Ch 2: Santa's Lap
Sitting on Santa's Lap
copyright 2011 comidacomida
When I was a pup I didn't like Christmas, and that 'tradition' carried on in my life for many years. Now don't start thinking that I was suffering from some kind of 'bah humbug' anti-Christmas sentiment for no good reason cuz that's not the case. Everyone knows that Christmas is the time for family and, well... to be honest, I didn't exactly have the perfect family. Maybe there would have been an upside to my mom trying, but it was worse than that-- Christmas was just as much a living hell as any other day.
You know how everyone makes a big deal about the holidays? When you're in school everyone is talking about wanting to do this, or going to do that, family time this way, hanging out with the family some other way, going off to see relatives, home for the holidays, with family for the holidays... I could go on forever... and I'll be damned if the season didn't seem to do the same.
See... when you come from a home like I did 'family time' wasn't something you looked forward to. Having all the other kids in your class jumping for joy that they were going to have family time was a direct slap to the face. Every time we had to write stories about what we wanted to do during Christmas Vacation and all the presents we got was pretty much being told by the school that you were gonna have to eat shit sandwich. During those first eighteen years I had quite a few buffets... let me tell ya.
Anyway, that's the short story version of why I always hated Christmas. The first three years of working at Walter Media Group kept that tradition alive; me and Jason were always invited to the Christmas parties. The first year he stayed home with me, and god if I didn't feel bad about that because, unlike me, my Human can't seem to get enough of the holidays. The second and third Christmas parties he attended without me... I even think he was thoughtful enough to come up with some bullshit reasons why I couldn't go. Year four, though... that's when he had a different plan for us... well... for ME, specifically.
It started off pretty much like any normal Friday night. When we got home I took off my shirt and tossed it on the sofa. Jason patiently reminded me that it belonged in the hamper and while I was trying to decide whether I wanted to order Chinese or a pizza, my Human was off to go make sure the toilet was still working (he had to take a piss, if that was too subtle a way to say it for you). Right about the time I was laughing at the Chinese menu (did you ever notice how Hunan Pork looks a lot like "Human Pork" if you're not paying attention) Jason made his way into the living room... and that's when the status quo changed.
"I talked to Bradley today about the party tomorrow night." Jason noted in passing. He has a way of saying the most innocent-sounding things right before he clobbers me upside the head with an unexpected thought. To be honest, I'm surprised I don't start expecting em... but for some reason I never do. I think it's my thick skull, but Jason is sure it's because I secretly enjoy getting surprised. He's so full of shit about some things-- I hate surprises.
"Cool. Are they going to do another theme thing?" I asked, setting down the Chinese menu and looking over the pizza delivery page. He had told me the previous year that they did some 'walking in a Winter Wonderland' decoration something-or-other and that it went well.
"Actually, this year they were going to open the party to the whole family." Jason explained, "They want to have kids there too."
"Kids aren't exactly the best guests to have at black tie dinners though." it was a simple observation as far as I was concerned-- fancy suit plus little kid equals big dry cleaning bill.
"That's another thing they're changing." Jason clarified, "It's going to be family casual."
I made some kind of affirmative tone. I love my Human, and he's almost always worth listening to, but there are some times where your attention is REALLY needed for something important, like deciding if getting extra cheese was worth farting all night. Jason hates my farts. He got my attention pretty quick though.
"We're gonna have you play Santa."
"No you're not." I responded patiently. I thought he was obviously joking with me.
Jason came over and sat down on my knee, "It'll be great." he confirmed.
"It'll be a disaster." I countered, "Now tell me you're joking."
"The kids will love you." he pressed.
"I don't love kids..." I reminded him, "and I'm starting to think you're serious."
"We even got you a hat." he announced and, without so much as a 'May I?', that little fucker plopped down one of those red and white Santa hats RIGHT ON MY HEAD.
Without any other real option I said the only reasonable thing I could think of. "I'm getting extra cheese."
He waited patiently as I ordered but, sadly, the conversation, picked right back up where it had left off. "It'll be a great surprise." he pressed, as if the two minutes of me-on-the-phone hadn't even happened.
"I hate surprises." I notified him, setting the phone down.
"A surprise for the KIDS." he clarified.
"I don't like kids." I repeated my earlier statement.
"Kids love Santa." Jason reasoned.
"I don't love Santa." I reminded him.
"But you love ME, right?" Jason asked. I knew that the question meant nothing good and he pressed the advantage, "I do love Santa." he said, "very VERY much..." his tone was quiet and he added the last part at barely a whisper and with more than a subtle hint in his voice. The combination of the way he said it coupled with his fingers drawing through my chest fur sent shivers up my spine.
"You're a bad Human, Jason... bad... bad Human." I scolded, but my heart wasn't in it.
"Pleeeeeease?" Maybe you'll understand it some day if you don't already, but when your human pulls out the huge little kid eyes (humans call them puppy dog eyes, but you know what I mean) there isn't a hell of a lot you can do to resist em.
"It would go against all that I stand for." I explained helplessly.
"Except doing a big favor for your human, who loves you very much and could really use your backup on something like this." Jason laid it on thick.
"So I have to be Santa, huh?" I asked with a sigh.
"I would love you forever..." Jason noted, "and you might even like it."
"Doubtful." I responded and let out a sigh, "but at least I get out of the apartment."
