THE REAL FATHER CHRISTMAS AND HIS ELVES (Several Elementals/m)

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THE REAL FATHER CHRISTMAS AND HIS ELVES


Negotiations Begin



“Ho, ho, ho! What a load of nonsense.” The boys instantly shut up. “You wouldn’t do most of those things you said and couldn’t do the rest.” There was an awkward silence. What Old Father Christmas had said was certainly true.

“Let us cut to the chase: you want to go home, yes?” Four eyes flicked from side to side, then two heads nodded. “Well, what do you say: you want to go home, yes?”

“Yes, Santa.”

“Yeah.”

“I wouldn’t call him Santa, if I were you, guys.”

“Yes, and talk politely.” Elf Bindweed gave Tony an encouraging kick up the bum.

“Ho ho, ho! I’m sure they didn’t mean it, did you boys?”

“N’ no, Santa, I mean Father Christmas, sorry.”

No, Father Christmas; no, Sir.”

“Thank you, Young Man, but don’t call me, ‘Sir’, I’m Old Father Christmas. Ho, ho, ho!” Old Father Christmas seldom got much chance to use his catchphrase out of season. Now that he did, he was determined to make the most of it.”

“Tell me, Young Andrew, do you think you should be on my ‘Naughty’ list?” Even without having to kneel, Andrew would be finding things far from comfortable. Being tightly bound made him feel no better.

“Yes, Father Christmas.” Andrew didn’t look up.

“And you, Young Tony, shall I find your name on my ‘Nice’ list?

Tony looked up but only briefly enough to say, “No, Father Christmas,” before bowing his head again.

“Well, here is what is going to happen. Pay attention.”


Father Christmas Makes an Offer



“Ho, HO, HO!” Father Christmas had worked his way up to full power. “I’m going to give presents to many people; that’s what I do, and they’re all down to you. All you have to do is to change your ways. Yes, I know all those things you said just now was a load of old bollocks.” The Elves and Fairies were aghast. Their Boss never used language like that – even after too many bramble brandies. “But I think I can help you.” He then added a final, “Ho, ho, ho!” just to re-establish his reputation.

“Do you remember those cute little baby outfits you wore?” Andrew and Tony froze. “You know, the ones with the terry towelling nappies – and the pins?” Both boys nodded spasmodically. “And those dummies that held cod-liver oil?” Andrew looked at Tony; Tony looked at Andrew. “Well, it’s either my fine Elves will take you home dressed as babies, . . “ The boys knelt mouths agape. “Or you may dress as you are now while you help in my warehouse until the Big Day.” The boys couldn’t even stammer. I wonder whether that was as a result of magic or just simple shock.

“Very well, I shall have to assume that you choose to toil in the workshop until Christmas Eve.” That loosened their tongues. Even the thought of being taken home soon as cute little babies was better than the alternative. Suddenly the boys became more talkative.

“Ho, ho, ho! What a shame, my Elves and Fairies work so hard, they always appreciate extra help. Never mind. Go and get these fine fellows ready, my good Elves and I shall see them again before they leave.”

Elves Cobweb and Bindweed wielded their present sacks. “Don’t bother with the sacks until they’re ready to go. Ho, ho, ho!” Elf Cobweb shouldered Andrew and carried him off to the Elves’ workshop. Tony wasn’t so lucky: Elf Bindweed simply dragged him by one leg. It was not a quiet journey but at least there were no stairs.

I wonder if either of the boys had remembered what Father Christmas had promised. They probably did but I doubt whether they knew what he meant.


Getting The Babies Ready



Upon their return to the workshop, the Elves seemed to forget about the need to look festive. They attached Andrew and Tony to those hooks in the wall again. That, of course necessitated the reinstatement of the collars and leads.

“OK, boys, Get ‘em off.”

“Yeah, shame, really, I hoped you would want to stay and help out.”

“Oh, yes, they’re not doing it. Maybe they do want to stay after all.” Andrew and Tony looked at one another.

“Oh goody, let’s get them to the warehouse, they can lick the sticky labels for the parcels.”

“Good idea, they taste like a dragon’s armpit. Nobody wants that job.”

“Yes, and it’s about three months ‘til Christmas Eve.” The Elves sounded delighted. The boys took the hint. Soon four hands flew into place in nearly successful attempts to cover two boys’ nakedness.

“Aw shame.”

“Never mind, Elf Cobweb, I’m sure we can make them look like really cute little babies. Then we can take them home.” Andrew and Tony only hoped that they would be able to change before anybody saw them. Surely it would be better than licking a dragon’s armpit all day for the next ninety days or so?

In spite of previous practises, getting the bulky towelling under control was still good value to watch. Having only a single over-sized nappy pin each didn’t exactly help. The Elves waited until both nappies seemed to be secure. “OK, babies, hands on heads.” The babies looked puzzled. “Hands. On. Heads!” Twice told was enough. “Now, jump up and down.” That was another fun section of the video. At least the chains jingled merrily.

Having satisfied themselves that the babies’ clothing was secure, the Elves allowed them to stop. Now it was time to complete the costumes. The boys were given the choice of dressing themselves or having their bottoms smacked. They read the hidden implication and fell upon the bonnets, bootees, and mittens. At least that way, they might be allowed to keep their nappies.

The cute, frilly bonnets were held in place by the usual pink ribbons. Once they were tied with bows to the Elves’ satisfaction, the ribbons tightened worryingly. “Don’t worry, they won’t get any tighter unless you try removing them.” That wasn’t exactly comforting.

“Yes, we wouldn’t want wikkle babies to get cold earsy wearsies, would we?” Most babies only look like that when they need burping.

At least the bootees were dry when the youths sat and pulled them on. That pulled the chains quite tight but they didn’t dare complain. Once more they fastened the booties with bows. “And what did you do that for?” There followed a lot of stammering.

“It’s OK, Elf Bindweed, I think we can let them off.” Two boys sighed with relief. “We’ve got plenty of tinsel here.” Two youths groaned as the glittery stuff twinkled down into the Elves’ hands. It was but the work of a second to tie the two loops on each of the bows together, locking the bows. Then the artistic work started. The tinsel was threaded through the now non-slip loops and pulled half way through. The Elves worked as if their work was coordinated. They bound the decorations all the way up to the boys’ bums, pulling their legs tightly together.

“Festive enough, I think, Elf Bindweed.”

“What, no tinkly bells, Elf Cobweb?”

“A bit too much like overkill, I think, my old friend. - - - After all, we’ve got their arms to tie yet.”

“You have exquisite taste, dear Elf. Just little silver balls, then?”

“Just the little silver balls – or, perhaps gold ones for yours.”

“Such finesse!” So, the decision was made. Two strings of those little metal (Alright, then: metallic-coloured plastic) balls appeared. They were skilfully incorporated with the tinsel, reinforcing the tying. The Elves were pleased with the results. The yobbos were not. Babies usually only look like that when they’ve got wet nappies.

“OK, bend your knees.” The boys tried. That hurt. “It’s alright, just testing. You can relax now.” Having to sit on the floor with their legs straight was not the lads’ idea of relaxation.

“What’s next, Elf Cobweb: dummies or mittens?”

“Oh, I’m sure they’d like to tie their own dummies in place, wouldn’t you boys?” Both boys managed to supress the replies that they were tempted to make. They had already had enough experience of those pacifiers not to want to make things any worse. The even managed to tie them tightly enough to satisfy Elf Bindweed at the first attempt. Then they noticed that they hadn’t even been filled with anything unpleasant that time.

“Handy-pandies.” The boys looked at Elf Cobweb who was carrying those mitten-things again. The Elves slipped the thumbless garments over their guests’ hands. As they tied the ribbons round the boy’s wrists this time, the things contracted. This time there were no soft, woolly mittens forcing their hands into fists. This time their fingers were kept straight and their thumbs in line with them. Elf Cobweb thought he should explain. “That way baby-wabies can hold their own bottles.”

“Cle - e – ver babies.” Yes, it was still possible for Elf Bindweed to scruff Tony’s hair through his bonnet.

The Elves then tied the ribbons on the mittens together. Now the babies had about forty centimetres of ribbon between their wrists like handcuffs. But there were pretty bows in the middles of the strands - and just a single tinkly bell.

“Now the tinkly bells, Elf Cobweb?”

Now the tinkly bells, Elf Bindweed. Hands up, boys.” The yobs raised their arms even though they didn’t want to. The Elves took some rough jute rope and bound very elaborate harnesses round their torsos. Readers know that jute is easier to tie than strings of decorative Christmas bells. They also know what would happen as soon as the Elves were satisfied with their work.

“A quick preview, Elf Bindweed?”

“Why not, Elf Cobweb? Keep ‘em up, kiddies.” Winks of two right eyes and twitches of two left shoulders effected the transformation. Tony stood resplendent in gold bells to match the string of metallic balls. His partner in crime, of course, wore matching silver bells.

“OK, you two, test ‘em out.” Two boys looked worried. They had learnt to look worried when they didn’t understand instructions.

“Just jump up and down, we want to hear them jolly bells ringing.” Now the lads understood. You wouldn’t believe the level of sound that could come from Christmas tree bells. These, of course, were magic bells and were actual metal, although not all that heavy. “OK, you can stop now.” The jumping youths came to a tottering halt. You surely don’t believe that the Elves would let them fall over – do you?

“And arms down.” The winks of two left eyes and the twitching of two right shoulders reinstated the rough ropes.

“What do you think about some Christmas tree-lights now, Elf Bindweed?”

“Pretty coloured ones, Elf Cobweb?”

“You are so common. Young Elf. Jut white ones, would be more tasteful.”

“Yea, but it’s nearly Christmas, init?” It wasn’t, of course.

“You are so right, Elf Bindweed, coloured lights it is.”

“Flashing ones?”

“Of course.” The Elves high fived and produced more rough jute rope simply from thin air. They saw no reason for tying intractable strings of lights when they could transform things easily later. The Youths’ upper arms were attached at three points to the harnesses. That left them still able to touch the heels of their hands together easily. As they were tied, the ropes extended at need. That avoided the inevitable tangling that would be caused otherwise. The final result had the youths’ upper arms immobilised. It also left their forearms free to move even though they were cross-gartered. The Elves thought that it would look jolly if they were allowed at least some movement.

The Elves started the count-down. “Five.”

“Four.”

“Three.”

“Two.”

“One”

A joint, “Light up!” resulted in a complete display of tinkling bells and static lights. After a couple of seconds, the lights started cycling thorough their programmes. It was truly jolly – unless you were Andrew and Tony.

“Oh yes, these Elves are good!” Elf Bindweed has never been known for his restraint (so to speak).

“Ah, but there is one more thing, My Old Friend.”

“And what would that be, Elf Cobweb?”

Elf Cobweb went across to some lockers. “Ta-da!” He displayed two over-sized, pink-edged bibs.

“Excellent, Elf Cobweb, now they won’t spill food down themselves.” Elf Bindweed took one bib from his colleague and the Elves tied a bib round the neck of each baby.

“What do you think, Elf Bindweed?”

“That is very considerate of you, G”ood Elf Cobweb.” What could be worse than wearing bibs with pink trimmings? How about having a “My Little Pony” prominently displayed on them? Andrew wore “Pinky Pie” and Tony wore “Flutershy”.

“Ready to go, Elf Cobweb?”

“Ready to go, my friend.” The elves pulled present sacks over their subjects and fastened them with fancy bows. One they had slung them over their shoulders, it took very few minutes to reach Old Father Christmas’s throne room again.



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Post by tiedinbluetights »

Wow! So glad to have found these Father Christmas stories ! They are an absolute gem to read!
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Thank you. It's good to know someone is still following them.
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THE REAL FATHER CHRISTMAS AND HIS ELVES


Gifts For (Nearly) All



“Ho, ho, ho!, and what do you have for me today, my fine Elves?” As if Father Christmas did not already know perfectly well, but it was part of the ancient tradition.

The Elves emptied their present sacks onto the floor in front of Old Father Christmas. They did, however, allow Tony and Andrew to stand – or totter, rather. It made them feel very uneasy but it was less painful than trying to sit with bent knees.

“Well now, my fine fellows, I am sure you want to know what we have decided.” Well, they did and they didn’t. “Firstly, you are going home as soon as I have explained things to you.” They dared to hope. “But . . .” Old father Christmas paused for effect. The boys swayed gently. They still had no idea that they could not fall over until the Elves were good and ready. The desperate waving of their constrained arms did nothing to maintain their balance. But it did look most comical as the coloured lights flashed at random. It was a good job that the nappies provided certain padded protection. Whenever their hands came together, the large bells on the ribbons between them dropped. Not only that but they usually swung against the fronts of the nappies quite forcibly. For some reason the Elves had tied quite heavy bells onto the boys’ ribbon cuffs.

“What an excellent job you have done, my fine Elves. They look really angelic, don’t they?” Actually, babies don’t usually look like that unless they have filled their nappies. Old Father Christmas scruffed both boys’ hair through their bonnets.

Father Christmas turned his attention to Andrew. He reminded the thug about the room swap that his siblings had made during his home visit. He stressed that there had been no sign that Andrew had ever existed. Then Father Christmas turned to Tony, to whom he said very much the same. He also added a little reminder about Jonno having seen him dressed as a Christmas baby.

“Ho, ho, ho! But I’m sure you are going to be nice to people from now on, aren’t you?” Both boys nodded. They still half thought that, once they were home, they would still be able to behave as they liked. “But just in case, do you remember these people?” The magical video started. All their victims were depicted in their distress. Still the thugs could hardly suppress smirks; they were so close to freedom.

