A Christmas Carroll

Stan was back home for the holidays, and it felt good to be back in his childhood home. Sure, it had only been a few months since his last visit. But with him in his final months of college, he was getting fewer and fewer chances to make the journey out of state. With graduation drawing ever closer, he'd hoped to find a job somewhere closer to home, but all of his trawling job sites came up with nothing that would put his degree to good use. At least in the big cities, people were clamoring for child psychologists. As for now, he'd cherish every moment spent with his parents and sister while he could.

Which is why he felt a little disgruntled by his current task. His mom had given him a box of baked goods to deliver to someone in their apartment block. Some old guy called Geoffrey Carroll. He'd seen him a few times in the lobby over the years, but neither of them had ever said a single word to the other. Why would they? The man was as old as his grandparents. Older, even. His mom, however, knew every single person in the building by name, and almost every little thing about them. Apparently, he'd slipped on some ice outside the lobby recently, and fractured his hip. So she'd taken it upon herself to make him a treat, and asked Stan to offer any help in bringing some festive cheer. 

So he put on his best ugly festive sweater, stuffed a Santa hat on his head, and trekked up a flight of stairs to deliver the goods. He knocked at the door, and after a period just long enough to consider leaving the box on the floor and leaving, it was opened by a squat, elderly man with a bristly mustache and wispy, thinning hair. He had a pair of thick rimmed spectacles, and propped himself up with a steel medical cane. He looked him up and down with suspicion. "Wrong door," he grumbled. "I don't do that online stuff..."

"No Mr. Carroll, I'm Stan. I live on the floor below you. Uh, you know my mom, Betty Brooks? She heard about your accident, and asked me to give you these."

"Ah, Betty. A fine woman, she is. She's the only one who seems to check up on me nowadays..." Geoffrey stepped back from the door and added, "Well don't stand there like a lemon, come in!"

It was a little awkward to be invited inside given how he'd never said two words to the man up to now. But Stan pushed through the awkwardness and squeezed his way past the elderly man, being careful not to trip over his cane, and stepped into the living room. It looked much like his grandparent's house, smelled a little like it too. There were old photos of family members scattered around the room. He stopped in front of one which looked like a family reunion and asked, "Does your family not stop by? Seems like there's a lot of them..."

 "Of course they do!" Geoffrey sneered. "But they all moved away long ago. My youngest grandson's the closest, and he's still a good two hour drive. Everyone gets together for Thanksgiving, but Christmas? Bah! They're too old for that now, they have their own kids to coddle."

"No Christmas huh?" Stan felt a little disappointed by that sentiment. His family were Christmas mad. Like putting the Christmas tree up on Halloween mad. Looking around him now, there was no indication it was the middle of December. Not even a stray greeting card. "I guess that explains the lack of decorations..."

"My wife was the one who decorated for Christmas." Geoffrey sighed solemnly. "I haven't touched an ornament since she passed."

"Oh, I'm sorry..."

"Don't be, it was years ago," he said. "She was the sociable one, the one who enjoyed everything about Christmas. It doesn't feel right to celebrate without her..."

"Well I could put some decorations up," Stan suggested. "If you want, that is. Spruce the place up a bit."

"Bah, it'd only get in the way!" Geoffrey grumbled. "And all those lights and flashy nonsense would kick up my migraines!"

"I see," Stan said with a stroke of his chin. "You're a bit of a Scrooge."

"No I'm not!" Geoffrey huffed. "I can celebrate Christmas without the need for the frivolities. If anything, they get in the way of the true meaning of Christmas."

"Mmm, the presents."

"Jesus Christ!"

"I'm kidding, of course it's about spending time with loved ones."

"No, it's about the birth of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ! Good gracious, what are they teaching you in school nowadays!?"

"Sir, I'm 22."

"That's no excuse for ignorance!"

Stan sighed. Was it the pain of his fractured hip or was this guy always so grouchy? Maybe he needed a little encouragement. With a sly smile, he said "I wish you could reflect on those Christmases Past. Maybe you'll get more into the Christmas spirit, Mr. Scrooge!" He slipped the Santa hat from his head and plopped it atop Geoffrey's balding pate. It slid down his head, and almost covered his eyes. It took plenty of willpower for Stan to not burst into laughter at the sight.

Unfortunately, Geoffrey didn't appear to see the bright side of things, his cheeks almost as red as the hat blocking his vision. "I wish you would reflect on all those Christmases Yet To Come, and understand how demeaning the entire blasted thing is!" He yanked the hat off his head and tossed it to the ground. "Yes, I've read A Christmas Carol, you fool-born lout! And keep that hooter of yours out of other's personal businesses!"

"Wow..."

