Mazaku and Vorax prepared quite a lovely feast for the arrival of Santa Claus, a feast that is truly fit for a king. However, two scheming raccoon brothers, a well known pair of thieves (albiet, bungling thieves) known as the Quick Brothers, plan to rob the place by disguising themselves as Santa and his little helper. But when Maz mistakes the two for the real deal, the Quick Brothers have to play along and, unfortunately, get more than their just deserts.

This is my entry for  Maddie's Secret Santa, with my recipient being  Maz Admittedly, I was struggling on this as I didn't know what to write. It wasn't till I was watching Home Alone that a bolt of inspiration struck me. I have a couple of characters that are thieves: Murray and Harlan Quick (As shown here https://i.imgur.com/5Ue8G9n.png ), but unlike Harry and Marv, they are much more inept and bungling at their occupation.

Hope you all enjoy!

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Christmas Eve comes in the big city with a calm, crisp wind, and everyone is getting ready for the big holiday. Even at the crack of dawn, people rush to malls and stores to finish up their holiday shopping, putting up decorations to show off their festive spirit, and of course, prepping their houses for the arrival of Santa Claus, who would no doubt be offering presents to all the good boys and girls (and coal for those that are naughty). Yes, it is undoubtedly quite a festive time to be celebrating the holiday dedicated to gift-giving and togetherness.

At a modest house decorated with festive lights and holiday cheer are two draconic brothers. One is Maz, a rather lanky and short dragon standing at only 5’3, green scales along with a pinkish tan countershading along his front and lower tail, topped off with long messy blackish brown hair that between his two backward curving horns, a goatee, and innocent brown eyes, which are often behind Windsor-style glasses. The little fella is merrily humming to himself as he works in the kitchen, preparing a feast for Santa’s arrival. “How’s the turkey coming along, Vorax?” He asks.

Vorax, his elder brother, is quite unlike Maz: He is over seven feet tall and well-built. He had clay-colored scales and a pale tan counter shade along his front and under the tail, small tufts of brown hair on his scalp, blue eyes, and, much like his younger brother, floppy ears. He’s much more suited for tailoring folks on the larger end (especially for Santa-sized folks), but he knows his way around the kitchen. Right now, he’s been busy stuffing the turkey. “Almost done,” he says, wiping sweat from his brow. “Just marinate the turkey and put it in the oven for it to cook.” He then looks at Maz with consternation. “You sure we need all this food for Santa? We’ve spent all of yesterday and today preparing for the big guy and his reindeer, and we aren’t even sure if the guy has that much of an appetite as you claim.”

Looking at the kitchen table, it is not hard to see why Vorax would suggest that. Whereas most folks would go with just the classic staple of cookies and milk, the two brothers, at Maz’s suggestion, went with cookies and milk… And basically, an entire Christmas Day feast meant for a family of ten. Side the 30lbs centerpiece (the weight of which is why Vorax insisted on working on the turkey), there was also sliced ham, creamy mashed potatoes, casseroles of different kinds like green bean and beef noodles, roasted vegetables, chicken Florentine, and of course, creamy butterscotch pies. Yes, it seems that throughout Christmas Eve and the day before, they prepared a holiday feast that’s more suited for a family of twelve just based on the contents. Santa Claus would bust a gut if they tried to finish this feast.
“I’m sure that Santa, reindeer, and his little helpers will be super appreciative of the effort we put in.” Maz beams at him. “After all, he’s known to have quite the appetite.”

Vor just chuckled, nodding. “Alright, Maz, I believe you. Let’s get this feast done before the sun sets.”