“Do you see how you are dressed?” Of course they did. “Well, every time you pass any of them, they will see you as you are now. Just them; it will be a reminder.” Even if the yobs believed that, they knew that they could still ‘beat the crap out of them’. They wouldn’t laugh then. These two might not, for once, be redeemable. Somehow, Old Father Christmas seemed to know what they were thinking. “Oh, and if you bully any one, not just your previous victims, everyone nearby will see you. Can you imagine two over-sized babies standing in the middle of a crowd? Oh, by the way, babies can’t speak, even without dummies in their mouths. Just imagine saying, “Shut your f***** mouth,” but it coming out as, “Goo-goo da-da gu-g’-g’-g’-g’.” Once more, the surrounding Fairies and Elves were shocked by the Old Man’s language.

“Oh, go on, try it. I’d like to see that.”

“Thank you, Elf Bindweed, but I am sure that they know better than that.”

“Or they will, the first time they try it.” Elf Cobweb was also rather hoping that, for the first time ever, his oppo and he had failed. They could always welcome the boys back to their workshop later.

“Ho, ho, ho. I think that’s enough from me. My good Elves will explain anything else to you.” Old Father Christmas turned to his staff. Oh, and please remove those un-festive collars and leads – not very jolly.”

“Right-oh, boss.” Father Christmas sighed. He no longer had the heart to correct the form of address. These two were his finest Elves and Elf Bindweed meant no disrespect.

“Take the sleigh, Elf Yewtree will drive and you can extend your season’s greetings to your clients.”

The boys were loaded into the sacks and carried to the decorated white van. Someone had re-painted the side so that it no longer read, ‘Santas Slay’. Elf Bindweed’s suggestion to replace it with the Amazon logo had, however, been vetoed. Elf Yewtree climbed into the driver’s seat and the van took off for the boys’ home town. Elf Yewtree took the long way round to give his colleagues enough time to reason with their charges.


A Journey in Santa’s Sleigh



As readers will be aware, the present sacks are often soundproof. The Elves thought that tipping the boys out onto the floor of the van would make their job easier. As they tumbled out, the early presents noticed that the collars and chain leads had gone. Of course they had, they had been replaced with bows holding gift labels reading, “A Gift from Santa”. The Elves knew that he was never going to see them.

“Quiet, do you think, Elf Bindweed?”

“Oh, I think so, those bells are a bit too jolly for my liking. And what about those lights?”

“Indeed, they are a little distracting.” With winks of their left eyes and twitches of their right shoulders, the Elves restored calm. Their two passengers lay tightly bound with interlocking jute ropes. They dug in just as unpleasantly as the Christmas decorations had. That left the babies in their nappies, bonnets, dummies and mittens. They got the distinct impression that trying to speak would be inadvised. The Elves pulled their charges around until they were sitting back-to-back. Elf Cobweb took a thick red and black ribbon from a side-box. He wrapped it twice round the boys’ waists and tied it with an elaborate bow near their hips. Once tied, the ribbon tightened unpleasantly, pulling the passengers very close together. Elf Bindweed reinforced the effect round their torsos and biceps. There followed a discussion about the need to tie the yobbos’ necks together. Their only contribution to the discussion was to shake their heads desperately. It was decided not to do so.

“Now be so kind as to listen, my good young fellows,” started Elf Bindweed. Well, something like that in any case.*

Elf Cobweb though he should take over. He reinforced what his boss had told the boys already. Needless to say, his warning was accompanied by the usual video display. The thugs still had half an idea that they might get away with bullying.

“I hope you never bully your siblings.” The yobbos thought they had found the snag in their thinking. “Well, if you ever have, . . .” Their hearts sank as they watched the sub-conscious video. Of course, because of the nature of such shows, they were customised for each of the yobbos.



*”Nah listen up y’ li’w diddle-os”



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THE REAL FATHER CHRISTMAS AND HIS ELVES


Interlude – The “Videos”
1) Andrew



Andrew would normally revel in the thoughts of what he did to his siblings, he did not do so now. He saw his little sister with jam in her hair when she was only three. He saw her crying when she found one of her “My Little Ponies” that he had turned into a punk. He saw that horrible incident on her birthday when he set fire to her poster of that K-Pop band. The scenes could have gone on but there was worse to come.

There was that night when both his parents had to leave in a hurry because their only granny was ill. His little sister was already staying with a friend but Andrew was the default babysitter for his brother. He enjoyed it at the time but he was not so sure now.

He saw his parents disappearing and his little brother, Roger, starting to celebrate noisily. If it wasn’t enough that he’d have to stand Lizzy up, now he had to listen to the little scab celebrating. That just wasn’t going to happen. Readers will think that this account is somewhat biased. I am sure they will understand that that is because the images came from Andrew’s own memory. So, on with the account.

Andrew had a thing for belts. He had thick belts, thin belts, leather belts, woven belts and even judo belts. That night, his collection was going to come into its own. He just let Roger jump up and down and make all sorts of plans while he went to his bedroom. He knew that Roger would soon calm down and retreat to his favourite place: the fridge.

The time came and the ravening beast made it to the fridge. He didn’t even notice the sports bag on the floor by the kitchen table. Andrew waited until his little brother was totally distracted by planning a ‘little snack’ as he called it. He quickly slipped a hefty leather belt over Roger’s head and buckled it tightly, trapping his arms. Before he really knew what was going on, Roger was licking the kitchen floor tiles. As he sat on his back, Andrew managed to tighten the belt by another notch. He even managed to tidy the end of the belt through the attached loop.

With a few well-chosen words, Andrew read Roger his fortune. There was no way he was going to stand Lizzy up just because he had to baby-sit the little squit. Roger questioned his brother’s legitimacy. Andrew took exception to that and dragged Roger across to the sports bag. He reached into the bag and located one of those woven military belts. He couldn’t possibly miss his target; it was so wide open most of the time. The belt went into Roger’s vituperative gob. Roger clamped down. That was good; it kept it in place as Andrew made the necessary adjustments. Before Roger could expel the thing, Andrew had located the hooks into the appropriate holes. It wouldn’t silence the greedy little tic but that didn’t really matter. Once he had been dragged down the garden and locked in the shed, Lizzy wouldn’t hear him. Nor would any of the neighbours. There were advantages to living on a fairly remote property. Maybe he could even find something else to silence the row better later.

The two thin leather belts were the next items taken from the black bag. Andrew rose, turned round and quickly sat down again. He grabbed Roger’s lower legs. Before Roger could even figure out what was about to happen, Andrew had both legs in one arm. The next job wasn’t exactly easy (for Andrew, that is). Andrew managed to wrap one of the belts twice round Roger’s legs. Once buckled it wasn’t that tight but it would hold until they had reached the shed. Andrew had an idea what to do about that once they were there. The second belt was fastened in a similar manner just below Roger’s knees. That made it even more difficult for Roger to free his ankles. Andrew took out his phone and took a video of his brother trying to get free. His hands were useless but did make him look very comical as he floundered like a stranded seal.

The next ‘belt’ out of the bag was an old pyjama cord. Andrew only needed to work on one wrist at a time. A clove hitch soon secured it and a couple of granny-knots secured it. Ok, so it would hurt the little bugger but so what? Andrew had threaded the free end of the cord between Roger’s back and the thick belt. It took quite some effort on the binder’s part but it was worth it. Once it had been accomplished, Roger was stuffed. He couldn’t resist as his bound wrist was pulled upwards to the belt where Andrew could tie it off. Some quick persuasion courtesy of a back-hammer ensured Roger’s submission. Andrew soon had his other wrist secured next to the first one. There was even enough cord left to allow Andrew to bind his wrists together.

Andrew stood back and admired his work. “I’m just going to get a t-shirt for you.”

“Oaa’ fwah?”

“Oh, you’ll see. Don’t go anywhere now.” With that, Andrew looped a judo belt between his victim’s ankles. He pulled it through until the ends met. Although Roger tried to resist, he was ‘prevailed upon’ to bend his knees. Andrew knelt on his insteps to keep his heels up against his bum. After that, it was quite easy to feed the ends of the belt over his forearms and under his armpits. Roger might have been persuaded to cooperate but the stream of ineffective invective continued. Andrew retrieved the ends of the belt and pulled mightily. Roger’s invective became no more comprehensible as his ankles were pulled upwards. Judo belts are, fortunately for Andrew, quite long and there was lots of unused fabric. Andrew tied a reef knot behind his brother’s neck. Once again, he pulled hard until he stared to believe that Roger was genuinely in pain. The sobbing might have convinced him as well. A final reef knot kept Roger pulled into an arc. “Back soon.” Andrew departed for the boys’ bedroom.

Andrew located one of Roger’s t-shirts: his favourite “Terminator” one and returned to the kitchen. He did not start tearing it apart until Roger could see it. Andrew reckoned his villainous laugh was worthy of any screen nasty. That seemed to break Roger’s will completely and he stopped shouting in favour of crying hard. Andrew spun the rag between his hands and tied it tightly round his brother’s eyes. There was no real need to do so but Andrew was enjoying himself.

“OK, loser?” Roger was obviously not so. “Don’t say I don’t do anything for you.” Having kept his brother in place by hogtying him, it was no longer convenient. Andrew removed the judo belt completely and re-fastened it round Roger’s waist. That left plenty of free fabric for Andrew to grab hold of if he needed to. He led his brother towards the shed.

“OK, jump, little froggy, jump.” Andrew impelled his bound sibling in the desired (by Andrew) direction. The frightening journey took forever for the younger boy. Andrew grabbed him by inserting the fingers of his right hand between the judo belt and his back. So that Roger was less likely to fall, Andrew also grabbed the pyjama cord. At least Roger’s crying had moderated by the time they had reached their destination. The poor kid knew what would happen to him if he dared to complain to their parents. Andrew had told him many times and he had no reason to doubt any of the things he had heard.

The shed was of a size concomitant with the size of the property and housed many facilities. Andrew thought he could use certain of them just as he had done before. Roger already knew what was likely to happen. He was not to be disappointed.

There was an old gas cage which, now that the mains had been laid, was no longer needed. It was empty, secure and nearly as tall as Roger. Andrew opened the door and shoved Roger in so that he was sitting against the rear wall. There were just a few more precautions to take before Lizzy was due. A hefty cable tie tightened up the belt round Roger’s ankles. With his knees being fastened, that wasn’t really necessary but Andrew didn’t see it that way. The other consideration was that bloody noise. He wasn’t sure but Andrew thought he knew what to do. He found some old left-over duct tape. There was plenty of it. Poor Roger’s jaws were already forced wide open and they were soon shrouded in black tape. There was plenty left and Andrew thought it would be a shame to waste it. By the time it ran out, all that was visible above Roger’s chin was a tuft of hair on his crown. Andrew thought he would goad his little brother about how much it would hurt when he removed it.

“OK, tuck your feet in.” Andrew pushed Roger’s feet towards his bum and closed the door. The old padlock was still there, complete with key and hooked into the mesh of the cage. Andrew slipped the bolt closed, slipped the padlock into place, locked it and took the key with him. He whistled contentedly as he headed for his house to get ready to receive his girlfriend.


Back to the Sleigh



“Well, you are a heroic piece of s***, aren’t you? How old was he when you did that to him?”

“Language, Elf Bindweed.” It was just like hearing the Boss berating him. And just about as effective. “However, I tend to agree.” Roger was more than four years younger than the sturdy Andrew. Not only that, at eleven-years-old, he was only about 30 kilos ringing wet.

The Elves spent a while explaining things to both of the bullies. Things such as how they would be able to tell whether everything had been a bad dream or not. Once again, there was a glimmer of hope. Surely, their siblings would not be able to see them dressed as outsized babies? Surely they would be allowed to change before they got home. They had obviously not met the Elves before.



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Post by tiedinbluetights »

Great continuation! Brought back (mostly good) memories of when I was a kid when I managed to reach yellow belt (only) in judo, before giving up the sport shortly after; I had kept both my white and yellow belts for a few years, but never did anything more interesting than just tie my own ankles together with them!
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They are such a useful length, aren't they?
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Sorry, folks, the last episode and the next one sort of ran away with themselves.
Never mind, back to the usual nonsense after Tony's story.
Here's Tony's story.
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Post by Xtc »

THE REAL FATHER CHRISTMAS AND HIS ELVES


Interlude – The “Videos”
2) Tony



Almost the worst thing Jonno could do was to arrive home late when his mum was on night-shift. Not only would his mum ground him but . . . (Let your author explain the alternatives before returning to the video.)

Unlike Andrew, Tony didn’t have extensive premises but he was quite inventive. Poor Jonno was often late home and his mother was simply not interested in why. She was usually too busy earning enough money as a carer to keep her family fed. Tony was also a follower who found out that the best way to avoid being bullied was to bully.

Being less than a year younger than Tony, Jonno was nearly as tall as he was already. He was slim rather than skinny with very little body fat, which left him with good muscular definition. If it wasn’t for his thuggish mates, Tony would have very little advantage over him physically. However . . .

On good days, Jonno would get out of school on time and walk home with his mates. There was safety in numbers. The boys would exaggerate their success with girls and their prowess on the football field. They would also diss each other’s teams. There was little evidence for what was said and there was much kicking each other up the backside. Life was good.

Jonno could get home on time, his mum would give him his tea and he could get his homework done. That wasn’t because he was a goody-goody; it was a case of self-preservation. He had an entire battery of teachers who would always detain him for a missed homework. Then he would be late home.

There were days, however, when things didn’t go smoothly.at all. If he was late and on his own, the local thugs, Andrew and his gang, would ambush him. His best hope was that they had already found another victim. He would try to avoid them but they seemed to manage to get him at least once a week. He always had hardly any cash to hand over and he would plead for mercy to no avail. Jonno would be dragged out of the public gaze until he was near a post. Any post would do: a lamp post, a gate post, a sign post, or even a handy tree. After that, his humiliation was almost ritualistic.

He would usually be made to strip down to his boxers - if he was lucky. Then he would be laid face down with one foot either side of the post. One of his shoe-laces would be used to tie his big toes. On a good day, they would not be forced close together. That left another lace to cuff his ankles; such thin cords hurt! He thought of trying slip-ons but that would have contravened school uniform requirements. That would have cost him another detention. He would be forced to keel and his hands would be forced up and behind the post. With a thin post, his hands could be crossed behind it before being bound with his school tie. With a thick post, his hands would be bound separately but his hands would not be able to touch. Finding a comfortable position was always impossible. He had stopped wearing a belt some time ago.

