Little Jack Horner sat in the corner, eating his Christmas pie
He put in his thumb and pulled out a plum and said "What a good boy am I!"

[Old nursery rhyme]

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Christmas dinner at the Horner's was always a jolly time, and this year was certainly no exception. The seasons had been good, and Mrs Horner had managed to raise a pair of splendid big fat geese. One of these, all golden brown and stuffed with apple and chestnuts, had just finished roasting in the great oven in the kitchen. The lady of the house, judging from long experience that it was just right, carefully took it out, placed it on her best china serving platter, surrounded it with the potatoes that had been in the bottom of the pan for the last hour or so and garnished it with fresh cress. By then the potatoes were perfectly cooked and had a delicious coating of rich goose fat.

The other goose, with sundry vegetables, had been given to the Horner's nearest neighbour in exchange for four bottles of his wonderful home grown pinot noir. Mr Horner knew that it was wonderful because a month ago he and his neighbour had sampled a couple of bottles one evening, and had agreed there and then on the Christmas exchange.

After many 'ooohs' and 'ahhhs' and expressions of appreciation for all Mrs Horner's hard work, the family - Mr and Mrs Horner, Grandma and Grandpa, 10 year old Jack and his four year old sister Charlotte - set to work with a will on the plates set before them. The four adults also began to seriously nudge the wine. Jack was given a glass, which became a glass and a half, and even little Charlotte was allowed a few sips, and then a few more. By the time that the portions of goose and the potatoes had been reduced to a few smears of fat on the plates the company had become very hilarious, and their faces were flushed with good cheer.

All, that is, except for Charlotte. She didn't seem to be as full of good cheer as the others, although nobody really noticed. Nobody noticed that she left the kitchen for several minutes.

"Well Mrs Horner" said her husband, loosening his belt. "That was magnificent!" There was a chorus of approval from around the table.

"Thank you Mr Horner" said the lady, blushing a little (for she was a modest person in most things). "Do you think that this might be a good time for young Jack to have his first Christmas pie? That is, before I bring in the salad."

"Hmm," said that gentleman, thoughtfully rubbing his chin. "Do you think that Charlotte is old enough yet?"

"Oh, I think so. Wasn't your sister Rose this age when you had your first one?"

"No, she was six, if I recall correctly. But never mind" he continued expansively. "We're all enjoying ourselves and, as the old saying goes, let's make hay while the sun shines."

It was true that they were enjoying themselves. The goose had followed a magnificent salmon that Mr Horner had caught in the river only two days before, poached with dill and accompanied by a couple of bottles of semillon. The salmon had been preceded by a glass of chilled and very dry fino sherry (not for the children though!), a luxury only allowed by the far better than average barley crop. To be perfectly frank, by this time of the afternoon the Horners were pissed.

Both Jack and his sister looked curiously at their parents while this exchange was going on. "It's an old Horner family tradition" said their mother, getting up from the dining table. Taking Charlotte's hand, she led her to a corner of the great kitchen and helped her to get up onto a small table. Mr Horner went and fed some more wood into the oven.

"Now darling" Mrs Horner said to the little girl. "I want you to lie down on your back on this table." When the child had done what she was told her mother pulled the little blue dress up around her waist.

"What are you doing Mummy?" she asked, a little nervously.

"There's no need for you to worry my little precious" she replied soothingly, stroking her hair gently as she pulled the white cotton panties off her daughter's little legs and over her feet. "Jack is going to come over here and do something that will make you feel really nice."

"What's he going to do Mummy?" Charlotte still sounded very wary.

"He's going to lick your little fanny" her mother said softly. "Now be a good girl and move your legs apart."

"Do I have to Mummy?"

"Yes dear, it is a family tradition. It won't hurt at all, and you'll like it after even a very little bit." The child was not really convinced, but did as she was told and parted her legs to reveal the sweetest little pink slit.

In the meantime Jack's father had positioned a low chair at the end of the table and got his son to sit in it. "What you have to do Jack" he said in a confidential tone, "is to lick your sister's little girl cleft."

Unlike his sister, Jack was stimulated by the task assigned to him. In fact he was having one of his first stiffies. For several months now he had been curious to see exactly what girl genitals looked like and here was a fine close up view. The fact that this was his own sister, and that she was only four, did not worry him at all.

Mind you, he wasn't 100% sure about the licking bit, but the Horner men have always been steadfast in the face of extraordinary demands, the stuff that heroes are made of, and young Jack was no exception. After a bit of hesitation, he leaned forward and gently touched his tongue to his sister's labia. She jerked a bit and gave a tiny gasp, but stayed where she was with her legs apart. Mrs Horner, who was sitting in a chair beside her daughter, softly stroked her hair and gave her little hand a gentle squeeze.