And throughout the day, they have accomplished that, toiling and laboring in the kitchen to make the perfect feast for the big jolly fella himself. With their piece de resistance finally completed, the two smiled at each other and headed upstairs to get ready for bed. Oh, if they only knew that they would certainly be having visitors, but it won’t be from Santa.
~*~
In the dead of night, outside of the household stood two raccoon brothers, a well-known pair of thieves known in the city as the Quick duo, who are more known for bungling than thievery. One is the older brother, Murray Quick, a short, slim raccoon of about 5’9, wearing a green elf costume with bells on shoes and a hat (which, of course, are modified to not jingle), with striped red and white stockings. “This is perfect.” Murray snickered deviously, clasping his paws together.

“Are you sure about this, Murray?” His younger brother, Harlan, asks. Unlike Murray, Harlan is quite the large fella, about 6’10 in stature, shorter than Vorax. Still, he makes up for that by being fat and heavy, hundreds of pounds heavy, with a protruding stomach making it hard for his Santa jacket and belt to contain his bulk (and that isn’t even to mention his thick arms stretching the fabric), tree truck like legs and thighs that make his pants nearly split at the seams and unable to hold in his bulging rump, topped off by a fake beard and his red hat. The guy looks like a Bonafide Santa. “Wouldn’t it make more sense for us to only be in black to blend in with the shadows?”

“Oh, little bro,” Murray responds, patting Harlan’s middle, causing his belly to jostle about, “you sweet, simple fella. It’s because it’ll make it too obvious, we’re master thieves! But if we disguise ourselves as Santa and his little helper,” he says, making a dancing jig to showcase his helper spirit, “then no one would suspect a thing!”

Harlan nods obediently, which makes sense to him; plus, he can’t help but chuckle when his middle gets patted. He hefts it up, letting his large stomach jostle and jiggle about underneath his red coat; unlike Murray, he seems to enjoy the role of Santa Claus, even though it is fake. “How do we get in, though? We can’t climb up to reach the chimney.”

“I’m already two steps ahead of you, Harlan,” he says, leading his lumbering bro to the back, pointing to a sliding window close to the ground, it being around 32x18 inches, wholly opened. “I disguised myself as an officer to warn the residents about a burglar on the loose and made sure to go down to the basement to ‘check’ to see if the bad guy was hiding,” he says, putting quotations around them, “all the while I unlocked the window without them even knowing.” To showcase his supposed brilliance, he opens the window like a magician, revealing a trick.

“Wow, big bro.” Harlan couldn’t help but be a bit in awe of it. It is safe to say that Murray was the brains, while Harlan was the brawn of the duo.

“All in a day’s work of a master thief,” Murray says smugly to himself. “I can be so crafty sometimes!” While self-absorbed in his ego, he didn’t consider one simple law of physics: When a square cube meets a round hole, resistance will follow. Or to be more pedantic, Harlan gets onto his stomach and starts to squeeze himself through the window, grunting and groaning as the window creaks to try and contain the immense bulk pressing against the frame. He only gets his chest through when he stops dead in his tracks, unable to move any further. He heaves and shoves, trying desperately to pull himself inside, his boots kicking against the snowy ground. But it was no good; Santa Harlan is stuck. When Murray sees his brother’s giant behind sticking out from the ground, he realizes that he must get him inside before any neighbors spot them. So he starts to join in, pushing and shoving into Harlan’s doughy posterior as hard as he can.

“Are you sure about this?” Harlan asks, oofing as he feels his little bro’s paws sinking deep into his posterior. “I don’t think I can *oof* fit through.”

“Nonsense,” Murray retorts, grunting as he pushes even harder. It starts to work as he can feel his bro inching more and more forward. “You just got to *grunt* think *erf* thin!” With one massive shove, Harlan pops through the window and falls face-first onto the floor, with Murray joining right behind as he lands on top of him. “See? Nothing to worry about, Harlan, though I suggest you skip on the fatty foods for a bit there, little bro.”

“Ooogh,” Harlan groans, rubbing his head. “Can we go back to stealing instead of poking at my weight?”

“Alright, alright,” Murray nods as he slides off Harlan’s gut. “But we need to be quiet.”