Before departing, the thugs would distribute Jonno’s clothing around any nearby shrubbery. If they were lucky, there would be a handy puddle or two for his clothes as well. That would also, of course, provide some mud with which to adorn their victim. Jonno no longer tried to hold back his tears: tears of pain but, even worse, tears of shame.

The thugs never tied him up well enough to hold him for more than about half an hour. That, however, was long enough to ensure that his mother went ballistic. All the while, of course, Tony was at home like a good little boy. Of course his mother could leave him in charge of her inconsiderate little sod of a younger son.

The video that started showed excerpts from one of the worst few days of Jonno’s life. Jonno arrived home two hours late, dirty, wet and distraught. Even worse, it was a Friday and their mother had already left for a two-night sleep in. He knew how Tony would treat him; it had happened so often before.

“And where have you been?”

“As if you didn’t know.”

“Shouldn’t play with those rough kids.” That stated Jonno crying again. He ran to the bedroom and stripped off the manky clothes before showering. He dried himself approximately, put on some clean boxers, and headed for the fridge. Jonno knew that his brother would not make him starve but also that he wouldn’t make things easy.

“Who told you that you could eat?”

“Oh, come on, Tony, please.”

“Ask nicely.”

Jonno knew the routine, no one would see them so he knelt and begged to be allowed to eat. He thought he might as well beg to be allowed to do his homework while he was down there. Tony was smug but, according to himself, magnanimous. “What are you?”

Jonno had no pride left. “I am a worthless slave - Master.” The routine started.

“And how does a slave dress?”

“In the clothes his Master has been kind enough to make for him.” Jonno knew that, if he didn’t get his speech right, he wouldn’t even be allowed that ‘privilege’.

“Go and get it. You know where it is.”

“Please, Tony - I mean please, Master . . .”

“OK, then willy waving for the weekend it is then.” Tony had made him stay in his birthday suit in the past. “If I have to stay in to baby sit my worthless little brother, he is going to do what he is told. Unless he wants his little mates to see those photos.” Tony stressed the word ‘those’ and Jonno knew exactly which ones he meant.

At least no one was likely to see him and, if he did as he was told, Tony might not tell Andrew on him. He made off slowly to the bag in the bottom of Tony’s wardrobe. He withdrew his slave loincloth and buckled it round his waist before removing his boxers. Tony hadn’t needed much skill to make the thing and it did little to cover Jonno’s requirements. He had cut two rectangles from an old hessian sack. Then he glued hems along one of the short sides of each with PVA. The resultant hems were wide enough to thread an old belt through them. The rectangles were about 30 centimetres wide but quite a bit longer, especially the one at the back. The roughly cut edges had not been hemmed. Once the thing was in place, Jonno looked like a poor film maker’s idea of a Native American. It did not give him any feeling of security. It also demonstrated some rather humiliating tan-lines at that time of year.

Jonno had been so demoralised over so long that he knew the routine. He might just as well take some other things with him when he returned to the kitchen. He even knelt once he had got there. It was preferable to having anyone see those photos. It was also preferable to having Andrew have a ‘special’ word with him on his way home one day.

Jonno repeated his plea to be allowed to eat and to be allowed to complete his homework afterwards.
“You may eat. I shall decide about the homework later. Usual conditions.” At least Tony had not decreed any ‘special conditions’. Jonno had to kneel on the kitchen floor and eat the cold food out of a bowl with his fingers. He was not allowed the use of the microwave. At lest he was not made to rest the bowl on the floor and eat like a dog.

Jonno ate the cold macaroni cheese and asked if he could have something to drink. He was allowed to drink straight from the kitchen tap. He then had to kneel again before he was allowed to beg to be allowed to do his homework. His master graciously allowed him to do so. That would give him uninterrupted use of his house-slave for the rest of the available time.

Jonno only had maths and that was a ‘MyMaths’ assessment to be submitted to his account. He wished he had more homework, but even that was made worse than it needed to be. He set up the laptop on the coffee table and knelt by it facing away from the television. Then it dawned on Tony that he wouldn’t need to write. Jonno had brought a soft, cotton rope from the bedroom. He knew it would be used on him eventually. It was just a case of how difficult Tony would make things for him.

“OK, slave, hands out.” Jonno held his hands up and Tony carefully crafted rope cuffs without meeting any resistance. His little brother would be able to use his keyboard as long as his hands weren’t too close. He would also be able to slip his hands behind him later on.

“Come om, Tony, that’s too tight!” Jonno instantly realised his mistake. With no school tomorrow he could look forward to being gagged painfully. (If there was school, he would have his boxers stuffed into his mouth and taped in place. Didn’t leave marks!) Even with his hands tied in front of him, he wouldn’t be able to remove it without Tony seeing.

A disconsolate Jonno returned to Tony’s supplies and found a bit of old broomstick and a hank of paracord. His lip trembled as he examined the teeth marks in the stick. Jonno knelt with his back to his brother who was sat at is ease on the sofa. He bit down on the stick. Tony fed a loop of paracord round the ends of the stick and behind Jonno’s neck. He lodged it into two groves, pulling it against his brother’s cheeks. A few bindings round the cord, just behind the stick, pulled the device tight. Jonno just about managed to hold it together but that was going to hurt. At least his tormentor hadn’t used that wet leather bootlace that time.

“Get me a Coke, slave. You may walk.” Jonno rose, went to the fridge and collected a cold can and he knelt before presenting it to Tony. He couldn’t help thinking that he couldn’t even spit in it on the way. “Homework. Now.” Tony settled down to watch a video and Jonno wondered how long he could pad his task out. After about twenty minutes, Tony realised that he was pretending that he had to read the tutorial stuff. Tony was good at maths and he was obviously swinging the lead. “You’ve got fifteen minutes to get that assessment done. After that it’s hands behind you.”

Jonno could see the clock on the living room wall. He made sure that he got the assessment completed and registered only just in time. He scored 80%, which would satisfy his teacher. Then he waited for his ‘Master’ to notice.

“OK, get to the lav. Nearly Time for bed.” It was only about 8 o’clock but there was worse to come. Bound as he was, Jonno managed to steer his rudimentary clothing clear of his golden stream. The next process, however, needed a different procedure. Jonno stepped through his cuffs, slipped them under his bum and lifted his breech cloth clear. Then he sat. He could just about manage to clean himself afterwards before he heard his brother calling.

“Slaaave!! Don’t bother getting your hands in front of you; you won’t have time for a wank.” To be honest, that was a long way from the top of the list of Jonno’s intentions. But so was waiting on his brother hand and foot before being tied up for the night. He left the loo and knelt in front of his brother who had bothered to get something he needed.

“Just so you won’t slip your hands in front again. Turn around.” Jonno was used to having to work with his hands behind him. He had got quite good at it; but he had not learned to enjoy it! Tony had a supple leather belt in which he had already made Jonno punch a series of ‘useful’ holes. He wrapped it once round Jonno’s right arm just above his elbow. After passing it across his back, Tony wrapped more of the belt around his brother’s left arm. He then pulled the ends of the belt towards one another. Jonno protested as his elbows were drawn towards one another. Tony engaged the buckle and pulled the device a little tighter. That wasn’t going to slip anywhere.

Tony sat and demanded another Coke. Jonno had got used to doing that long ago. Het managed to open the fridge, withdraw a can, and close the fridge again. He returned to where his brother was sitting where he had to kneel. Tony demanded that he raise his hands as high as possible to save his brother too much trouble. Jonno was left kneeling but at least he was facing the TV. Tony gulped the cola in two, belched, and demanded that Jonno dump the can in the waste bin. Getting an ice cream from the freezer wasn’t too easy but Jonno’s experience came in handy. Predictably, Jonno had to dump the wrapping and the stick.

After not much more than half an hour more, Tony had satisfied his need to humiliate his little brother. He demanded that Jonno produce his sleep mask. Jonno hated that thing. He delved into Tony’s supplies once more. Trying not to remove anything else that would need replacing, he soon found it. He was getting used to locating things that he couldn’t see properly by feel. He also made sure that he would not be sent back for the Sellotape afterwards.

Tony took the old trouser leg (Sleep mask), slipped it onto Jonno’s head and rammed it into place. Tony no longer justified his need to Sellotape the thing in place. He simply wrapped the transparent tape round where his brother’s eyes were several times. (Just above where he could see his flattened nose.) That was supposed to stop Jonnno working the charcoal grey tube off. Even if he had done so, Jonno knew that he would suffer for it.

“OK, slave, on your feet.” At least it looked like Jonno was going to be allowed to walk that evening and not hop. Tony guided his brother onto his bunk and threw him, face down, onto it. He removed the tormenting belt from round his elbows and told him to get his hands in front of him. It wasn’t easy but Jonno was getting adept at it and soon sat, hands up, on the edge of his bed.”

“What a good slave.” Tony gave Jonno a condescending pat on the cheek. “OK, sit back. Get your feet up.” Jonno reached up to the slats of the top bunk and slid backwards. That allowed him to lift his heels up onto the mattress and pull them towards his bum. It was the usual routine. He even knew how far apart to position his feet.

Tony used the spare rope that Jonno knew was going to be needed to cuff his ankles. They were left about a foot apart. “Just so you can hobble a bit in the morning.” There was even quite a length of free rope available attached to each ankle. Tony had got that down to a fine art. He then grabbed his brother’s wrists and swivelled him round to be lying on his back. Jonno reached for the head of his bunk. Tony used the belt to pull Jonno’s wrist-cuffs towards one of the spindles none too tightly. Then he diverted his attentions to Jonno’s feet. When he had finished, the connecting strands were stretched between two spindles of the footboard. Jonno could not quite reach the headboard. Tony removed the temporary arrangement with the belt ad re-used it immediately.

Tony threaded a sort of lark’s head round Jonno’s wrist cuffs. That left just about enough free leather to enable Tony to buckle the strap round a headboard spindle. The friction would not allow Jonno to work the buckle round to his fingers. He was almost looking forward to being tied up when he was taller and could free himself. He was that demoralised that he knew he was likely still to be treated like s*** even then.

Jonno knew that he was unlikely to be disturbed until his shitbag of a brother wanted to retire. He was stretched not too tightly, covered, or so he hoped with a scrap of sackcloth. He certainly could not adjust it, even if he could see it. Being a healthy adolescent, he had, on occasions, involuntarily demonstrated the fact to his brother. That was one of ‘those’ photos. The front of his loincloth concealed nothing.

It was going to be a long night. After that, Jonno would have to beg to be allowed to launder his school uniform. That, and he would have to carry out any other domestic tasks that his brother had decreed. When their mother returned, Tony would then take all the credit.



Footnote:
Your author is often asked why Jonno didn’t tell anyone about his treatment. People who ask such questions have obviously never been victims of bullying. That’s the way bullying works.



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THE REAL FATHER CHRISTMAS AND HIS ELVES


Back to the Sleigh Again



The Elves had watched Tony as his misdemeanours were relayed from his memory. He could not even lie about them. The Elves watched him become even more mortified with each scene. They also made themselves some mental notes about certain friends of Jonno’s brother. They decided to consult Father Christmas before going freelance.

Unlike Andrew, Tony believed there was no hope of escaping the consequences of his actions. His breathing was heavy and he was in danger of needing that nappy. Andrew was still clutching at straws.

“OK, you two scumbags, we know all about the other kids you’ve bullied.”

“Yeah, and we know that you know you can’t lie to us about them.”

“Our Boss has already explained how they will see you from now on.”

“Oh, and Blondie, not long to wait now until you find out whether that is true.”

“Right then, Elf Bindweed, I think we can leave that there until we land, don’t you?

“Most certainly, Elf Cobweb, but there is that matter of the homeless person.”

“Ah yes, shall we ask if our passengers have any ideas?”

“Nah, Elf Cobweb, bullies don’t have any useful ideas.”

“You are so right, Elf Bindweed. Better tell ‘em instead.”

“After you, Elf cobweb, you are so much more articulate than me.”

“But you are so much more – er- persuasive than I am, my friend.”

“That is so true but I think we can leave the violence for later in case it is needed.” Both the Elves grinned. Neither of the yobbos did.

“It’s like this: Blondie . . .” Andrew did his best to look as though he was listening intently. “. . . You get good pocket money, don’t you?” Andrew didn’t dare lie all the while Elf Bindweed was getting ready to be persuasive. He nodded tentatively. “Enough to be able to afford to drop a couple of quid in his hat every time you pass?” Certainly, that was true but Andrew was still clutching at straws. He nodded again.

Tony knew he didn’t have the same level of resources. He dreaded having the same demands made on him. Of course, the Elves were aware of the situation. They also knew some other surprising things. “You, Curley, you know that old sleeping bag you’ve got stowed away?” Tony nodded. “Good bit of kit, that. You going to use it again now that you’ve left Scouts?” That took Tony aback’ he didn’t like giving whatever he did have away even if it was redundant. “We know someone who could use that.” In truth, Tony only signed up for the Scouts to go on the annual camp and didn’t get on with it. He was unlikely to need a three-season bag again.

“Well, what do you say? That one the dosser uses was ruined by certain thugs the other day.” Tony saw no way out; he was partly responsible. “Well?” Tony nodded; he was committed.

“Please, Elf Bindweed, don’t refer to the homeless as ‘dossers’ it is so undignified”.

“I suppose you are right, old friend. I don’t suppose that I should call the dosser’s dog a rat on a piece of string either?” The Elves laughed.

“Oh, and Curley, chuck the dog a tin of dog food every week or so, won’t you?” Tony was determined to do so whenever he could afford it.

By now, the floor of Santa’s Sleigh was becoming less than comfortable. The rough ropes were irritating. They dug in unpleasantly, and the boys really wanted to be able to move.

