Finela carefully squeezed the pastry bag. A fine line of red frosting slowly oozed from the tip to outline the sugar cookie on the stainless table in front of her. "Damn! This is the ten millionth cookie this year. Why can't they give me something better to do like making toys?" she thought. "But then that old fat fart is totally chauvinist. 'A lady elf's place is in the kitchen, Finela'. Bullshit!" With a smile and an evil giggle, she wondered if anyone had noticed that she had put cocks on the Ginger Bread Men this year.
When Finela finished the last cookie on her table, we walked to the ladies lounge for a break. The lounge was deserted. Finela sat on the cheap fake-leather couch and pulled a Barbie Doll she had pinched from the production line over in "Dolls" from her shoulder pouch. She raised her skirt and began rubbing her clit with the doll.
Leaning back on the couch, mouth open, breath coming in short gasps; Finela enjoyed her break to the fullest. She screamed when she came with Barbie's head stuffed up her pussy all the to the doll's knees. "Wow," she thought. I'll send this doll over to "Wrapping" so another girl can get off on Barbie." Finela pulled down her skirt.
Just then, Wanda from the Administration Office came into the lounge. "Hey, Finela. Did you hear? The old fat fart is bitching because he says the Barbie Dolls smell like Elf pussy. What do you think of that?"
"Gee. I don't know. Maybe it has something to do with the plastic or something," Finela said innocently.
"Yeah, well. He's mighty pissed. And someone has been slipping condoms in with the GI Joe dolls too. Looks like someone's going to get fired in that department."
"Oh really? I wonder who could have done that?" Finela tried to look as angelic as possible.
"Well, Tull, the department head, is in with Fucker Claus right now. I could hear the screaming."
Finela chuckled to herself. She hated Tull with a passion. "Did you hear anything about my transfer request?" She knew Tull was the bastard who had the transfer held up on his desk.
"I spoke to the fat fuck about it earlier this morning, Finela. He said you'll get your transfer when hell freezes over. Sorry, kid."
"Maybe, I'll have to talk to him myself then," thought Finela.
Later, Finela milled around in front of the Bosses office thinking about what to say to him to convince him to approve her transfer. After careful thought and no real ideas, she knocked on his door.
"Come (*chomp*) in," came the voice the The Claus
Finela opened the door. Santa Claus sat behind his big, oak desk devouring the last of one of the fruit cakes, Finela had sabotaged a few days before. "Well, you gotta go, you gotta go," she laughed silently.
"Like the fruit cake, Boss?" she asked seriously. "It was a 'special' batch I whipped up."
"Yummy, Finela. Wish I could have them all the time."
"What would be your most ardent wish, Mr. C?" asked Finela seriously.
The Claus stared at Finela for a moment mulling over in his mind if he should confide it her. Finally, he said, "It's Mrs. Claus. Talk about being ''on the rag'! I've never seen anyone like her. Damn, I haven't had a piece of ass since 1946."
"That ain't what I heard, Mr. C," interjected Finela. "I heard a rumor about you and a certain red-nose quadruped."
"Well. You can't really count that. After all, how was I supposed to know that cocksucker, Rudolph, was the type to kiss and tell," The Claus grimaced.
"Yeah well. I think he's a bitch personally. It bothers me how he's constantly polishing the brown off his nose and all."
"So, why are you here, Finela?"
"Look Mr. C. I really need to get transferred out of "Cookies & Cakes". That place is driving me nuts. And, damn! I've been there since the 1850's." Finela frowned at the thought.
"Hmm. But you are such a good baker. I hate to lose you, Finela," The Clause remarked, rubbing his cock through his red trousers.
"Look, Claus. I see what you are doing with your cock. Approve my transfer and I'll give you a helping hand." Finela grinned broadly.
The Claus considered the idea. "No, Finela. Here's the deal. Blow job now. And get me laid...I mean really laid and you got your transfer."
"Well, a BJ is ok, but I ain't fucking no fat guys," Finela said wearily. "Especially fat guys with a fake-ass wig like The Claus wore," she thought.
"No. And I ain't really into none of your Elf poontang either. Elf snatch stinks to high heaven. Which reminds me. Do you know who's been stinking up the Barbie Dolls?"
"Umm. Barbie Dolls? Umm. No. Of course not, Mr. C. Why would I know anything about that?" stammered Finela.
"Well, I was just wondering. You know about everyone around the North Pole. I thought you might have heard something."
"Okay. I think we have a deal, Claus," Finela said changing the subject and getting down on her knees.
Claus unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock. Finela stared at The Claus' three inch cock for a moment. "No fucking wonder he can't get laid. I'd be pissed off too," she thought rolling her eyes. Reaching for The Claus, less than impressive, cock and began to stroke it.
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