Miracle on Slutty 4th Street Ch. 07

Patrice had worked for the previous administration, simply as a cog on the wheel at one of the toy factories. But when the turnover occurred, Patrice was one of the first to get on board with Beatrice. Patrice was too logical and too independent to enjoy the old fashioned ways of the old Mrs. Claus, when things could be done so much better. That, combined with Agatha's conservative outlook on a great many things, such as her strict no contact rules with the people of the world, never sat right with her. When Beatrice gave her first speech detailing her outlook on things, while some were nervous, Patrice was nodding along vigorously. She was eager to sign up, and eager to go along, quickly becoming a trusted ally of the new boss, which is how she ended up with such an easy route on Christmas.

Because of the ease of her route through Deerberg, it allowed room for training. This was Morgan's first year running gifts on Christmas. Patrice was a pro at this point. She'd be the perfect person to learn from if she wasn't so severe and intimidating. Morgan felt like she was kinda walking on eggshells around Patrice, at times. That being said, she was doing her best to impart her knowledge to the young blonde, but it came at a bit of a struggle, as Morgan was something of a ditz. But Patrice trusted her abilities enough to know she could get the blonde into tip-top shape.

Not all the female elves who wanted to run gifts met Beatrice's strict standards physically. They did have options, though, as their access to magic gave them the ability to make certain... enhancements... to their figures. Only certain elves among them could perform these enhancements, so the cost was steep, to the point where some of them opted to go down south and get these enhancements done the human way. But for both Patrice and Morgan, no enhancements were required. Both of them were blessed with hot bodies, making them perfect for the job.

That being said, Patrice was very much questioning the choice to bring Morgan aboard. She had the body for it, sure, but, well... let's just say, she wasn't quite a natural at the job.

"No... not that one... Morgan!" Patrice warned as she watched Morgan taking gifts to the wrong stockings. Morgan looked back at her with a vacant, confused look across her beautiful face, a look that Patrice was already getting annoyed by. Patrice pointed at which gifts went where, having to stop her a few times till she finally got things right. Patrice turned away and rolled her eyes.

This was much easier with a competent coworker. With her previous partner, they had this whole thing down like clockwork. The process was simple, or at least, it should be simple. You park the reindeer on the roof. They didn't need such contrivances as chimneys to get into a house, as their magic allows them to apparate inside as long as they were in close enough proximity. Once inside, they put down protection charms to make sure they weren't caught in the act, then they got right down to business. With one of them on the list, and the other handing the gifts out, two totally prepared elves could knock out a house like a well-oiled machine. Working with Morgan... let's just say, things were not going smoothly for Patrice.

Morgan was trying, Patrice could grant her that. She was doing her best, but she was clearly nervous. They didn't know each other that well before being assigned together, and they'd only had a few personal conversations about their lives. All Patrice knew was that Morgan was a bit of a party girl, and she would often jump on one of the transport sleighs so she could party in one of the cities among actual people. Patrice wasn't too impressed by any of the conversations she'd had with Morgan, but every so often, Morgan would say some comment or allude to something she did with a guy that made Patrice think there might be more going on with her than what met the eye. But for the most part, her initial impression of the blonde had been proven accurate.

Taking her attention off Morgan for a moment, Patrice looked back at the list and shook her head. Looking over the profiles for the Carroll family, there was so much wasted potential here. Dan, Frank, Kevin... they were all fine-ass white men, just her type. Even the younger one, Max, he was damn hot too. If she wasn't stuck babysitting Morgan, she might take the time to wake one of them up for some dirty Christmas fun. Beatrice certainly approved of this type of thing, the spreading of Christmas spirit, but Patrice was enough of a pro at her job to stay focused on the task at hand. Although, looking at these profiles again... damn, what a waste.

These brothers seemed to share a common flaw, one of marrying, boring, dreary, flat-chested women. Even the former cheerleader, Denise, wasn't exactly impressive up top, which to Patrice seemed like a prerequisite. All those guys could do so much better if they just tried. Probably didn't help that their mom, Doris, was a loser just like their wives. And Dan was passing on this character flaw to his son, as he was with some boring little thing too. The only one in this house that seemed to know the score was Gwen, Dan's daughter. But even she needed a bit of a push.

