with a smile most insincere.

“I’m fat as a Christmas ham!” Ginny did wail.
“Come now, Ginny, be jolly! You were much too frail.”

Looking past her new girth, Ginny managed a smile.
“I can see your point; this should wear off in a while.”

“Of course it will,” said Mrs. Claus, a total lie.
Around Ginny, a belt Mrs. Claus did apply.

“With my magic I blessed the buckle,” said Santa with a wheeze.
“You can now fit down chimneys and eat quite a lot of cookies.”

“Quite a lot of cookies? Why, I’ll get even fatter!”
“They power your magic and are no laughing matter.”

“If I must, I will, for on me Christmas depends!”
Ginny waddled to her sleigh and waved goodbye to her friends.

When the reindeer were prepared, they all took to the air.
Mrs. Claus grinned wickedly as she touched up her hair.

The days of Santa leering at that elf girl were through.
Mrs. Claus reveled in giving that strumpet her due.

When Mrs. Claus put the belt on Ginny, she left it too loose.
And the flimsy buckle would break under a bit of abuse.

As she eats cookies, Ginny will grow fatter.
The belt will then break and she will go splatter!

“I hope that she will fare well tonight,” Santa said with a sigh.
“All according to plan,” his wife said in a manner most wry.

Ginny whooped with glee as she dashed through a snow cloud.
Below was her first stop; won’t Timmy be wowed!

Her sleigh landed on the roof without so much as a sound.
She rubbed her buckle and was down the chimney in one bound.

Presents were left beneath the tree all a glow.
When Ginny ate her cookies, ‘twas time to go!

She went from house to house, unseen and unheard.
Time was not fixed to her; it was quite absurd!

But the cookies in her stomach were indeed very real.
For she grew rounder and rounder with each sugary meal.

“I’m bigger than Santa!” Ginny said to herself.
“I can get used to this; I’ll be a jolly fat elf!”

Ginny grew accustomed to her expanding girth.
And she gave presents to every child on earth.

And so she traveled from Zimbabwe to Baton Rouge.
As her pack grew empty, so did her body grow huge.

She was a bloated red balloon with fluffy white sleeves.
Granting Christmas wishes to everyone who believes.

There was one gift left when she rolled out from the hearth.
She left it under the tree for Mr. Slugworth.

Little did Ginny know that her belt was about to give.
And with so many cookies left out, it hadn’t long to live.

Ginny gobbled them up in an unladylike fashion.
There were five dozen cookies and no end to her passion!

Upon eating them all, Ginny’s belt groaned under the strain.
Paying it little attention, a glass of milk she did drain.

With the glass still on her lips, her belt buckle gave way.
It shot through window and was never found to this day.

“Oh, no! I’m totally hosed!” Ginny huffed.
And then it hit her; she was completely stuffed!

She looked down and felt the magnitude of her belly.
It was tight and firm, unlike a bowl full of jelly.

Without the belt’s enchantment, she was packed to the rim.
She’d never fit up the chimney – her fate was most grim.

She tried to walk, but couldn’t swing one thigh over the other.
And so she waddled by shifting her weight one way then another.

Thankfully the chimney seemed plenty wide.
She waddled before it and squeezed herself inside.

“I’m packed tighter than a can of sardines.”
“Just one deep breath could blow me to smithereens.”

She gripped the bricks and pulled herself up with some luck.
She climbed up a yard before her hips got her stuck.

“Hi Santa!” came a tiny voice from behind.
“He saw me, oh great! I’m in a real bind!”

“Ho, ho, ho!” Ginny tried to deepen her voice.
“Free me from this chimney, and we will rejoice!”

“Don’t worry Santa, I know a trick!”
From a shelf, the child brought a candle stick.

“I’ll push you on through and away you will go!”
“No! Please don’t, kid! I’m too big! I’ll blow!”

The stick pushed hard into Ginny’s big tush.
And she exploded into red velvet gush.

Down the chimney flowed; a torrent of cheer.
Little Andrew didn’t get what he wanted that year.

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