Then there came a call from the driver: “Are our young friends ready now, my good Elves?”

“Oh, I think our passengers are as ready as they are likely to be.”

“Yup, take ‘em home; we can always call back later if needs be.”


Tony Comes Home



Elf Yewtree hung a hard left and put his foot down. “Which one first?”

“Oh, I think my one.” Tony wasn’t sure about that statement as the sleigh pulled up by the balcony of his flat. The Elves untied the bands binding the yobbos together and the ropes suddenly reverted to type. There was a merry jingling as soon as Andrew and Tony could move.

“In the present sacks, do you think, Elf Cobweb?”

“Nah, it’s not Christmas Eve yet. Lets’ just dump him.” Tony was even less sure about that. Elf Bindweed lifted the dark-haired bully over his shoulder and Elf Bindweed opened the side door. “Nah, don’t strugguw, it’s a long way down if I drop you.” No longer being at HQ(NP) the nappy came into its own. Just one more indignity that Tony was not going to be spared. Of course, Tony would not have been allowed to fall but even Andrew took that warning to heart.

Elf Bindweed magicked himself and Tony into the bedroom he shared with Jonno. He propped him up against a wall and slipped something under Jonno’s pillow. With a wink of Elf Bindweed’s right eye and a twitch of his left shoulder, a bleary Jonno woke up. He saw his brother dressed like a baby and elaborately decorated like a Christmas tree. He’d had some weird dreams in the past but this one beat the lot. Oh, if only it was true! A wink and a shrug sent him back to sleep. Elf Bindweed made sure that Tony knew that his brother had seen him. Then he lifted Tony into the top bunk. For some reason, he too went almost immediately to sleep.

Elf Bindweed climbed back into the sleigh and Elf Yewtree made a rapid getaway. If anyone had seen them, all they would have seen was a traditional sleigh and its reindeer. All they would have heard was the tinkling of sleighbells. And besides, which grown up would believe that their kiddies had seen Santa’s Sleigh? After all, it was only September.


Andrew Returns



Elf Yewtree wasn’t used to being a taxi driver out of season and he wanted to get home. It was only a short distance to Andrew’s luxurious home. Even so, the Sleigh approached with a handbrake turn that left the sleigh inside Andrew’s bedroom.

Elf Cobweb collected his burden and carried him out of the wite van. Andrew noticed that his bed was still there and there was no sign of his sister’s things. Of course things were as they should be, he dared to hope once more. Even if Roger did see him in his nappy, he had no proof. And in any case, he could always beat the crap out of him if he did say anything. Andrew was somewhat comforted as he dropped off to sleep. Before he left, Elf Cobweb left something under his pillow and under his siblings’ pillows too. He hoped that Elf Yewtree would not spare the reindeer on the way back to HQ(NP).

The sleigh pulled away and Elf Yewtree took the quick way home.

On the way, Elf Cobweb and Elf Bindweed placed their bets. It was a matter of how likely it was that they would have to pay the boys a visit before Christmas. There was a bottle of vintage plum brandy on the outcome.


A Fine September Morning (or Two)



Morning came and Andrew woke. That must have been some dream. It WAS a dream, wasn’t it? He took a wary look under the duvet. Yes!!! OK, he might have been naked but there wasn’t a nappy or a string of lights in sight. He leapt out of the top bunk, kicking Roger on the way.

Roger was used to it and hardly reacted as Andrew searched for a pair of boxers. Andrew thought he had wasted a perfectly good kick and returned for another. That’s when he noticed the gift tag round his neck. He froze. Roger grumpily rubbed his eyes and then opened his mouth. “What the. . . .?” Have you any idea how long five seconds is? That’s how long it took before Roger started laughing uncontrollably. Andrew lost it and went for his little brother. Roger ducked and their little sister came in wondering what all the fuss was about. With two of the little demons pointing at him and laughing, Andrew suddenly got the idea. They could obviously see his baby clothes.

When his sister showed him the photo that she had found under her pillow, he knew all was lost. His sister loved her photograph of her big brother in his nappy and bonnet set. She liked it so much, she was going to show it to all her friends. Roger asked where she had found it and checked under his own pillow. His version featured two babies bound back-to-back sucking on two enormous dummies. His mates were going to wet themselves when they saw it. Andrew went into damage limitation mode. He could always break his promises once it was safe to do so – couldn’t he? All he had to do was get hold of those photos first. He really didn’t understand how magic works.

Certainly, he gave to the homeless man regularly from then on. He gradually got used to all that little vermin pointing at him and laughing. He couldn’t help remembering what Old Father Christmas had told him. He only hoped that he hadn’t forgotten any of his past victims. His first few weeks back home were wretched but he just had to suck it up. His sweet little sister kept asking him whether he believed in Father Christmas. How did she know? Whenever he was in danger of getting out of line, Roger would suck his thumb noisily. It was enough of a hint; Andrew would just have to ride it out. Certainly, nobody cowered away from him as he passed them any more.


Meanwhile Back at the Flats



Tony woke, checked the state of himself, and exhaled deeply. No nappy, no mittens, no bootees, no bonnet, no bib, and no wretched dummy. He was even wearing his preferred black boxers. He thought it was just a bad dream until he found the “A Present from Santa” gift tag. He thought he would just pretend to be asleep until Jonno was out of the way. He didn’t have long to wait. Jonno grabbed some briefs, departed and headed for the shower room. At least he had got that far without being waylaid by Tony. He locked the door and thought he would take his time.

With his little brother making an unholy row in the shower, Tony thought it was safe to get down. He gave himself a careful once-over in the wardrobe mirror and removed the gift tag. Then he pulled on a pair of jogging bottoms and a t-shirt, and headed for the fridge. Eventually, he heard the bedroom door slam followed after a couple of minutes by a shriek.

Jonno was an annoying little tick: not only did he always do his homework but he also made his bed! That’s when he found the photo. He took it to where he knew his brother would be. Then there was another shriek. Tony knew all was lost. He knew he had to hand over that nearly new sleeping bag. He did that the next day. The homeless person’s faded brown dog had not eaten so well for a long time.



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THE REAL FATHER CHRISTMAS AND HIS ELVES


Back at HQ(NP)



The sleigh landed and all three Elves made straight for the Rec. Room. Fairy Snowflake handed Baby Snowdrop to Elf Bindweed. She said that his nappy needed changing. Such times made Elf Bindweed wish that the time scale of elementals wasn’t so extended. Never mind; service in the Rec. Room was excellent. It had to be.

As readers know, some guests stay at HQ(NP) for a while before they are ready to be taken home. Some, of course, have to toil in the workshop but others (?the lucky ones?) have other duties. Elf Yewtree pulled rank and demanded service before Elf Cobweb could open his mouth. The waiter hobbled over. He couldn’t ask the Elves what they wanted but they were aware of that. They were also aware that the “steward” had to pay very close attention. If he got the order wrong, he might be sent to the workshop until at least Christmas Eve. If he did the steward’s job well, he MIGHT be allowed back home before.

He was a guest of Old Father Christmas because of the way he treated waiters back at home. He never tipped them and always complained to the management. He would send food back on any pretence. He even got one of the bar-staff at Wetherspoons sacked unjustly. The manager wouldn’t listen, so one of the Elves went freelance and dealt with him. For some reason all of his staff quit on him and got better paid jobs within a week. There are many forms of magic available to Father Christmas’s staff.

It had taken a few days to train the difficult customer but his hosts had time, lots of time. He had been considered well enough trained to serve in the Rec. Room and listened attentively. Since qualifying, he had been allowed longer hobbles and lighter chains. He stood with his tray presented in front of him. The way his globular mittens were fastened to the edges of it left him little choice. He could have lowered it minimally but the chains attaching it to his collar limited the scope for that. He listened and hobbled back to the bar. Once there, his gag was deflated by a remote signal from the barman. Of course, once the order had been delivered, the gag inflated again.

The stewards’ equipment had taken much ingenuity and was subject to on-going modifications. The uniform was basic but the mask was very high-tech indeed. The collar looked just like a white wing-collar with a spiky wreath of holly on the bottom. It was made of rigid, heavy gauge plastic and allowed very little head movement. Not only that, if the tray dropped by even a little, the “holly” spikes dug in painfully. The uniform, other than the bow-tie was a simple apron – that was it. It was knee length and green with a cheery reindeer printed onto it. Needless to say, it was a bit draughty in the rear.

The mask was one of the Elves’ finest creations. It enclosed the stewards’ head completely and made him look like a traditional grinning Elf. The pointy ears even waggled whenever he spoke, not that that happened all that often. Inside the mask was an inflatable bit. Once deflated, the wearer could just about speak coherently to deliver orders. Once it was inflated, though, speech was impossible. It was white and showed in the open grin of the mask. Elf Bindweed’s contribution was the goofy teeth that had been printed onto it.

The Steward knelt and presented the tray to Elf Yewtree, as the Senior Elf present. He then handed over the drinks to his table companions as they discussed the fate of the yobbos. They decided that they should keep an eye on things and recall them if they couldn’t reform. After further discussion, they decided that a recall on Christmas Eve might be in order. That was agreed and Elf Yewtree ordered a further round of dandelion wines. The steward had to leave the bottle. The convivial atmosphere prevailed until it was time to report to the Boss.


Reporting to The Boss



Elves Cobweb and Bindweed reported to the Throne Room and Elf Yewtree ordered “just one more.”

“Ho, ho, ho, my fine Elves, and what do have to report?” The Elves laid out their accounts and their subsequent decisions. “Ho, ho . . . Oh, bugger all this booming.” Father Christmas relaxed in the company of his Elves and spoke normally. Why not; there were no humans present? “What a fine job. You are right, my good Elves, we’ll monitor their progress as long as they are good boys. You never know I might even have presents for good boys at Christmas.” Old Father Christmas just couldn’t resist one final, “Ho, ho, ho.” He then added, “Do you reckon there will be another glass left in Elf Yewtree’s bottle?” Silly question but they could always order a fresh one. Two Elves and Old Father Christmas walked cheerfully together to the Rec. Room.

“Oh, and please don’t write, ‘A Gift from Santa’ on the gift tags.”

“Oarr, Guvnor!”

More dandelion wine was called for and the party returned to full-swing.



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And there we shall leave things until next Yule

Will Tony and Andrew change their ways?

Will Old Father Chrismas have a word with the rest of their gang ?

Will the dog become dangerously obese?

Remember: the Elves are always on the lookout!
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A Message from Xtc
OK,
Before I get another of those nagging messages from Elf Yewtree, I should start posting this year’s updates on Solstice. I might not get them all posted, as has been customary, by Old Twelvie but I shall do my best.

Seriously, though, I have family problems that are getting in the way of making new work. Readers might have noticed a lot of re-posts. However . . .

Readers might care to catch up on last year’s episodes before embarking on the new developments.

Wassail!
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THE REAL FATHER CHRISTMAS AND HIS ELVES


The Following Christmas Eve

Eventually Christmas Eve came round and most affairs had been settled. News seemed to have been getting around that the Elves were on the lookout. That left very few last minutes considerations to be addressed. It looked as though the Elves were going to be able to start partying early.

Elves Cobweb and Bindweed paid visits to Andrew and Tony, just to see that all was in order. You know how these things work by now. Donner and Blitzen were festooned with far too much golden tinsel and rather too many noisy bells. The Elves were quite looking forward to meeting their erstwhile guests once more. The bikes were revved up and launched. Two completely unnecessary circuits of the North Pole were navigated before the bikes got underway. Well, with two bikes like that, wouldn’t you get the most out of them? Of course, all that most humans could see was a pair of sleighs drawn by pairs of reindeer. Dancer and Prancer would, of course only warrant single draft reindeer. (Come on, keep up – check last season’s update!)

Tony and Jonno

Blitzen pulled up outside Tony’s flat and Elf Bindweed magicked himself inside. Tony was fast asleep unlike Jonno, who was too excited. Elf Bindweed thought, “Sod it, let him enjoy himself.” He adopted his miniaturised persona and leapt onto Tony’s bed. He stripped the duvet from Tony and delivered a completely unnecessary boot up the bum. He made sure Jonno could see it. Even as a teenager, he was only too ready to believe what he was seeing. After all, he’d had about three months to get used to the effects of magic.

A bleary-eyed tony came too only to see himself dressed as a baby once more. There was the nappy, the bonnet, the bootees and the mittens. There was even a bib. This one had Peppa Pig on it. What a good job Elf Bindweed had cast a sleeping spell on the residents of the neighbouring flats. The wail from Tony rose in pitch and in volume as the awful reality (so to speak) dawned on him.

“Wotcha, Mush. Remember me?” The horrified look on Tony’s face indicated the affirmative. Jonno’s eyes flicked delightedly between the Elf and his older brother. His grin could get no wider.

“OK, Little Guy,” a somewhat ironic sobriquet in the circumstances, “Your turn.” Elf Bindweed pulled some coarse hemp rope from his present sack and handed it to Jonno. “You don’t mind, do you?” Both brothers took some time to catch on. After further explanation, it became obvious that Jonno was being invited to tie up his big brother. Once again, the squeal of delight could have awoken the dead.

Tony wondered what he had done wrong this time but past experience advised against resistance. “Just tell him what you want him to do. I think he will cooperate. Won’t you?” Tony nodded.

“But I’ve never tied anyone up before.”

“Don’t you remember what he used to do to you?” Jonno did! “Well, with the help of a little Elf magic, I’m sure you will figure out how to do some of those things.” Tony could still not remember what he had done wrong to warrant such treatment. Jonno set to with a will.

Somehow, he remembered how to tie a rope cuff. He even remembered not to make it too long. In that way Tony would not find it too easy to slip his hands behind him later. He was certainly going to force him to do so. He wondered if his victim would pull his nappy off as his did so. He did hope so.

“Good job, Tiddler. What’s next?”

Jonno remembered that bit of broomstick that Tony made him chew on. That hurt. “Can I gag him?”