Harlan nods as he gets up, the seams of his suit straining more due to the movement. He lumbers behind Murray, the two heading upstairs. Murray tells Harlan about a certain step they need to avoid so as not to make a creak that echoes through the house.

Once they made it to the main floor, the two marveled at how much stuff to pilfer and coin. Murray has his eyes gleaming at the expensive toys he spies upon, like the high-end PC, drawing tablet, gaming consoles, the whole nine yards. He brings out a giant leather sack he hid in his outfit and packs it with whatever valuables he can get. Harlan was about to help when his nose caught something. He sniffs the air, his mouth watering a bit. Something sure smells good, he thinks, so he goes into the kitchen and dining area to see what is being made. His jaw hits the floor when he sees the ginormous feast on the table.
“Holy moly ravioli.” He says to himself, wholly gobsmacked at the sight.

He was about to grab himself a turkey leg when suddenly he heard a voice coming from the other end of the room. “Oh my god, Santa!”

Harlan freezes up, turning around to see who it is. It was Maz, in his pajamas, looking as giddy as a schoolboy on… Well, Christmas. The big raccoon knew he had to think fast, but this was his bro’s expertise; he’s more of a go-with-the-flow guy. Then, he realizes that Maz doesn’t see him as a thief. Thinking quickly, he tries to act like he’s the real deal. “Er-Ho-ho-ho! Merry Christmas, little one.”

Murray perked his head up, ‘why is the big lug making such a racket?’ He thought. When he got to the kitchen, he realized the gravity of the situation. Maz spots what he assumes to be Santa’s little helper and beams up even more. “And you must be his little helper!”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Murray says, quickly realizing, like Harlan, that they would have to play the part to not get caught. I’m Marvin, Santa’s little helper. I was busy putting away the presents for you and your brother.”

“Oooh,” Maz awes. “I guess that means me and my big bro have been good this year!”

“What the heck is going on down there?!” Vorax hollers from the floor above.

“It’s Santa, Vor!” Maz shouts back. “He and his little helper Marvin are here to deliver us our presents and enjoy the feast!”

“Santa?” Vor comes down the stairs and sees them in the kitchen. When he spots ‘Santa’ and his ‘little helper,’ he can’t help but raise a brow, his ears on high alert. “Oh really now?”

“Uh, y-yes!” Murray quips, pointing to the giant leather bag still in the living room. “We were just about to leave when your younger brother came out and surprised us.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Maz says, scratching his head. “I didn’t mean to startle you two; I was using the toilet, as Vor occupied the upstairs one. Wait… You won’t finish the feast we prepared for you and Santa?”

“This entire feast is for us?” Murray gulped as he looked at the servings. Good lord, he thought, he’s not even sure if Harlan can go through it all, and he’s got the appetite of a hippo!

“Why yes,” Vor says, walking over to Murray, looming over and eyeing him. Just as he thought, this is the cop from earlier! So, these two chuckleheads thought they could steal from his little bro and ruin Christmas. “We’ve toiled all yesterday and today to make this feast for you, Mr. Claus and Marvin. We’d HATE you to leave without finishing it off. After all, Santa doesn’t leave a scrap.”

Murray gulped, realizing he didn’t have a say in the matter. Meanwhile, Harlan's mouth turns into a waterfall, coating his fake beard. “So, all of this is for us?” He asks, unable to process the sight.

Maz nods, smiling as brightly as ever. “Yep, just for you, your helpers, and your reindeer!”

“HO-HO-HO!” Harlan laughs jolly, obviously excited about this. “Don’t you worry, little one, me and my big bro—I mean, little helper, will be more than glad to finish off the feast you put the love and care into.”
As the big raccoon takes a seat at the table with help from Vor, the elder dragon makes sure to lead Murray to the table, having him sit opposite Harlan. With no time to waste, Harlan uses his grubby gloved mittens on the nearest turkey leg and starts to go to town. In no time at all, as he feels the turkey meat and its succulent flavor go down his gullet, his stomach roars hungrily, demanding more. He lets his inner glutton take over and goes after nearly everything he can reach. Murray, meanwhile, grabs the other turkey leg and munches on it. For some reason, though, it tasted very heavenly on his tongue, like an explosion of flavor that is irresistible. And his stomach was grumbling in satisfaction as the juicy meats digested into his body. He must have more. No. He needs more. So, like Murray, he starts to chow down as if his life depended on it.