The gift selection for this bunch was pretty boring, for the most part. Coal for Doris and the wives. Candy canes for the men, the special kind, obviously, just so they start thinking with the right head. The only interesting one was the one for Gwen. Patrice grabbed the small box meant for her and glanced at the attached note.

'I saw this and couldn't help but think how good it would look on you.

Love,

Dad'

Patrice smirked as she glanced at the contents of the box. They had some great handwriting specialists up north, so this note looked exactly like her father's penmanship. Turning around, Patrice grabbed a small bag and sauntered over to the blonde.

"Here," she said, handing over the bag of coal to the blonde. "Put these in the women's stockings. I've got to take this upstairs." Morgan nodded, but somehow, even at such a simple order, she looked nervous.

Turning around and rolling her eyes, Patrice stepped away, heels clicking on the floor. She wasn't too worried about the noise, as their magical protective charms muffled the noise they made to other people. Still, she didn't want to push her luck. Ascending the stairs lightly, boobs shaking in their tight confines, she moved across the second floor towards the narrow staircase leading up to the third floor, moving towards the small room Gwen was in.

Most gifts ended up either under the tree, or in a stocking, but occasionally, some required special instructions. In this case, this gift had to be left in her room, as it required a certain level of... privacy. Luckily, Patrice was good at this, deftly sliding up to the young woman's room and setting the gift down near her, in a place she couldn't miss it come morning. Moving to exit the bedroom, she closed the door without making a noise. Proud at her silence, she began heading back downstairs, the only sign of her presence a near imperceptible whine of the floorboards beneath her boot-clad feet as she walked past the bedrooms on the second floor. But it was enough.

In a nearby room, a pair of eyes opened.

************

Frank was a pretty light sleeper. He put it to his cop training, as even on his off days, he could never quite turn his cop brain off. So, sometimes, even the slightest noise could wake him and set off his alarm bells.

The creak of the floor was enough.

Eyes opened, he gathered his bearings enough to listen for a repeat of the noise that woke him. He heard it! Another creak. A bit farther away. Sounded like someone walking away. Listening close, he heard the sounds of someone walking down the stairs. He figured it was one of the kids, or maybe Tim, spying out the Christmas gifts under the tree. Glancing through the dark towards the other end of the room, he made sure Christiana was still asleep in her little mini bed she was using. And yes, he could see her clumped up in the sheet. Frank shook his head and tried to ignore the sounds and just go back to sleep. He closed his eyes, almost fading back into slumber, before a new sound carried up from downstairs, a subtle one, one you probably wouldn't hear unless you were listening for it.

Voices. A conversation.

Frank sat up, confused, glancing at the clock. It was too late for anyone to be up, let alone talking. His cop brain began working. There were robbers in the house, stealing gifts from under the tree! The perfect night for a big haul! No. No. No. Don't be ridiculous. It would be stupid to break into a house with so many cars parked out front. Plus, Deerberg wasn't known for a lot of break-ins. There was no doubt a reasonable explanation for the noises. Maybe one of the kids got up, and their parent caught them. Or maybe his mom was still up, and someone else heard and joined her. It had to be something like that. Frank didn't want to revert to cop mode at his mom's house in the middle of the night. He just wanted to relax and go to sleep, trying to ignore any doubts and get some rest.

Two minutes later, Frank angrily sat up out of bed, mad at himself for not letting it go. He had to check it out, make sure the coast was clear, just so he could get some peace of mind. He thought about the possibility, no matter how small, that there were some burglars in the house. If that was the case, he wasn't about to head down unprepared. He hadn't brought his weapon into the house, preferring to leave it in the trunk of his car. But even if he had, he was not about to walk through the house with a loaded gun, not with such so many people around, and not for a situation that was most likely nothing. But he didn't want to be unprepared. Considering that he was currently staying in his old room, he knew that his old baseball bat was in the closet. Retrieving it as silently as possible, he slipped out of the room, moving to head downstairs.