“Be my guest. “Something like this?” Elf Bindweed produced, as if by magic, a well-chewed length of wood. It looked just like the one Tony had thrown away nearly three months ago. He handed it to Jonno. “But use this, though, NOT a wet leather shoelace.” Tony looked ashamed. At least Elf Bindweed was showing some compassion as he handed Jonno a bootlace. “Hang on, Skinny, haven’t you forgotten something?” Tony was forced to relive the way he treated his brother when the bootee was on the other foot. He knelt so that Jonno could sit on the sofa. He placed the wooden gag in his own mouth and backed towards his brother. Jonno miraculously found out how to tie the instrument of torment tightly in place.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” Tony nodded. “Reckon I can remove that silencing spell now, don’t you.” Elf Bindweed winked and eye and twitched the opposite shoulder. He had taken the precaution of casting the spell following Tony’s initial reaction to seeing him. It was only then that Tony realised that he had said nothing since his original shocked reaction. “Not too much noise now, alright?” Tony merely nodded. Then Tony got a look at himself in the mirror. He hadn’t expected that. He could feel the uncomfortable wooden gag but it looked like a giant dummy.

“OK, over to you again, Tiddler.”

“Slave, slip your hands behind you and keel again afterwards.” Tony did have the difficulty that Jonno was hoping for. Obviously, Elf Bindweed would not allow the nappy to be dislodged but neither boy knew that. Tony Knelt only to be told to lift his feet. Jonno rope-cuffed his ankles about a foot apart and then told him to kneel again. That was fun. Well, not for Tony perhaps but he soon managed to do so. The frustrated grunting was very satisfying.

“Well done, Kiddo. Now what about his arms?” I can’t think where the next idea came from. Jonno found the middle of a longish rope and draped it over his brother’s shoulders. The ends hung down in front of him. Jonno wrapped one end three times round his right arm and the other similarly round his left one. There was a lot of rope left, hanging down behind him. That would not really have mattered; more would appear if it should be needed.

Elf Bindweed made good guess (Well, you know what I mean) as to what Jonno was about. He suggested that the collar and lead he was holding might be useful. It was. “But don’t tangle the lead, will you?” Just to keep it out of the way, Jonno slipped the end of the chain lead into the collar.

“Awe, thanks, how did you know?” The little Elf just tapped his pointy nose.

Things were a mystery to Tony. He couldn’t think where his brother had learned the techniques he was using. He still didn’t really understand all the implications of Elf magic. Neither did Jonno, but he was enjoying learning about some of them. He left the loosely wrapped rope ends dangling and attached the centre of another long rope to the front of the collar. An overhand knot soon held the hanging rope strands together. Jonno then threaded each hanging end in the top loops round Tony’s arms. He pulled gently causing hardly any rope burns and tied another overhand knot in the free ends. He seemed to be carrying out careful informal calculations.

Following two more iterations of the process, Tony was left with a loose harness across his torso. He was also left with quite a length of rope hanging together down in front of him. Tony was ordered to stand. Jonno pulled the rear rope tighter and secured the free ends round the rope-cuffs. The harness was still not noticeably tight. “Turn around, Slave.” Tony complied. He certainly panicked when he felt Jonno pulling the ends of the front rope down. He panicked even more when they were threaded between his legs. A final pull tightened the harness slightly but still not too tightly. The free ends were then attached to the rope cuffs but not before a final tightening.

Tony’s arms were safely secured but he could have been left that like that for quite some time. The loose harness was going to come in handy later. Elf Bindweed knew that.

“Good job, Little One. Fancy coming for a ride?”

“Wha’?”

“On the Kwaka?” Elf Bindweed indicated the 500cc Kawasaki combo hovering by the balcony. “I’m going to take your brother to meet my boss. You get to ride pillion – unless you want to share the sidecar with the loser. Fancy a ride?” Jonno didn’t even think twice. He didn’t even think he might miss Christmas morning. He was, however, a bit worried about getting cold. It was December, and the flat wasn’t too warm. Tony was clad in his boxers, his t-shirt and a pair of winter-weight pyjamas. He even still had his socks on. If it was that cold in his flat, he knew it must be even worse outside.

“You won’t get cold, promise, but put this on.” Jonno took the lid, complete with visor, and fastened it into place. It had a very comforting feel. “OK, safety first. You OK?” Jonno certainly was, which is more than could be said for Tony.

“Good. Excuse me while I change.” Now that WAS impressive: it was the first time Jonno had seen that. The little Elf transformed into one of Old Father Christmas’s six-foot-plus, black-clad enforcers. “Whoooar, that’s better. Let’s just get this object packaged up, then we’ll be off.” Things were just getting better - for one of the boys.

“Y’ know, Mush, your little brother hasn’t given much thought to making you look jolly, has he?” Oh, not again, Tony had been there before. A wink and a shrug sufficed. The loose harness was transformed into a series of festoons of tinkling bells. “Much more festive, don’t you agree?” Only one of the brothers did.

“Right, then, into the sack.” Tony thought he would never have to suffer that indignity again. This time there even seemed to be assorted rubbish inside it already. Now you know and I know that Elf Bindweed could have magicked it to be empty. But where was the fun in that? The Elf lifted the laden sack onto his shoulder and dumped it into the sidecar. At least Tony would not be cold once the top was down.

“OK then? Trust me?” Of course, Jonno trusted him and it didn’t even take magic to make him do so. “Right, just think about jumping into the saddle and, when you’re ready, just go.” Jonno didn’t see the nod or the shrug and he still thinks today that he made the jump without help. The bike revved, Jonno hugged his new friend and it was jingle, jingle all the way to HQ(NP).




TBC
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Ah what a fine return for a Christmas tradition :!:
💙 Love to be tied-up 💙
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Thank you, @tiedinbluetights.
If the Gods be with us, here comes the next part.
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THE REAL FATHER CHRISTMAS AND HIS ELVES


Andrew



Meanwhile, at the posher end of town, Elf Cobweb was paying a visit to Andrew. He was no longer sharing a bedroom with Roger. Since their oldest sister left home, Andrew had inherited her room. Pity, really, Elf Cobweb couldn’t be arsed to include Roger in the forthcoming activities. It didn’t matter as much as including Jonno, really, as he hadn’t suffered as badly.

Elf Cobweb parked the combo on the lawn and forced an entry, (without causing damage, of course.) He lifted his nearly empty present sack onto his shoulder and climbed quietly up to the second floor. That is the one above the one above the ground floor, of course; Elf Cobweb is an English Elf!

He stood for a while, by Andrew’s bed getting things ready. Elf Cobweb, in his black-clad form is even more impressive looking than his colleague. Six-foot-five tall and muscles like the cartoons of Superman. He had the tinsel in the laces of his cherry-reds and the little Santa cap on top of his balaclava. They did little to improve his festive look. The Elf laid out what he thought he might need and departed for the nearest toilet. He was glad to find that the waste bin was watertight; it saved him having to use his cap.

Upon his return, the Elf steadied himself and waited a few seconds. He held a freshly drawn bin of cold water in one hand and Andrew’s duvet in the other. He allowed himself to count out loud, “One, two, three!” What timing; what coordination! The duvet was drawn back and the water hit Andrew square on his boxer-briefs just as he awoke. I’m not quite sure how to record what he said here. It sounded like a cross between, “Whaaaaa’!??" and a high-pitched squeal.

Elf Cobweb put a silence spell in place immediately as Andrew’s hands clasped himself instinctively. “Merry Christmas, Dicksplash.” Not the sort of language he would have used in front of the Boss but what the ear doesn’t hear . . . “I’ll bet you didn’t expect to see me.” Indeed, Andrew did not. He really thought such trials were over.

“Compliments of the season from Old Father Christmas. He just wants to catch up with you and your little mate. You won’t mind coming with me, will you?” Andrew gradually came to his senses. He had half an idea that such a meeting had been mentioned in the past, or was that a dream? As Elf Cobweb worked, Andrew came to believe that it was not a dream.

Having no younger brother to involve, the busy Elf could take some obvious magical shortcuts. He still looked forward to finishing work early on that Christmas Eve. Andrew’s house was warm hence the minimal sleepwear. The sodden, powder blue boxer-briefs were, however, no longer really doing their job. A wink and a shrug quickly dealt with that situation. Andrew found himself instantly in the full baby costume, including the dummy, once more. Horrible things were re-surfacing in his mind. At least his bib was adorned with a cartoon dinosaur.

Wanting to ensure efficient binding, Elf Cobweb produced a well-worked white nylon rope. He made a ‘friendly suggestion’ that Andrew might like to cooperate. He is nearly as persuasive as Elf Bindweed. A certain element of magic speeded up the process. In a very short time, Elf Cobweb was examining his work. He saw the two doubled rounds of rope securing Andrew’s arms to his torso, which he checked for security. He decided that a couple of short ropes would be useful. They were threaded between Andrew’s torso and his arms and used to pull the longer ropes tight. His forearms were pulled against his pelvis and his wrists cuffed securely some ten inches apart. “Should stop you playing with yourself!” Humiliation was piling on humiliation.

A few more pulls and pushes, confirmed the security of Elf Cobweb’s work. “OK, Mush, bells or baubles, d’ you reckon? Andrew wasn’t quite sure what that was all about but he knew that he would have no real choice. Another wink and a shrug transformed the rope into gold tinsel. Not only that, dozens of miniature Father Christmases were attached. “Look, you know that the Old Man doesn’t really look like that but it’s what people expect. Oooh look, some of them even light up!” It still didn’t help Andrew to feel festive as they flashed at random.

“Well, we’d better get going.” Elf Cobweb reached for his sack. “Ooops! Nearly forgot.” Reaching into the sack, the giant elf found the necessary collar and lead. Surey things couldn’t get any worse? Yes, they could as Elf Cobweb whistled an off-key tune as he pulled the sack over Andrew’s head. At least he wouldn’t be able to hear it once the sack had been properly secured. Elf Cobweb hoisted his present sack over his shoulder and ran down the two flights of stairs. Andrew was thrown around all over the place. Even his already muffled cries of alarm could not penetrate the fabric of the sack. Once outside, the sack was thrown into the sidecar and secured safely. The lid was fastened down and Donner took of for the North Pole.


Old Father Christmas Is Receiving



Being Christmas Eve, the delivery run was well underway. It made a change for the Elves to spend more time delivering presents that the recipients wanted. There were so few naughty kids this year. There were still some but the message seemed to be getting around. A minute before midnight, Santa’s sleigh pulled into the stable. It still had “EAT MY (STAR)DUST” on the back doors, and Rudoph’s bottle had been re-painted. The words on the side now read “Express Delivery” with a picture of Thomas the Tank Engine. Father Christmas asked why they couldn’t include the Fat Controller in the artwork. Someone told him. He was soon included following a most Un-Father-Christmasy outburst about “Woke Nonsense”. Needless to say, the passengers were a multitude of Elves singing happily. What a good job the “Slay” was soundproof. The sound of jingling accompanied the vehicle across the sky. Somes adults always see the homeward track. The more miserable ones still think that they have simply seen the International Space Station. Some people will never accept the truth.

With a minute to spare, the Elves had plenty of (North Pole) time to change into their party clothes. Even Old Father Christmas had time to prepare his own early Christmas present, of course he did. Before the stroke of Midnight, all the Elves and Fairies were assembled. It was time for the arrival of their august host. His appearance did not disappoint.

The Elves had spent a year on the party sleigh that carried Old Father Christmas into their midst. It hovered, which was just as well for the ‘reindeer’. All the while the elaborate construction floated in the air, they had only its initial inertia to overcome. They would have to battle its momentum later but there was no friction to impede their progress. Not all the Elves thought the ‘reindeer’ deserved such consideration. However, season of goodwill and all that . . .

The sleigh was drawn by three festive looking reindeer. Each one had a leather reindeer mask completely enclosing his head. They looked like the sort of ‘puppy masks’ that certain adults enjoy using that had been adapted. Well, where do you think such things are manufactured in the first place? Each mask had been artfully coloured and had a cute tongue hanging out of the corner of its mouth. The addition of impressive sets of antlers completed the head-gear. Well, the antlers and the muzzles that lead to sets of reins made out of tinsel, but strong tinsel. It was difficult to tell from their expressions whether the reindeer were happy. All that could be seen from the underlying human heads were their eyes.

Old Father Christmas entered distributing treats, of course, accompanied by many, “Ho, ho, hos.” He had been all round the world waving out of the front window of the white transit van. Now his voice was giving out having gone, “Ho, ho, ho,” for many hours. He made himself a promise to drink more garlic, sage and honey, and less bramble wine in future. However, when one is Old Father Christmas, who is going to monitor such a promise?

Elf Yewtree was driving, of course, as the Elves and Fairies cheered the arrival of the Boss. The sleigh made three circuits of the cavernous Rec. Room, before being called to a halt. The reindeer stopped but were still breathing heavily. Their hoof-shaped ‘gloves’ were fastened in front of them, but not too closely, by festive chains. They could still not move their enclosed hands very much, though. Their elbows trapped a spar against their backs which they used to draw the sleigh. They had spent a good month in training to be good reindeer. They had to work as a team; they had to step in sync., and they had to lift their knees high. Learning to cope with the high-heeled hoof-shaped boots took the most time of all.

In all, they made a spectacular team, especially once all the detailed body-paint had been applied. It was generally agreed that Fairy Thistledown’s designs were unparalleled. The only real fur, other than on the mask, seemed to be designed to keep the reindeer decent. And not all that decent at that. What was more or less a fluffy jockstrap left scope for one final outrage. Most of the Faries thought that the little, erect tails made them look cute. These three had just one last chance to get things right and be released before next Christmas.

Old Father Christmas enjoyed the cushioning provided by his new sleigh’s suspension. It even smoothed out the navigation of the few steps that the reindeer encountered. He also enjoyed the ancient vintage sloe- gin that he had been handed. Hower, even in this slack year, there were still some loose ends to tie up.