Unbeknownst to the Quick Brothers and Maz, Vor used a little bit of his alchemy know-how to spike the brother’s metabolism to dramatically slow down by touching them. So, as the two ate and ate, they started to put on the pounds quickly. For Murray, it was very noticeable; his once lanky frame started to balloon outward with heft, his elf outfit struggling to contain his bulk, especially as he started to grow outwards and upwards. His arms, once like twigs, start to turn into sausage links, his legs and thighs thickening and rubbing together, his rump ballooning and jiggling about; he’s even developing man boobs! But of course, his stomach, ever getting rounder and softer, demands more, grabbing the roasted vegetables and sliced ham with just his paws. “Omf, thish ish soooo good!” He moans blissfully, grabbing handfuls of stuffing without a care in the world, unaware that he’s already starting to reach Harlan’s original size.

Harlan, while the effects were a bit more subtle due to him already being big, the impact is no less apparent. His already large gut is now breaking free from the confines of his jacket, letting it spill out in the open on his lap; his thickening legs causing the seams of his pants to split and open, his arms now looking like thick tree branches of a mighty oak. His messy fake beard just caked in crumbs and spilled juices, the raccoon now lumbering in at a little over 8 feet tall and probably breaking past half a ton. “You said it! It’s like heaven in my mouth!” He retorts with glee, causing Maz to beam with joy.

Soon, though, the feast ends, the table licked clean with no crumbs nor morsel in sight; all of its contents resting and digesting in the tremendous guts of the Quick Brothers. “Uuuugh,” Murray groaned, rubbing his ginormous wobbling middle, feeling the seams of his elf costume tearing apart. “Why did I eat all that? I feel like I’m going to explode.”

“Same here.” Harlen hiccups with a nod, though deep down, he’s probably delighted with eating all of that free food.

“Are you two alright?” Maz asks, looking over the two with concern on his face. “Did we make too much for you two?”

Before Murray could answer, Vorax responded. “Nonsense.” He says, smiling at Naz to reassure him. “I think they still have enough room for dessert.” He grins deviously at Murray.

With an audible gulp, Murray desperately gets onto his feet, grunting as he feels every part of his body sloshing and wobbling about in response. “Uh, no-no, that’s okay! We had our fill, so it is time me, and Har—I mean Santa Claus, make our merry way!” He waddles his way over to his bro, who is still in a blissful food coma. He heaves to get him up, feeling like he has to use a forklift to get the guy onto his feet.
“We’ll just make our way out the door and bring forth presents!”

“The door?” Maz asks quizzically. “Don’t you mean the chimney?”

Harlan, who’s probably so drunk on his gluttony that he legitimately believes he’s Santa, nods up and down, his fat face bunching up his chins hidden underneath the fake beard. “He’s right, Marvin.” He says, his full cheeks making it a bit tricky for him to communicate clearly. “Santa always enters and exits the house through the chimney.”

“B-but neither of us can fit in the chimney at our size!”

“Nonsense,” Harlan chirps, wrapping his arm around Murray’s side and pulling him in. “You just got to have a little bit of *hic* Christmas belief. Miracles happen from believing.” Despite being in a bit of a stupor, no matter how much Murray protests, Harlan wouldn’t let him go as he dragged him towards the fireplace, still holding him close. Having himself on his knees -with Murray not far behind- and his stomach fully squished against the ground, he squeezes Murray and himself into the chimney.