Stepping down the stairs, barefoot, wearing thin pajama pants and an old t-shirt, bat held in his hand, he tried to calm his mind. But as he got closer to the first floor, the voices began to get clearer. And he realized that these voices were unfamiliar. Holy Shit! They were getting broken into. His cop brain now activated, he stepped silently down the rest of the stairs and moved to the edge of the living room, out of sight behind a wall. He could see that a light had been turned on in the living room, and he could hear voices coming from within. And now, he could listen in.

"You about done?" one voice said, a female voice, firm and commanding.

"Uh... yeah, I think," said another female voice, this one a bit ditzy. What? Two women had broken in. That wasn't what he expected.

"Morgan, no, that's the mom's stocking! That goes in the daughter's stocking!" the first voice said, annoyed.

"Oh, shit! Sorry, sorry!" the ditzy voice said. Frank was confused. Who were these two? Taking a chance, Frank peeked around the corner, not knowing what to expect. And what he saw... it certainly wasn't what he imagined.

The two burglars were indeed women. But, they weren't dressed like any burglars he'd ever seen. They were dressed like Christmas Elves. But... not normal Christmas elves. They were... well, quite frankly, they looked like strippers. Strippers in sexy Christmas outfits, barely covering anything. Frank couldn't explain why they would dress like this. Seemed impractical for the task at hand. But he didn't have time to think much about it. He was distracted by the bodies those outfits were barely covering.

Look... Frank was a married man. Happily married. But he was still a man, and he wasn't immune to the occasional glance at a pretty lady. He didn't make it a habit, obviously, and his wife was probably more likely to spur him into looking at a hot woman they came across than he would himself. But in this case, staring at these two women in his mother's home, wearing what they were wearing, no one would blame him.

His eyes fell first to the blonde woman. On her feet were a pair of long black leather boots, up to her knees. Above them was a generous sight of her bare, golden tanned legs, the flesh smooth and firm. That led to her skirt, a slim, ultra-tight, stretchy skirt, barely covering her ass. The material was glued to her rear end, showing off its round, full, perfect shape. Above that was more bare, golden skin, as her entire midriff was left exposed. Flat, and taut, and sexy, his eyes were temporarily arrested by her exposed navel. But his eyes didn't remain there long, as they drifted upwards to her amazing breasts.

Frank wasn't one to be overly affected by such things, but damn... they were huge. Vaulting off her slim frame, round and full and firm, Frank couldn't even begin to guess their size. And her top, a stretchy, rubbery latex type thing, which looked like a sexed-up version of a Santa Jacket, molded to her big jugs, clinging to their perfect, round shape. The top forced her big breasts together, forming a massive canyon of deep cleavage, her tanned tits pressing into each other in the best way. And the top was very low-cut, scooping low to show off some skin, clinging to the front of her boobs like a bikini top would, doing enough to cover up from the bottom of her breast to just above her nipples and not the slightest bit more. Her boobs were oozing over the edges of the clingy top, and each step she took made them jiggle as they strained to escape.

Frank was able to find the iron will to look up at her face, only to find her face held up its end of the bargain, as beautiful as the rest of her. Shiny blonde hair, falling to her shoulders. Smooth, golden complexion. Alluring eyes. Plump, silky lips. She was a bit over made-up, with a lot of eye shadow and heavy gloss on her pouty lips, but it matched the stripper-like image she was presenting. The only thing that looked relatively normal about her was the puffy red Santa hat on her head.

To his surprise, it seemed like she wasn't taking anything, but was in fact putting some wrapped gifts under the tree. And as she walked away from Frank's vantage towards the tree, she spoke up.

"I'm still not used to these outfits," the blonde said, tugging down at her skirt, preventing it from exposing her ass.

"Get used to it," the other woman said, barely paying attention to her blonde friend. For the first time, Frank looked at this other woman. And if his eyes went wide at the sight of the blonde, his eyes grew as big as half-dollars at the sight of her.

She was stunning. Absolutely stunning. A tall, fit, gorgeous black woman, with dark, smooth skin. She stood out. She was clad in a matching outfit to her blonde friend, but it somehow looked even better on her. She was taller, so more of her long, firm legs were exposed. Her skirt was just as tight and skimpy, but this woman had an even shapelier, rounder ass than her blonde friend. And the tight skirt was struggling to contain that much booty. Her fit stomach was taut and smooth with a subtle line of feminine muscle. God, she was sexy.