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THE REAL FATHER CHRISTMAS AND HIS ELVES


Late Arrivals to the Party



Donner and Blitzen were stabled and Elves Cobweb and Bindweed shouldered their charges. Jonno was invited to follow; he had so many questions. The Elves did their best to answer him but told him he’d seen nothing yet. A few minutes saw the sacks dumped on the floor of Elf Bindweed’s workshop. Two over-sized babies were decanted onto the floor and persuaded to take to their knees. Fairy Snowflake handed Baby Snowdrop to her dad with the words he had been dreading. No, not, “Baby needs changing,” he was used to that but, even worse: “She’s teething.” I wonder why he didn’t use one of those silencing spells. Oh well, he’d just have to get used to it; how long does teething last in such a long-lived life-form?

A quick examination of the festive bindings confirmed that they had stayed put. So, that was OK, but the collars and leads looked all wrong. Fairy Snowflake had an idea: she departed and almost immediately returned bearing trophies. That was more like it. The babies were hauled to their feet and the clumsy chains were unclipped. Fairy Snowflake buckled a harness round Tony’s chest and over his shoulders. She wasn’t happy. A soon as she fished the bib out from underneath it, she was much happier. Now her baby had some reins by which to control him. Well, you know that they wouldn’t really be necessary but they simply added to the humiliation. Andrew was soon equipped in a similar manner and Jonno was invited to take the reins. Oh yes, he was going to enjoy this, what a shame Roger wasn’t here as well. Jonno gave a smug grin. Fairy Snowflake was unhappy – again! Never mind, a wink and a shrug soon put that right. Pictures of Shaun the Sheep appeared on the fronts of the harnesses. Now she was happy again.

There followed some erudite discussion about whether the babies had taken their first steps yet. Andrew and Tony feared the worst. It took only a few minutes for common sense to prevail: of course, they had. That way, the Elves could get to the party quicker.

“Would you lead the way, My Good Elf?” More mock courtesies ensued. Elf Bindweed led the way with Fairy Snowflake – and Baby Snowdrop. Jonno and his charges followed with Elf Cobweb following, just to keep an eye on things.


A Few Weeks Previously



Once Andrew and Tony had returned to their homes, they knew they had to behave. They were also subject to the embarrassment of appearing as babies to their erstwhile victims. Their behaviour had been exemplary. The rest of their gang seemed to have become reformed characters. But not until a couple of days following Andrew and Tony’s return. Before that, they behaved as they always had, I wonder if readers can guess what happened. Yup, one day, they received a surprise invitation. Following that, of course, it was as if they had never existed. Or, at least, that’s the impression they seemed to have got from somewhere. After those two days, they seemed to be reformed characters. Perhaps I had better explain what happened. Let’s see how much readers will guess correctly.

The Elves received intelligence that all was not well with Jonno and some of the other kids. An out-of-season visit was called for. Elf Yewtree drove Santa’s repainted sleigh and took Elves Oakwood and Bramblethorn with him. Neither Elf was as imposing as Elf Cobweb but they had impressive skills of their own. Their guests were to be the twins, Chris and Martin and their oppo, Kevin. The twins were fishing mad and Kevin had a total Napoleon complex. But more about him later.


The Twins



Elf Yewtree dropped his passengers off just a little way from the twin’s favourite night-fishing spot. It was not a licenced one and there would be no one else there. Chris and Martin set their rods up and pitched a shelter. Once they had arranged two comfortable camp-beds, they were all set. The twins weren’t too bright and were easily lead astray. Their size came in useful when it came to bullying smaller kids, and they got into trouble easily. They were also fond of drinking cheap cider which made them sleepy after a couple of hours. Now that was going to be useful,

Elves Oakwood and Bramblethorn bided their time and eventually, Chris dropped off. Martin went across to some trees for a pee. (I wonder why he bothered.) Keeping Chris asleep was a matter of a wink and a shrug so that he would keep for later.

Martin had found a friendly tree with which to commune when he heard a voice behind him. “D’ you believe in Father Christmas?” The shock made him splash himself before managing to tuck himself away. By the time he had recovered, he had a bag over his head and his arms pinioned to his sides. His language would have made a Goblin blush. The look of a rather chunky youth floundering and waving his forearms uselessly was comical. The elves let it go on until Martin tripped over. Once he had done so, his fate was settled. A large, strong Christmas bauble was shoved into his obviously wide-open mouth. It was then taped into place with several rounds of last-year’s packing tape. The jolly holly design didn’t make him seem any jollier – but he was a lot quieter.

There was no point in securing the yobbo’s wrists yet and the Elves grabbed a foot each. Martin was dragged across to his camping bed and dumped unceremoniously upon it. His trackie bottoms had been dragged down and there were leaves, soil and grass everywhere. Elf Bramblethorn dragged his trousers up again trapping a fair representation of the forest floor.

Camp beds are quite substantial these days, a feature that the Elves were going to find convenient. Martin was secured to his at various stations. He was face up and almost completely immobile. Being not yet Advent, the Elves saw no reason to render their guests festive. They were more concerned with security. They couldn’t help smirking as the fabric covering the upper part of Martins; face billowed in and out.

“Awrigh’ mate, just take it easy, we need to have a word with your brother here. Don’t get jealous, will you?” The Elves turned their attention to Chris. He looked just like his brother: somewhat bulky, tall, and dark-haired. The only difference was that he wore heavy, black-rimmed glasses. The Elves assessed their next target, who had turned onto his right side. He had even gone to sleep on his hands. How convenient.

A quick wrap with a few rounds of festive Sellotape secured Chris’s hands in a preying pose. By the time he had come round, they had been taped to his waist. “And have you been a very good boy this year?” Chris kicked out and it didn’t sound as though he was in any way a good boy. Elf Oakwood sat on his legs and his colleague produced another of those Christmas baubles. Have you ever noticed that thugs never know when to keep their mouths shut? Isn’t that useful?

The very strong, shiny ornament was still visible through several layers of transparent tape. At least the bag went outside the decoration this time. It was a matter of minutes before Chris was secured to his bed in a similar manner to his brother. Neither boy seemed to have any intention of giving up the fight. The Elves quite like it when they have to put some effort into making their guests see sense. Let’s face it: no one was going to hear all the muffled swearing once the swearers were in the van.

Two camp beds doubled as stretchers to transfer their contents the short way to the transport. They even served as accommodation inside Santa’s Sleigh. Elf Yewtree took off and headed to Kevin’s place.

Kevin

Kevin’s place was quite an impressive one: a large, villa-type bungalow. He shared it with his big sister and his somewhat over-indulgent mum. Kevin was a very short, muscle-bound sports fanatic – but in no way a sportsman. He had curly, dark hair and the mouth of a paratrooper without its taste filter. Since Andrew’s miraculous conversion, he had assumed the role of gang-leader. He probably had more brain than both of the twins put together.

Being at ground level, access to Kevin’s bedroom, more like a suite, really, was easy. I know that Elves have no difficulty gaining access wherever it is needed but all things are relative. The Elves appeared in the sleeping Kevin’s room. Needless to say, everyone else in the house was asleep. The Elves bided their time. Elf Bramblethorn sprinkled a little magic dust on Kevin’s nose. He had no intention of using it for magic purposes, he just wanted to annoy his subject. Kevin twitched and rubbed his nose. After the sixth application, he was getting riled. He lit the bedside lamp and sat up to get a tissue. He got a bit of a surprise.

“Ho, ho, ho, our Boss wants a word with you.” Elf Oakwood thought he might as well borrow a phrase from OFC.

For the first time in his life, Kevin’s foul mouth hung silently open? For all his faults, he had never taken drugs but what the f***? What sort of hallucination was this? Two pointy-eared Elves seemed to have found their way into his bedroom. The giggled like David Bowie’s ‘Laughing Gnome’.

The stream of invective soon commenced. Two Elves looked at one another: it was time for the change. Once more a gob-smacked silence overcame the foul-mouthed little thug. Two tall, black-clad, balaclava’d thugs stood where the little Elves had just been.

“I’m glad you stooped all that language.”

“Yeah, my colleague here don’t like bad language; do you, Mate?”

“Bloody right, Elf Bramblethorn.”

Once more the invective started. Elf Bramblethorn pulled the bed-cover off the diminutive footballer and Elf Oakwood grabbed him. He was soon hanging, feet off the ground in a whole nelson. His cries of distress were soon answered by being allowed to kneel on his bed. Elf Oakwood still held tightly onto his prey.

“Nah, you goin’ to listen, or is my colleague here going to do this again?” Elf Oakwood let Kevin hang for a few seconds more. Kevin indicted that he might care to listen. “You’re coming with us and you’ve got some choices to make. Listening?”

Kevin did his best to nod. “Right, you can keep those undies or we can take them off. Keep them?”

Kevin didn’t answer so the Elves took it as a tacit affirmative. Kevin slept in long, tight boxers. These were dark blue with a yellow waistband. That was all he was wearing.

“Good decision. Now let’s see if you can make a few more.”

“Bu’ wha’? Who?”

“The next decision is to shut the f*** up. Got it?

“Language, Elf Oakwood.”

“Yeah, sorry, Elf Bramblethorn; little f***ers like him make me forget my manners at times”.

As the stresses on Kevin’s body intensified, his swearing morphed into pleading.

“I think you can let him go now, My Good Elf.”

“You sure?” Elf Oakwood gave just one little reminder before letting Kevin drop. He would not have liked his mates, and especially his victims, to see him now. He was obviously sobbing.

Kevin stood unsteadily looking from one Elf to the other whilst rotating his shoulders. He certainly had square shoulders, a deep chest and a narrow waist and he was certainly very fit. But he was only just over five-foot tall and these two must both have been six-footers. There was no obvious escape route; perhaps if he bided his time?

The Elves were in a rough hemp rope mood. They really did not like thugs, even miniaturised ones. Working as a pair, the captors draped a long rope over Kevin’s shoulders. They wrapped the ends four times around each of his arms and tied them off at his wrists. Once his hands had been hauled up his back, Kevin started protesting again.

“Shut it, Shorty, they can go a lot higher yet.” After a short demonstration, Kevin yelled and the Elves eased things off a bit. Elf Oakwood bound the little guy’s wrists together and gathered the free ends in one hand. He threaded them up between his back and the rope at the back of his neck. Then he pulled them through and kept pulling until Keven yelled again. A couple more turns between the neck rope and Kevin’s wrists were then tightened. Kevin manged not to yell that time. The ropes were tied off leaving quite a length hanging down unused behind Kevin’s back.

“Wha’ d’ you think, Elf Oakwood: dun’ ‘ee look like a little gnome?” That was somewhat unkind but Elf Oakwood saw what his oppo meant. I think Kevin gave up all hope shortly after that. He was made to sit with his ankles crossed so that Elf Bramblethorn could tie them. He didn’t pull his neck too close to his ankles afterwards but Kevin didn’t see it that way.

“Oh look, just like a little gnome sitting by a pond.” Elf Bramblethorn lamented the lack of a little gnome cap but he was prepared to improvise. He sacrificed his own Santa cap to the cause. Just inverting it first hid the bobble and, with a quick magical pull, the gnome cap was complete.

Of course, Elves would normally not have been anywhere near as brutal as they were being to Kevin. It’s just that a number of kids simply wouldn’t agree that they were being too brutal. By now, all bravado had dissipated in favour of abject pleading. Kevin had no resistance left in him when the bauble came into play. It can only be presumed that the gagged sniffling that continued, extended the pleading.

“OK, Elf Bramblethorn, ready?”

“Indeed, Good Elf,” saying which, he pulled the pointy hat down over Kevin’s eyes. It would stay there until the Elves decided otherwise. “One, two, threeee.” Kevin felt himself lifted from the ground and dumped into something or the other. The next thing he knew was that he was swung into the air and landed against something boney. Elf Oakwood carried him out to the Transit van and deposited him there. Kevin will never know how the Elves got either into or out of his bedroom.

“And fasten your seatbelts, my Good Elves, our guests have someone to meet.” Seatbelts were metaphorically fastened and the transit took off for the North Pole.


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THE REAL FATHER CHRISTMAS AND HIS ELVES


Three new arrivals at HQ(NP)

The white transit van took hardly any time to reach HQ(NP) and the Elves unloaded their new guests. Kevin was dumped, still in his present sack, on the floor of Elf Oakwood’s workshop. Being in the sack, his cries of distress would have been inaudible even without the gag. He was ignored while the twins were decanted still on their improvised gurneys. Even the twins had almost stopped protesting. Almost, but not quite. Elf Yewtree returned Santa’s Sleigh to the stable.

“Nah listen, y’ li’uw shi’heads,” Elf Oakwood seemed to have forgotten his manners again, “As soon as you stop your noise, my colleague and I will let you breathe again.” Both elves clamped one size-14 hand over where the boys’ mouths were. As if that wasn’t enough to ensure quiet, they also pinched the twins’ nostrils closed. After about thirty seconds, the Elves seemed to be more satisfied.

“Shall we explain that again?” Two bags were shaking from side to side seeming to indicate that it would not be necessary. “Right, remember that.”

Look, you know and I know that the Elves could have achieved silence by magic. You know and I know, however, that it would not have been as much fun. Seriously, though, the boys had to be trained to make certain decisions for themselves.

“Alright, stay quiet, we’ve got another little twat to look after.” Elf Oakwood turned to face his oppo. “Look, can’t I just dump a whole pile of chocolate coins in the swear-box? It’ll be much easier than controlling my language; I can’t stand bullies.”

“Ah, my good friend, we wouldn’t want your language to embarrass any passing Faries, would we?” Yes, readers, that was ironic; have you met Fairy Camelia? Both Elves giggled.

Kevin was decanted from the sack onto the floor with a noticeable grunt. Elf Bramblethorn just rolled him around the floor a bit. “Still think you can escape if you just bide your time?” How did Elf Bramblethorn know what he’d been thinking? By the time Kevin was seated with his head bowed again, there was little fight left in him.