There was no miracle to be had, as the two squeezed themselves further into the fireplace, having to contort their own bodies (well, it’s more like Harlan forcibly dragging Murray along with him) to try and get up the chimney, but with the two of them clogging up the entryway, they were just stuck fast, both of their legs flailing and wobbling about. Looking at it from the perspective of the dragon brothers, it looks like raccoon lard is oozing out of the fireplace.

“Should we help them?” Maz asks.

“Don’t worry,” Vor responds with a grin. “I’ll get the two out through the chimney on my own. You just head upstairs to bed and wait for morning.”

Maz smiles, gently nodding. “Alrighty. Thanks for helping me with the feast, big bro; I am so happy that Santa could enjoy the meal.” He says, heading his way up the stairs and towards bed.

Meanwhile, inside the cramped confines of the chimney, both Murray and Harlan could barely even move, their bodies so bloated and pressing against each other that they couldn’t even move their arms as they were wedged tight. “Nice going, dumbo!” Murray snaps at Harlan, obviously very annoyed at the situation. “Not only did you turn me into a hippo, like yourself, but you also blew the heist!”

“Oh, that’s no way to talk to Santa, young one,” Harlan says, tutting in disapproval as he grunts and tries to shimmy himself, with no luck.

“Little?! I’m four years older than you!” Murray sounds pissed, ready to bite at Harlan. All of a sudden, the two felt great heaves and shoves as they were slowly squeezed further and further up into the chimney. On the other end, Vor, with his strength, heaved and shoved against the two doughy posteriors as hard as he could, putting in quite the effort he reserved for the gym. At least he’s getting good exercise out of teaching these two chuckleheads a lesson. “H-hey!” Murray tries to shout. “We aren’t Santa and his little helper! We can’t get any further up the chimney! Pull us out!”

“Oh, I know.” Vor says, a hint of deviousness in his voice. Murray wasn’t sure if he heard what he said. Still, he could feel the dragon’s angry aura emanating from the other side of the wall as he grunted and shoved the two further, the raccoon bulk causing the chimney's walls to creak and groan, creating a noticeable bulge in the wall. “I remember you from *grunt* yesterday, officer. Trying to steal from my little brother, are you? Trying to ruin Christmas?” Before Murray can respond, Vor gives one final shove, pushing the two brothers further up into the chimney, far enough so that they are completely encased in it, with nowhere else to go, both of their fats making it hard for them even to speak. Thank god these two aren’t claustrophobic; otherwise, they’d be panicking. “Well, Father Christmas won’t mind me being a bit naughty with this little trick I learned. I’ll make sure to send you two his way soon enough.”

He then starts a fire with some alchemy, closing the fireplace shut. This special type of fire doesn’t require oxygen to burn. The drawback is that it doesn’t burn as much, but that’s okay for Vorax since he has bigger plans.

At first, the Quick brothers feel warmth at their boots. It doesn’t take long for Murray to realize that the dragon created a fire beneath him. Now it was time to panic; he and Harlan can feel the heat quickly building up beneath them, spreading all over their body, turning it into a cramped sauna. But that’s not all the two felt; they felt pressure building up underneath them, pressing against their fat asses. “Oh crap!” Murray gasped. “What is he doing?!”

“I don’t know!” Harlan, now more aware of his surroundings and out of his food stupor, joins in the fruitless struggle to get out of the chimney. But it was no use, they were packed tight in there like they were in a sardine can. A sardine can that’s increasing in pressure. Since Vorax completely closed the fireplace and the Quick brothers completely blocked the chimney, the pressure just builds, and builds, like a highly pressurized chamber that’s ready to explode.

All of a sudden, in what felt like a nanosecond, the brothers were launched out of the cannon and into the open sky, the pressure shooting them out like a high-velocity cannon. Their screams echo the night as they become shooting stars for the people below.

“Well, that’s taken care of.” Vorax smiled peacefully. “I’ll just prepare some milk and cookies for Father Christmas.”