And then there were her breasts.

Wow. Just... wow. The blonde's boobs were huge. But somehow, the black woman's tits were even bigger. They looked insanely huge, especially on her fit body. Her top was struggling to contain such massive breasts, stretched out so far from her chest that if you looked from beneath her, you could see some bare titty-meat. Her cleavage was a fucking mile long, it seemed, deep and dark, her huge black tits pressed together in an inescapable crevasse of pure softness. The soft, smooth flesh was pouring out of its tight constraints. It was a wonder that such massive tits could be contained by such a skimpy garment. Her rack was exerting so much force that Frank could practically see the single button holding the top together straining, trying to not to fly off and free those titties to the world.

He wasn't normally a guy to get so enraptured by a pair of tits like this. Sure, he liked big boobs as much as the next guy, but this woman... well, both of these girls... they were on another level. Plus, they were here at his mom's house, a place they didn't belong, dressed as they were, with their tits just pouring out of their outfits... anyone would be momentarily mesmerized.

But finally, Frank was able to pull his tractor beam-like gaze from the black woman's big breasts, looking up at her face. She was gorgeous as well, with sharp, intelligent eyes, and smooth, pillow-like lips, forming a natural sneer. She seemed far more stern and cold than her blonde friend, only adding to her appeal. The only thing that cut through this image was the Santa's hat on her head, the exact same as her friend's.

Who were these two? What were they doing? Why were they dressed like this? What was going on here? Well... Frank wasn't about to wait and find out. Steeling himself, he turned the corner, stepping into the living room.

"What are you doing here?" Frank called out. With his voice breaking the silence, the blonde nearly jumped out of her skin, turning to face him with wide eyes. The black woman's eyes lifted up from what she was doing, looking at the man who had just stepped in the room.

For a woman who was always so confident and in control, even Patrice was taken aback by this sudden intrusion. In the few years she'd been doing this, she'd never been caught. Not even close. But suddenly, right at the beginning of the night, she'd been caught. How?

Frank watched as the black woman's head tilted and her eyes narrowed. She began glancing around the room, searching out for a vague something, before a revelation hit her.

"Did you forget to do the silence charm?" she asked to her blonde friend. The blonde's eyes went wide as an embarrassed look crossed her face. The black woman stared her down. "Have you forgotten it the entire night?" she asked, upset, and the blonde's cheeks reddened. "Have we been doing all our deliveries with zero silence charms? Morgan! Any of them could have caught us!"

"I... I'm sorry, Patrice!" the blonde, Morgan, said. "I forgot!" She remembered all the other spells. The various protective spells, like the bubble spell, which prevented people from beyond a certain distance away from seeing them. And the spells that helped them get their job done, like the slowdown spell, which made time pass slower for them as they did their work inside houses, passing out gifts, only progressing normally when they were outside. But for some reason, Morgan just forgot about the silence spell.

"You forgot?" the black woman, Patrice, said, stepping towards her. Frank couldn't help but notice her huge black boobs jiggle as she did so.

"Hey!" Frank interrupted, clearing his head, getting back to the point. "What are you doing here?" he asked firmly. Both of them looked at him, unable to find any words. "Answer me!" he demanded, quietly but firmly. Patrice was a pro at this, but she'd never had to deal with being caught, and her blood was pumping in momentary panic. She couldn't gather her thoughts quick enough, allowing the blonde to interject.

"We're elves," Morgan stated, as if this was a reasonable reply. "We're delivering gifts for Santa... for Christmas." She put on a slight smile, hoping to cool Frank's anger. At the same moment, as she grinned at the man who caught them, she unconsciously brought her arms forward against her breasts, making them balloon outward against the tight, stretchy constraints of her top.

"What?" he asked, confused, trying not to look at her tanned cleavage.

"OH!" Morgan began, seeing his confusion. "Santa's real. We live at the North Pole. And we help him deliver gifts!" She explained helpfully, putting on a big, seemingly friendly grin. A silence fell in the room as Patrice elbowed the blonde in the side, annoyed at her for volunteering this information unbidden.