"You make it sound like a death sentence." he laughed.
"We'll see how things go." I offered, "If people push me too far someone might get killed, and then there WILL BE a death sentence."
Jason laughed at that; he's always had a lot of faith in his Guard Dog.
The following night was the party and, to be honest, I really didn't have a lot of faith in it going well. Jason still wouldn't accept no for an answer and, for whatever insane reason, I didn't put my foot down, so I found myself at the Walter Media Group office quickly ushered past the early-arrivals and into one of the offices.
Everyone at the party was kind enough to let me spend the first part of it locked away in the little room. They were very apologetic about it but they were all of the mindset that the little kids shouldn't have had the chance to catch a glimpse of me before I started acting the part. Truth be told, except for the fact that I couldn't spend the time with Jason, hanging out there was just as good as being at home, so that part went well. Also, the endless amounts of food various employees brought me from the nice spread didn't hurt.
About ten minutes before 'show time' Jason came in with a box. He had a huge grin on his face and looked, in all ways, to be getting a kick out of my raidly increasing discomfort. "Delivery for Mr Daniels." he said.
"Hardy har har." I replied, "Let's just get this over with."
Jason set the box down on a small table while I kicked off my boots and took off my shirt. He rummaged around inside the container taking out everything I'd need-- red shirt, red pants, that damn red hat, black boots, pilgrim-era boot buckles and belt buckle, and all the "ho-ho-holy-shit-I-can't-believe-I'm-doing-this" goodness you'd expect to find on Saint Nick... or, in this case, Saint JD. Heh... Saint JD... probably the only time you'd ever hear something like that.
"Oh... and also these." Jason called my attention to a square, plastic-wrapped bundle of cloth. My pants had just dropped to the ground, providing my tail ample room to tuck between my legs, "Underwear?!?" I could feel my molars grating.
"Boxer briefs, specifically." he stated, opening the plastic.
"You hate me." I noted, "I've done something wrong, you want to torture me, and this is just the next step."
"No... but the suit IS a rental, and there are certain health guidelines that have to be followed." Jason explained, walking over to me.
"I'd rather catch a disease." I noted in no uncertain terms.
"Relax," he rolled his eyes, "These are specially made just for dogs. I'm told they're not half bad."
"Not half bad... right. That means they're ALL bad." reflecting back, I think that was actually pretty witty of me, but Jason really wasn't going to take no for an answer.
"Here..." he knelt down in front of me and grabbed one of my paws. I tensed up, knowing a common next-step once he had my feet but, he thought enough to not tickle me. He looped one side of the underwear around my ankle and then, before I knew it, he lowered it back to the ground. A repeat with the other foot, and he pulled the underwear up to my knees. I rested a paw on his shoulder, "While you're down there..." I offered.
Jason chuckled, and I felt his nose brush up against my balls. I closed my eyes, letting out a content breath-- the little thrill of expectation that runs through you when your Human's face is between your legs really does help chase away a bad mood. All I got was one kiss at the tip of my sheath though before he stood up anyway, pulling the underwear with him. You know how I said I don't like surprises? Well... every now and then I get one that isn't half bad.
"Hey..." I noted with confusion, "these really aren't as horrible as they should be." I reached back to my ass and threaded my tail through a convenient opening in the waistband.
Jason nodded, "I know." he confirmed, "I did some research and found a company that makes all sorts of Dog-friendly products."
"Well, given American Capitalism, I guess it was only a matter of time until someone found profitability in a niche market, right?" Before you start going all 'wha?', I would like to point out that I heard that combination of terms used one night on the news, so no, I don't have a brain for economy-- it was a joke.
"Actually, the company is based out of Germany." Jason explained, Apparently he didn't get the joke either. With little ceremony to the whole affair, Jason helped me get dressed in the fat, puffy red and white suit. I'd like to say that it was as bad as I expected but, despite the fact that I was wearing a big Wintery suit in a 70 degree office building, things went pretty smoothly.
To be honest, I actually had a lot more fun than I was willing to admit. I really don't care that much for kids, but there's something kinda cool about them all not being able to wait to come see me rather than the usual response of them bursting into tears and running the opposite direction. I wasn't about to dwell on the upside with Jason though because I certainly didn't want one of his patented 'I told you so's.
"There weren't even any milk and cookies there." I lamented, setting the keys on the shelf next to the door once we got home.
"I know, JD... I'm sorry..." Jason mock comforted me with a pat on my head, "but at least Santa still gets other treats."
"Does he?" I asked. My ears went up at that.
"Yea..." Jason noted, craning his neck so he could whisper in my ear, "How good is Santa at stuffing stockings?" I yelped when he bit my ear, but the sound wasn't from pain. You ever notice how hard jeans are to take off when you wish they were already on the floor?
"Are you going to be Santa's little helper?" I growled to him with a grin as his jeans came off.
"Oh... I'm sure I could give Santa a hand." he said without missing a beat, his fingers gripping my flesh as it emerged from my sheath, "Santa has a pretty big sack, and he shouldn't have to empty it without help..." My toe claws ground into the carpet as Jason's back pressed against the sofa; he helped me find the mark, and let me tell ya, we did away with any chance of someone singing "Silent Night" that year.
I don't need to get into specifics when I say that Jason was a good little boy that year; Santa had quite a bit to give him.