Jack touched her again with his tongue, this time leaving it there. Getting a bit more adventurous, he slowly moved it up the length of the little folds, and then back down again. Charlotte gave a little shiver. Her brother slowly licked the length of her labia again, then again and again. Soon he was freely licking her up and down, while she writhed slightly on the table.

"Do you like that darling?" her mother asked.

"Yes Mummy, but I've got a pain inside my bottom."

"Have you petal. What sort of pain?"

"I feel like I want to do a poohey, but it won't come out. I went out to the dunny while we were eating the goose and I tried and tried and tried, but it wouldn't come out."

"Give her some dried figs" said Grandpa.

"Ah, too many cakes yesterday" said Mrs Horner.

"Give her prunes" said Grandma. "They always work for me."

"What we need is a suppository" said Mr Horner.

"We're right out" replied his wife. "Maybe if we send Jack to Dr Foster we could get a couple."

"Oh, he's gone to Gloucester."

"What, in the rain?"

"Why don't you just stick a finger up her bum" interjected Grandpa.

"Now there's an idea" said Mrs Horner. "But maybe we should get Jack to do it. His fingers are smaller." So saying, she turned Charlotte over onto her tummy, pulled her dress back up and tried to spread her legs apart.

"I don't want Jack to put his finger up my bottom" wailed the little girl, struggling furiously.

"Darling, it will help get rid of that nasty hard poohey in there, and it really won't hurt. I promise." But all assurances were to no avail, and the little girl kicked and struggled.

"I'll go and get some scarves and football socks" said Mr Horner. "We could tie her arms and legs to the table legs." So saying he went off to the parental bedroom, returning a few minutes later with two scarves and his prized Arsenal football socks. It was hard work, but eventually they managed to secure Charlotte's wrists to the two table legs at one end and her ankles to the two legs at the other end. With her legs pulled off at angles, her little bottom cheeks were parted revealing the sweetest little rosebud anus.

Mrs Horner got some goose fat from the roasting pan and smeared it on Jack's middle finger. "Now" she said. "Be gentle. Slip the point of your finger into Charlotte's bottom hole very slowly and carefully."

Jack tried, but his little sister had clenched her sphincter up so tight that he simply couldn't get it in. Every attempt was met by a thrashing body and loud screams.

Slap! went Mr Horner's hand on his daughter's bottom. When she wailed in pain he pushed on his son's finger, so that the top of it slipped into the tight little hole.

"Now Charlotte, you listen to me" he said in a very authoritative tone. "We're just trying to help you, so you let Jack put his finger into your bottom hole. If you don't, I'll smack your bottom hard until you do. Understand?"

"Y-yes D-daddy" sobbed the child.

"Now son, what you have to do is wiggle your finger about, while gradually, and I do mean gradually, slipping it further and further in. Do you understand?"

"Yes Dad." Jack soon caught on to the idea, slowly moving his finger about inside his four year old sister's anus, while gradually sliding it in, deeper and deeper. After several minutes his finger was inside her up to the second joint, and his small willy was very stiff. The little girl was now moaning softly and writhing slightly instead of wailing and struggling.

"This isn't working" said Mrs Horner. She got up, got more goose fat and smeared it on Jack's thumb. "Put in that into her" she told her son. Jack slid his finger out, to a sigh from his sister, and then slid his thumb into her bottom.

"Ouch! That hurt" said the little girl.

"Sorry Lotte" Jack mumbled.

Being very careful, Jack slowly and carefully slid his greased thumb deeper and deeper inside his little sister's anus, gently wiggling it about all the time. She sighed a few times, then moaned softly and stirred restlessly when he pushed it right in. His little boy cock was now rigid inside his pants.

"It's coming!" gasped Charlotte, suddenly red in the face.

"Quick! Take out your thumb" said Jack's mother, holding a wad of toilet paper close to the child's bottom.

And it did come out. A hard, brown little turd. The poor little girl gasped and a tear or two trickled down her cheek. Mrs Horner deftly wrapped the toilet paper around it and triumphantly bore it off to the dunny out the back. She returned a few minutes later with a face washer soaked in warm soapy water and cleaned up her daughter. In the meantime Mr Horner had untied the child and helped her to her feet again.

"Thank you Jack," they both said. "What a good boy you are!"

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After the salad, the cheese and the big, steaming plum pudding, the Horner family sat around in the parlour, too full of food and wine to do very much. They all took turns to hold little Charlotte, who was now restored to her normal high spirits, on their laps. She felt uncomfortable on Mr Horner's and Grandpa's lap, because there seemed to be something hard pressing into her still slightly sore bottom.

"Sorry if I hurt you Lotte" said Jack when it was his turn.

"That's alright Jack" she said, snuggling up against him. "It only hurt a bit at first, but after that it felt, well, sort of nice in a funny sort of way."