“Wanna be able to sit up?” Kevin nodded as much as his bonds allowed. “Goin’ to be good?” The tiny lying nods seemed to indicate the affirmative. “Right, just remember, this is only the gentlest thing we might do to you.” Then, just to make a point, Elf Bramblethorn rolled the human medicine ball round the floor again. After no more than about fifteen seconds, Kevin came to rest once more. Elf Bramblethorn released his neck from the rope drawing it towards his ankles. Kevin fell backwards. What a good job the Christmas bauble s still in place. Otherwise the Elves’ delicate sensibilities would have been outraged again. They giggled like girlies once more.

Elf Bramblethorn took the empty present sack in one hand. Then he took the loose ropes hanging from Kevin’s wrists in the other. He dragged Kevin on his arse across to the nearest wall and propped him up against it. A few well-chosen words left him a bit more convinced that he should behave – for now, at least. Well, a few well-chosen words and the minor wedgie as Elf Bramblethorn reinstated his boxers. “Well, they got dragged down a bit while I was showing him the way, didn’t they?”

Kevin could be easily accommodated in his present sack before being taken to meet “The Boss”. It would, obviously, not do to take the twins in on their camp beds, though. So, erudite discussion ensued.

“Wha’ we goin’ to do with Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dumber, then?”

“Really, Elf Oakwood, manners! They are our guests. Anyhow, that’s not a pair of very suitable names in the circumstances.”

“Well, we’ve got some time to think about it. Get ‘em off those beds?”

“Yep. I’ll get a couple of present sacks.”

“Why a couple, my good Elf? Don’t you reckon they should share?”

“Why not? Do them good to have to get on nicely.”

Elf Oakwood prodded Chris in the belly. “OK, Tubs, we’re going to untie you a bit.”

“Yeah, but not completely.”

“Do what you’re told, yes?” Chris’s bagged head could be seen nodding. He might well not have been the smartest model on the runway, but he did know he was in rags.

Once Chris’s wrists had been cut free from his waist, he could still hardly resist. Even after the tape binding his wrists together was cut free, he had no better opportunity to do so. What the hell was being forced over his hands, he had no idea. He did notice, though, that he couldn’t open his fists. His hands would be useless to him even if he could see. Whatever he had on his fists was soft and padded. The Elves took a long time to lace whatever they were very tightly into place.

“What you reckon, Elf Bramblethorn: bind his arms now or make things easier for ourselves later?” Chris couldn’t work that out. Let’s face it: Elf Bramblethorn had to pre-imagine several possible outcomes. He isn’t very good at chess. “You want me to design the forthcoming packaging, Dear Elf?”

“Create, my good Sir, but do it nicely.”

“Trust me.” Elf Oakwood was going to enjoy himself. Chris was probably not.

Chris, still being hooded, would be helpless as long as his legs stayed fastened to the camp bed. Elf Oakwood set about his self-appointed task. “Put your hooves, I mean your hands, on your head.” Chris did his best while the restrains that held his upper body to the camp bed were removed. “OK, Tubs, sit up.” Poor Chris tried to do that with his hands still on his head. He was obviously unaware of the video that could be shared later. Elf Oakwood just let him get on with it. His unfortunate victim felt very precariously balanced.

“Alright, good kid. Now hold your hands out.” If anyone has trouble understanding how unstable Chris felt, they should try it sometime. Elf Oakwood took a long rope and formed quite a rigid set of rope cuffs. He left about eight inches between Chris’s wrists. As the Elf finished and relinquished his hands, Chris started to think that things could be worse. His hands dropped into his lap and he managed to balance himself by leaning forwards.

“Oh yes, this Elf is good!” For someone who is several hundred years old, Elf Oakwood can be quite childish at times. Having congratulated himself, he proceeded with his task. “OK, slip that rope behind your neck.” Chris did so, leaving his bent elbows sticking out sideways.

Elf Oakwood tapped the bag over his subject’s head lightly twice. “Just checking.” Chris jerked himself backwards. “It’s OK, they’re still there. Now sit up again.” The Elf said he was simply checking that Chris’s specs were still in place. There was no real need; they had, in fact, been secured by magic. There was, though, no way Elf Oakwood was going to pass up an opportunity to torment a bully. Having done so, he released Chris from his improvised gurney completely. With his hands having been rendered useless, he would still be completely unable to escape.

Just for good measure, and to cause more distress, Elf Oakwood continued. Ot only took a short ribbon to secure Chris’s wrists to his neck. That certainly caused the required distress even though it wasn’t tight enough to be dangerous. It didn’t need to be: Chris’s chin would prevent his being able to lift his wrists.

Elf Bramblethorn was intrigued: he still had no idea what his oppo had intended. “Just help our friend here to stand up and take him and leave him beside the little gnome over there.”

“OK, but don’t do anything to his brother until I’m watching, will you?”

“I shall wait, Good Elf, until you can watch and learn.” With that, Elf Oakwood collected more rope.

Elf Bramblethorn hooked his fingers into the waistband of Chris’s trackies. “OK, Chunky, follow me.” Not that he had any choice, but Chris decided that he would do his best to comply. He was soon leaning against the wall beside Kevin, not that he could see that. Elf Bramblethorn collected a large present sack which he threw in approximately Chris’s direction.

“OK, I’m all ears – Elf ears!” Both Elves chuckled. The twins wondered what all the nonsense about Elves was about. Remember that, unlike Kevin, they had seen no evidence of the true nature of their abductors. Elf Oakwood turned his attention towards Martin.

With the strap melding his arms to his torso, there had been no need further to restrain his forearms. That made the Elves’ next task easier. Elf Oakwood threw one of those special mittens to his colleague, who went into action. In less than a minute and a half, Martin had his hands rendered useless. Watching him waving his forearms around uselessly was, to say the least, entertaining.

Elf Oakwood soon had Martin separated from his camp bed and standing up. The tape securing the Christmas bauble over the top of his hood made escape impossible. The strap was still tightly in place ensuring that Martin couldn’t even reach his gag. Even if he could have done so, it would have been fruitless so he didn’t even try.

“Bring the other one back, please, Young Elf.”

“Right-ho. Won’t be a mo.”

“No need to wax poetical, my good Elf. Culture’s wasted on these three.”

Chris was dragged back to where Martin was standing while Elf Oakwood unbuckled the belt. Martin needed that and waggled his arms convulsively. The Elves just let him get on with it for a while.

“OK, you’re twins, yes?” Both bags nodded noticeably. “And do you both love one another? The bags’ responses were equivocal. “Let’s put it this way: do you,” Chris felt a slap to his midriff, “Love your brother?” Chris nodded while wheezing a stifled reply. The same ceremony was repeated with Martin. His reply was even more muffled than his brother’s had been. “Good, in that case you won’t mid hugging him, will you?” The twins were confused; they couldn’t even see one another.

“If you please, My Good Elf, just bring yours round to face mine.” Elf Bramblethorn pushed Chris up against his twin. And, if you would be good enough to cop hold of his brother’s hands.” Martin soon found himself hugging his brother. He made no attempt at resistance and the twins ended with their chins on each other’s shoulders. “Now that is cute.” The indecipherable protests were ignored.

Chris was considerable too bulky for Martin to cross his hands easily in spite of his attempt to do so. Elf Oakwood said he could cope as long as both twins would cooperate. They both seemed to indicate that they would. At least, they nodded following some very unpleasant threats.

Martin’s wrists were bound a few inches apart. He was still hugging Chris quite tightly. “Now, what else should we do? Ah yes, a belt, I think.” What followed wasn’t quite a belt. Several rounds of rope were wrapped around the twins, pulling their torsos close together. Once it was tightened, there was a noticeable indentation where their waists should have been.

“And now just a few finishing touches.” Such refinements were probably not necessary but nothing succeeds like excess. Elf Oakwood doubled a rope and slipped the bight between Chris’s neck and his rope cuffs. Once the free ends had been threaded through it and pulled tight, Chris started to object.

“Do you think we need to explain things to them again?”

“What, to both of them?” asked Elf Oakwood. Elf Bramblethorn gave him a pitying look.

“OK, here goes.” Once again Elf hands were clamped over human mouths, and human nostrils were pinched. “Quiet?” There was obviously no struggling free. Four enormous hands and two shoulders denied the twins any useful evasive movements. After several seconds, the question was asked again: “Quiet?” The Elves just assumed that their guests had acquiesced and fingers released their vice-like grips. Bags alternately inflated and then clung to desperate faces as two youths struggled for breath.

“Last chance. Shame; we wouldn’t have been so strict but, you objected so I shan’t have to finish off so nicely.”

“Look, geezers, stay still and let my colleague here finish his job – or shall we explain things again?”

The twins obviously did not request any further explanations so Elf Oakwood proceeded. Once he had finished, the doubled rope had been used to its fullest extent and more. Isn’t it useful to be able to magic more rope into existence when it is needed? That way the free ends don’t get in the way so badly and threading them is so much easier.

The doubled rope, was tied round the link between Martin’s wrists and even round the ’belt’. The twins were grateful that they still had their trackies on for the next stage. Elf Oakwood passed the ropes between their legs and pulled harder than was really necessary. A further tie round the belt behind Martin left the Elves discussing how to finish-off the binding. The belt was going nowhere, neither up nor down so that left two free ends trailing.

“Ready, Elf Bramblethorn?”

Ready, Elf Oakwood.” The Elves collected the present sacks ready to deliver their visitors. Traditions are important, even out of season.



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THE REAL FATHER CHRISTMAS AND HIS ELVES


The Presents Are Properly Packaged



Father Christmas had not bothered to fit “That bloody holly wreath” on his head. After all, it was not yet quite November so that torment could wait. He was comfortable in his onsie, the one with little red-nosed reindeer all over it. A matching pair of comfy “Rudolf” slippers completed his outfit. Elf Yewtree had warned him to expect visitors but he saw no reason to be uncomfortable. He simply made himself at home on the throne and awaited the arrival of the three bullies.

Meanwhile, the Elves had summoned up a trolley made to look like a small sleigh. They were big, strong Elves, but perhaps a sack containing two large twins might be too heavy. In any case, they wanted to try out one of Elf Bindweed’s latest innovations.

Poor Kevin (Am I allowed to call him that?) was easily dropped into his present sack. It was fastened with a jolly red ribbon with a glossy fabric rosette attached. Well, standards do have to be maintained when introducing guests to Old Father Christmas.

The twins would have to be packed differently. Elf Bramblethorn pulled the larger sack down over the boys’ heads and down to their feet. “Tiiimbeeeeeer!” He gave just a little push to the conjoined boys. Elf Oakwood caught them and helped them gently to the floor. The bag, not being fastened, was far from soundproof! Yep, the muffled cries of alarm were most gratifying. The Elves pushed the twins’ feet right inside the bag and lifted the opening roughly. As far as they were concerned, the twins could just make their own salvation. There were certainly some very satisfying sounds of frustration as their legs tangled with each other. It also sounded as though knees were making unfortunate contact with other bodily parts. The Elves’ satisfied grins lasted until well after they had fastened the sack. Peace descended with the tying of a ribbon with a fancy bow to close the twins away.

The Sleigh/trolley came with its own draught facility: a very worried looking, well-muscled youth. He was dressed as an old-fashioned circus strongman and was expected to pull it. His tasselled leotard was set off by the inevitable Christmas tinsel. Readers will already understand the use of ‘special’ tinsel for binding reluctant volunteers. The finishing touch was the preposterous, over-sized false moustache. Oversized because it obviously disguised the inevitable gag. It would never do to have such an offensive item offensively on open display.

Kevin was easily loaded by Elf Oakwood but the twins would not be so easily embarked. Elf Bramblethorn dropped a ramp from the rear of the sleigh. It would be easy to drag the twins aboard. Not as much fun and not as alarming but common sense sometimes prevails even among Elves. It was a shame that none of the prolific protestations could not be heard.

The “Strongman” took the strain and waited for his instructions. On the call, the sleigh moved smoothly on its plentiful, self-levelling castors. As it progressed, two screens along the bottom of the sleigh flashed into action. They didn’t quite reach the ground and displayed a video of reindeer feet galloping. Every time the sleigh stopped, so did the galloping feet. Now that really was cute; or really tacky depending on your point of view.

“OK, Mr Muscles, gee up. The Boss is waiting to meet your cargo.”

“And, just because I’m a nice guy, I’ll make you a promise. If you can make it in five minutes, you can take the rest of the day off.” Time had very little meaning at the North Pole but anything was worth a try. The trolley took off at a sprint. The self-levelling mechanism coped with the few single stairs quite well. The passengers still got a good shaking around, though. The sleigh arrived well before the five minutes were up.


Old Father Christmas Receives the Visitors


The sleigh pulled up well short of the throne with the “muscle man” breathing heavily. The bizarre moustache flapped forwards and backwards as he struggled to catch his breath. Elf Bramblethorn lowered the ramp.

Although it wasn’t even December, Old Father Christmas thought he had better go into the routine. “Ho, ho, ho, and what have you brought me, My Good Elves?”

“A trio of real little scumbags, Father Christmas.”

“Well, well, well, I suppose I had better have a look at them.”

Elf Bramblethorn lifted the smaller sack onto his shoulder and hefted it across to the throne.

“Ho, ho, ho, what an attractively presented package. Will someone get me a sloe gin, please? Voice is a bit rusty.” That was predictable and Fairy Gossamer had pre-empted the request. She had a rather large glass ready. “Oh, wonderful, thank you.” To be honest the Old Boy’s voice sounded no different even after the second glass. “Now, where was I? Oh, yes. Ho, ho, ho, show me your visitor, Young Bramblethorn.”

