Santa and Rudolph

As a big thank you to our biggest patrons, here are the two final sketches for December! Santa's checking his gains twice and Rudolph learns that competitive eating is totally a reindeer game! Thanks for your support everyone, and Happy Holidays!

Santa was pleasantly surprised by the results of the night, as he was pretty certain he was going to hate working Krampus’ job. Sneaking around in the dark, no cookies, no sleigh, and worst part of all, he was supposed to punish children; it went against everything he believed in. A bet was a bet, however, and Santa Claus was a man of his word. While Krampus went out and delivered his presents to the children of the world, the old goat went around to punish naughty children. But Krampus’ usual methods were a bit… draconian for the old saint’s tastes, so he did away with birch switches and the child-sized sacks. He would try disciplining with a lighter touch, even if it meant more work on his part. 

He spent all night running and ducking in the dark, hauling a massive sack of coal on his back, heavy books and some strongly worded letters under his free arm. Coal in the stocking and textbooks instead of toys should get the message across, Santa wagered, even if it was the workout of a lifetime. Between the massive weight he carried around, breaking down doors, running from house to house- it nearly did him in, if not for the Christmas magic that practically flowed through his veins. In fact, that was the one very big reward out of the whole experience; without milk and cookies, pent up Christmas magic had to keep him going, and it did so by changing his body, powering his muscles and cutting down fat that had been built up over the centuries of gorging on cookies.

The result was Santa Claus felt two hundred years younger, and that he could probably bench-press his sleigh, with reindeer, presents and all. His snowy white fur made his newly built, pumped muscles look as if they were chiselled from marble; he had to tear off the sleeves of his red coat, just to accommodate biceps the size of yule logs, and triceps thick as fruit cake. His shoulders were like snow-capped mountains after hauling so much tremendous weight, the peak of a billowing back that spread out like a glacier, rippling with swells of muscle. His chest jutted out past his muzzle, a place for his thick beard to rest against the cleft of his canyon-like pecs. Santa was convinced he would be able to give great hugs after tonight. 

He also stood on a very solid foundation; his core was a set of brick-sized abs, and what remained of his trousers was little more than shorts, gift-wrapped over a pair of thick, bun-like glutes and thighs bulging with strength enough to pull his own sleigh, rolling against one another and forcing him into a swaggering gait. Calves like Christmas hams were stuffed into sturdy leather boots, finishing him off. Not a bit of his physique had been neglected, and as he tramped through the snow towards the North Pole, Santa couldn’t wait to see the look on Mrs. Claus’ face when she saw him. 

As it turns out, saving Christmas with a glowing red nose was more than enough qualification to finally be allowed to participate in the Reindeer Games, and Rudolph was bursting with excitement.

“I can’t wait! My first time to compete in the Games!” Rudolph let out a joyous giggle, his nose lighting up in excitement. The trim reindeer’s tail was going nuts as he beamed at Blitzen.

“You should really calm down, man. First Games, don’t freak out too much.” The older reindeer rolled his eyes, cracking his neck. Blitzen currently held the Games’ record for deadlifting, his body padded with powerful muscle, limbs thick and meaty.

“Come on, Blitzen! I’ve been waiting for ages to get to do this. I’m allowed to be excited! Weren’t you for the first time?”

Smirking softly the older deer tapped Rudolph on the nose. “I was, but I didn’t win anything. So you should keep your expectations reasonable, newbie.”

Rudolph snuffled at the tap before sticking his tongue out at his teammate. Oh he was going to win something today. He hadn’t proven himself capable of being part of the team just to get left behind again.

Unfortunately what the newest member of Santa’s team had neglected to consider was his coworkers had been competing in the games for quite some time. So when Rudolph faltered at the deadlift while Blitzen broke his own record, nobody was surprised. When Comet lapped the young deer in a race, the crowd of deer and elves expected it. When Prancer performed a beautiful gymnastics routine, it was fairly par for the course. All of which only served to fuel Rudolph’s frustration.

“There has to be something I can win!” Grabbing a pamphlet with the itinerary for the Games he frowned, only one event was left. A fruitcake eating contest. Nobody likes fruitcake, it was more a joke contest than anything. But it was still one to win…

As the deer took to a stage, planting themselves on benches, Rudolph took a breath. Looking at the loaf of fruitcake in front of him he grimaced. Nobody liked it, but this was his chance to shine. As a whistle blew he reached out and grabbed for the loaf, opening wide. Digging into the fruitcake he grunted, the taste almost sickeningly sweet. Still determination was what pushed him to force down the holiday dish. The other reindeer were taking their time, more picking at their dishes, but not Rudolph. He had torn apart his first plate and was grabbing another.

The crowd watched in something akin to shocked fascination as the recent hero of Christmas choked down fruitcake after fruitcake. The deer was cramming his mouth and it was having a definite effect. Rudolph’s body was beginning to round out, growing padded as he gorged on the dessert. Even the other deer stopped, watching the buck’s sides billow out, rolls of fat developing as his posterior spread, oozing across the bench he sat on.

Rudolph grunted as he shifted around, his belly pushing the table back as he called for another fruitcake. His cheeks were puffed out, a cascade of chins running down to meet a growing ring of neck fat while he chewed. Fingers thickened while he used them to push more pastry into his maw, groaning as he forced himself to swallow the nearly gooey fruitcake. It wasn’t until his belly finally knocked the table far enough away for him to reach his food that anything registered as wrong. Of course that was just in time for the bench beneath him to collapse. Two cheeks the size of beach balls quivered as he hit the stage, thunder thighs spread by a belly bigger than Santa’s sack of gifts. The impact forced a deafening belch from Rudolph as he let out a pained groan.

“So...do I win?”