Elf Bramblethorn untied the sack and pulled on the bottom mightily. That decanted Kevin just at the foot of the throne. His arms were still pulled up towards his shoulders and his ankles were still crossed. Elf Bramblethorn helped his guest to sit up and tidied-up the loose rope-ends. There was a lot of free rope attached to his ankles but rather less from his wrists. Elf Bramblethorn left his Santa cap in place until later. It would have been a shame to spoil the iminent reveal. It could stay where it was until the twins were ready to meet Old Father Christmas. Kevin tried fruitlessly to get a look around: the sounds he could hear were worrying him.

“What a fine sight, My Good Elves, a cute little garden gnome. Ho, ho, ho.” That joke was wearing a bit thin by now as far as Kevin was concerned. His attempt to object simply seemed to cause laughter in the surrounding company. How many people could see him f’ f***k sake? He thought better of continuing his attempts to express outrage.

“And who else have you brough for me to meet?”

“Special presentation, Boss.”

Old Father Christmas sighed, what had happened to his dignity – again? The Elves dragged the writhing sack containing the twins from the sleigh. They left the twins to continue trying fruitlessly to find a comfortable position for a couple of minutes.

“Come on, My Good Elves, it must be nearly lunchtime; do get on with it.”

“Right-oh, Boss.” Once more, Old Father Christmas sighed. He would sack Elf Oakwood if he hadn’t been so good at his job.

Elf Bramblethorn untid the large present sack and, working as a pair, the Elves pulled it. The twins were revealed. Many Fairies and Elves laughed as the entertainment proceeded.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake, stand them up. Time is a-wasting and my tummy is rumbling.” Mother Christmas (Mary, as you know) recognised the symptoms. Old Grandfather Grumpy was about to manifest himself. She sent for another bottle of sloe gin to placate her husband in the best-known manner.

It took some effort before the Elves were sure that the twins would be able to maintain their footing.

“Well done, My Fine Elves, but we can’t leave them like that.” Old Father Christmas was already in a better mood. With some less than subtle Elf-booted-assistance, the twins were soon seated. Chris was, more-or-less sitting in Martin’s lap except that his arse was on the floor. Four legs were splayed; at least the twins might now be stable. The rope between their legs, however, became instantly more demanding.

Job done, Elf Bramblethorn announced, “Father Christmas, Mother Christmas, Fairies, Elves, - and others: and now, the grand reveal!” The self-appointed compare turned to Fairy Gossamer. “Give us a hand with the gnome, Love.” Fairy Gossamer rolled her eyes; Elf Bramblethorn is not known for his political correctness. She did, however, position herself ready but she considered that she ought to change. The delicate, floaty, costume was obviously not going to be suitable for the job in hand. I would not like to cast aspersions, but she is very versatile. Both of her alternative personae are very popular among certain Elves (and not a few Faries). She had a choice: Daisy Duke or Miss Exotica Stormtrooper.


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Post by Xtc »

And now a word from our sponsor

Just about slipped this episode in by Old Twelvie (Calendar slipped by one more day last year).

OK, so what persona should Fairy Gossamer adopt?

There are two more episodes that should have been posted by now. I need to complete them and I shall try to post them soon even though they are out of season.

Sorry, but the lack of reaction this year indicates that the current tale should probably be the last one. Let's see if there is any interest in the planned next adventure.

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Post by Xtc »

NB
Found lots of cock-ups.
Have re-posted last episode.
SORRY!
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Post by tiedinbluetights »

Hmm. Not sure what persona Fairy Gossamer should adopt. All I can say is that while I have much respect for Father Christmas, in my corner of the world my most profound and sincerest admiration goes to the Star Fairy (La Fée des étoiles) ;)
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Ah, not one of the Fairies with whom I am acquainted.
I presume she accompanies Pere Noel in Quebec.
Perhaps she could appear in any later episodes.
Do you have any background information?
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THE REAL FATHER CHRISTMAS AND HIS ELVES


Time For a Change



A little giggle preceded the transformation. The delicate little Fairy grew until a slender leather-girl appeared. The peaked cap was pulled down over her eyes and numerous decorative chains twinkled brightly. Those leather trousers certainly made the best of her figure. “Eyes back in their sockets, boys, this is only business garb.” That was rather what certain of the Elves were hoping for.

A few words were shared with the reluctant guests. They concerned what could be positioned in their mouths if they didn’t shut up. There was a noticeable, if possibly short-lived, silence. The tape holding the bauble in Martin’s mouth was stripped from the bag enclosing his head. Fairy Gossamer removed Kevin’s gag while Elf Oakwood had to be more careful. He did not want to spoil the great reveal. It was awkward removing the bauble from Chris’s mouth without lifting the bag from his eyes. A quick application of tinsel round where his eyes were helped out there. The bauble was soon dislodged and the tinsel removed once more. Sarcastic cheers rose form the audience. The Elf even had the grace to bow to acknowledge the reaction from the assembled company.

Once the audience had settled again, Elf Bramblethorn counted, “One, two, THREE!” Two bags and his own maltreated cap were lifted theatrically. Even those three ‘hard men’ were impressed. Fairy Gossamer tossed the erstwhile gnome hat to Elf Bramblethorn. He reinstated its proper form and was soon formally attired again.

“Here, your’e Father Christmas,” gasped a gob-smacked Chris eventually. Well, something like that, in any case. What he really said was, “’Ere, Yaw Faavver Cwismas.” What Kevin said was less repeatable.

“But of course, I am.” He knew that he wasn’t exactly dealing with the brightest candles on the Christmas tree. That’s what made him appear to the yobbos in the red outfit that they would expect to see. “Now, have you been very good boys this year?” They certainly had not and had no idea what to say. Once those psychic videos had played out before them for everyone to see, all hope departed. Kevin was obviously too handy with his fists. The twins could intimidate any victim who was larger than either of them individually. These kids were certainly not going to be missed.

“Well, my young fellows, looks as if the good people of your town wouldn’t miss you very much. I see that you are not going to deny what you have done?” There was obviously no point in doing so. The twins were obviously the muscle and, compared to them, Kevin was the brains. He was a little guy that had spent all his life making sure he compensated for it by violent means. The twins were easily led and, even without their two reformed former leaders, simply followed Kevin.

The guilty men confessed to sample charges. Father Christmas suggested that they might stay for some time to atone. I don’t think the twins knew what that meant but they certainly didn’t think it was anything good. The Elves suggested that the Fairies could do with some help in the workshop. The three thugs could help transferring the newly manufactured presents into store. That met with general approval from most present. The dissenting three votes didn’t seem to count. Elf Bindweed said that he had an idea for something else that they could do as well. The Elves loaded the newly stuffed present sacks onto the sleigh/trolley again. As they were about to leave, Old Father Christmas seemed to remember something. He started speaking in Russian, or so it seemed to the ‘Muscleman’.


Good News for Yevgeny



“Ah Yevgeny, have you been a very good boy since you have been here?” He could hardly answer until Fairy Snowflake winked an eye and shrugged her opposite shoulder. The absurd moustache and attached unpleasantly large ball gag simply dissolved into the air. “Thank you, My Good Fairy.”

“Well, Yevgeny, aren’t you going to thank the good Fairy?” Poor Yevgeny, he didn’t know what to do. Should he thank his comforter first or should he say how good he had been?

“Thank you, Ma’am.” Fairy Snowflake giggled. Obviously, all those present could understand what the lad was trying to say. “Yes, Old Grandfather Frost, I have been very good boy.” Indeed, he had; he’d had no choice. He had been tethered to that ‘sleigh’ every day for weeks. Even when he had been released from his labours for the night, he had been caged. The fact that the cage was shaped like an igloo with bars over the entrance was of little comfort.

“And what will you have to say to your little sister when you get home?” Yevgeny picked up the implication: he was obviously ready to be returned home. He had obviously had some time to think about what to say and he even sounded quite convincing. Not only that but, as always, nobody would even have been aware that he had gone missing. Elf Fireweed, who had been ‘looking after’ him, stepped forward and Yevgeny started worrying. The Elf simply released the tormenting tinsel that tethered the boy’s wrists to the trolley. He was completely untethered for the first time in weeks. Elf Fireweed suggested that he might just care to, “Step into this cosy present sack”. He was almost happy to do so once he was told he was going home. He did wonder, though, how he would explain his bizarre attire to his family.

“He doesn’t get it, does he?”

“Oh, he soon will.” The Elves and Fairies nodded. “Just wait until I tie this sack. Don’t bother to thank me. I won’t be able to hear you.” Sure enough, as soon as the sack was closed and before it was lifted from the ground, it happened. The embarrassing leotard was no longer there. Instead, Yevgeny wore just the boxer-briefs in which he was originally abducted. The journey home took no time at all before he woke up in his own bed. I understand that, if he was nasty to her from then on, Yanna knew exactly what to say. She simply had to ask him what the North Pole was like, and he quickly pulled his horns in.


The New Engine Unit



The sleigh was in need of a new engine but, at that time of year, there was no shortage of choice. Elf Yewtree suggested, “That little wazzock who Elf Bindweed is ‘looking after’.” He had been keeping the occupants of the flats where he lived awake by slamming doors. Not such a bad thing, you might think. But he did it between the hours of midnight and three o’clock in the morning, EVERY night! Then he would commence guitar practice. (He didn’t often make it to school.) Elf Bindweed went to collect his unwilling helper. It took a couple of minutes as he prepared him. First, the usual ‘explanation’ about cooperation was issued; the marks would soon fade. Then he was dressed. It would not do for the entire Throne Room to see him in his current state of undress.

“Right-oh mush, we’re going to see the Boss again. Ready?” Aaron wasn’t ready, not all the while he was dressed as Adam was before he ate the apple. “Oh yes, silly me; you want to be clothed. What about a maid? Nah, why not a baby? A reindeer?” As the Elf named the possible ‘costumes’, Aaron could see himself in each one in turn. He was not happy. “Nah, I know: what about a horsey?”

Elf Bindweed found a sort of harness and showed it to Aaron. It took very little explaining. The bit was pulled hard back into his mouth and secured by a network of straps. There were even blinkers attached to the sides and a plume on the top. The reins had been attached and rolled-up out of the way. All that was needed was to unchain Aaron from the metal ring in the wall. His hands were already cuffed in front of him to allow him to work for Elf Bindweed. The Elf asked Aaron if he had truly understood his previous explanation. If not, he was quite prepared to repeat it. Aaron nodded frantically. In the light of such assurances, the Elf thought that he could leave his helper’s hands as they were.

“OK Boy, Gee up.” With those words Elf Bindweed grabbed Aaron’s left arm and dragged him forwards. Elf Bindweed was surprised when his horse resisted. “Oh, silly me.” The horse driver didn’t sound exactly sincere. “Now, what should our little horsey wear?”

Each suggestion, as Aaron saw it, looked more and more embarrassing. He was almost glad when Elf Bindweed settled on a sort of white kilt. Aaron thought it would be alright all the while he was standing. Then Elf Bindweed winked an eye and shrugged a shoulder. He declared that that was better, as painted patches appeared on the boy’s pale body. “Fairy Snowflake has always wanted a skewbald. I wonder if you’ve got a pedigree. Never mind, you’ll not be doing any racing. Hope you’re strong, though.” Aaron had the kilt buckled round his waist; even that now had matching brown patches. He only hoped he would not be forced to lift his ‘hooves’ high as he walked.

“That’s better, cl, cl, cl. Let’s go, boy.” Elf Bindweed took his skewbald horse by the bridle. It took only a couple of minutes to reach the Throne Room.

“Ho, ho, ho!” And who do we have here?” As if Old Father Christmas didn’t know; it would not be necessary to remove the bit. Elf Bindweed simply honoured the assembled company with a quick account of Aaron’s misdeeds. The evidential video showed, making him pleasantly uncomfortable. He shuffled around quite a lot. Elf Bindweed gave him a quick back-hander to the midriff and told him to kneel. Aaron wasted no time doing so.

Fairy Snowflake asked if Elf Bindweed wanted a riding crop. She always looked after her Elf.

“Ho, ho, ho! My dear young Fairy, I am sure that will not be necessary. I’m sure he wants to behave, don’t you, young man?” Aaron nodded – a lot! “There, I told you so.” Nevertheless, Fairy Snowflake handed her Elf the riding crop. At least, it looked like a riding crop to Aaron; to all others present, it looked like a large candy cane.

“And how has our young guest been behaving since he has been here?”

“He’s a bit better behaved now; a right little sod initially. Ooops, pardon my French.”

“So, the young skewbald here is going to be with us for quite some time yet?”

“I’m afraid so, Old Father Christmas, but he is getting better. Aren’t you, Skewball?” Arron nodded in a very animated manner. “Yeah, at this rate, he’ll be home before Christmas.” Aaron dared to hope. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you boy?” The condescending tone was matched with a scruffing of ‘Skewball’s mane’. Aaron must have been improving because he managed not to react.

“Ho, ho, ho! Then I suppose you two had better get back to work.” Father Christmas then addressed anybody who might be able to help. “I don’t suppose there’s any of that sloe gin left?”

Aaron was told to stand and ducked under the pole to which Yevgeny had been attached. He grasped the pole and Elf Bramblethorn took some of that lush golden tinsel in hand. It was actually, hemp rope, of course, but in the throne room, everything had to look jolly.

Elf Bramblethorn tied ‘Skewball’ to the sleigh/trolley and unrolled the reins. Obviously, the reins were not really needed but they did have humiliation value. Aaron awaited his instructions almost patiently. Elves Bramblethorn and Oakwood climbed aboard. Being generous, they offered Elf Bindweed and Fairy Snowflake a lift. Skewball was getting worried about the weight he was ging to have to drag back to the workshop.

Elf Bramblethorn snapped the reins. “OK, Skewball, cl-cl, gee-up.” Aaron took the strain. Three Elves, one Fairy (and Baby Snowdrop) sat back. Three yobbos had no idea what was going on., Aaron was amazed, the sleigh moved with much less effort than he had assumed. Elf Bindweed was proud of his product but he knew that it was now old technology. The party was soon transported to Elf Bramblethorn’s workshop.



TBC
They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
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