Geoffrey seethed for a moment, allowing his temper to cool before exhaling a heavy sigh. "You know what? Do whatever you want. Decorate or don't. I don't care any more." Stan was surprised by the sudden change in demeanor. Was this that seasonal depression he'd heard about? Geoffrey shuffled past him, quietly sneering "I'll be sure to let you know if any ghosts visit." before entering his bedroom with a huff.

Maybe he shouldn't have given the lad free reign over his apartment, Geoffrey briefly wondered before a sharp pain shot through his body. He winced as he lowered himself onto his bed, and made himself comfortable. Christmas spirit indeed... "Bah!" He growled aloud once more. Maybe that kid was right, he was a Scrooge. But for good reason. Any love he had for Christmas died the instant his beloved Maria passed away. She did it all. The decorations, the gift wrapping, the hosting, the dinners, and all with a smile on her beautiful face. So tied to Christmas were his memories of her, he couldn't bare to celebrate the season once more. It didn't feel the same. He only felt empty at this time of year... He mumbled some nonsense to himself as he fell into a deep sleep, unaware that the pain in his hip was gradually dissipating.

 ---------

Stan stood by, box of treats in hand, for several minutes as he debated whether or not to leave. He didn't really want to stick around. But he knew if he told his mom what had happened, she'd implore him to go straight back and spread a little cheer. Maybe the decorations would remind the old guy of those times spent with his family, and he'd be less of a Scrooge. The hardest part happened to be the easiest, as he found the plastic tree and a box of decorations behind the first closet door he opened. Perhaps the old geezer was going to decorate after all before his accident. Whatever the reason, all that was left to do was set it up.

It was a handsome artificial tree that looked like it had seen a lot of use. He could only imagine the Christmases that had been spent with this tree in sight. The joys of gifts, cheer and merriment. He could even see Geoffrey sat in an armchair, a tiny smile cracking his hard veneer as his sons opened up their presents from Santa. Year after year as the tradition moved from sons to grandsons, all fueled up with sugar and cheer as they ripped into gift wrapped boxes filled with toys and clothes and the occasional toiletry gift set. This tree had seen it all.

Stan chuckled to himself, giving his face a much needed scratch. His beard felt peculiar yet inviting. He'd been trying to grow one for Decembeard, and those increasingly cold nights, but it still grew in patchy. Or rather, it did until this very moment. Now it had blossomed into a fluffy delight that spread from cheek to cheek with a density he'd never experienced in facial hair. It left him with an odd feeling in his chest. Did beards just grow like that? An odd itch and persistent chill proved that wasn't all that was furry. His belly was gaining its own soft pelt of hairs. Stan had noticed since it now extended out from beneath his sweater, pushing it upwards to display its breadth. He chuckled nervously as he gave it a stroke. "I guess there's more than one way to grow up," he sighed. Geoffrey wanted him to reflect on Christmases Yet To Come. It was an odd wish, but one that seemed to be having an effect on him. He'd heard magic was writhe this time of year...

Now his body was feeling warm and cramped. His clothes continued to tighten around him like they shrunk in the wash. He really didn't want to, but he found he had no choice. Stan slipped his sweater off and tossed it aside, followed by his jeans which had to be peeled off of his burgeoning buttocks and thick thighs. He marveled at how much hairier he had become. Swirls of dark hair swept across his torso in an uninterrupted blanket. Deep in his rational mind, he knew this was impossible, and something that should terrify him. But those initial qualms were quickly fading away as quick as his hairline. He felt a breeze across his head. Reaching up, he stroked the top of his bald scalp with a slight frown. It appeared that woolly coating he'd obtained had all just migrated south of his head for the Winter.

Despite the uneasiness in his stomach, Stan couldn't help but marvel at his changes. It almost felt right to be so thick and hairy and mature. "I'm growing up," he said aloud. "I'm getting old. It won't be long until I'm as old as..." He gulped at the thought, briefly coming back to his senses. He didn't want to be old, right? He was losing his hair, getting fat, getting achey. And most importantly, he was losing his youth. This should have been terrifying, or at least concerning. Instead, Stan felt rather flustered. Everything about his failing body was turning him on. His cock had gotten hard, and to his surprise, it looked less than adequate. Was it his growing fat folds or was it actually getting shorter? As he held it in the palm of his hand, he swore he could feel it shrinking within his grip. A lustful moan escaped his lips at the thought. What if Geoffrey came back out to find him stripped naked and feeling himself up? It'd be so humiliating... The thought alone made him even more horny... But now wasn't the time for games! He had to hold off until he'd finished decorating. Why if his beloved could see him now...

Stan jolted upwards at the thought and sapped any lingering horniness at the roots. His cock even softened in his grasp, not even half the length as it used to be. Since when was he in a relationship? He was a single man, not for lack of trying. Yet thinking about it, he could see himself as a family man. Sat in his armchair as he watches his little boys open their presents from "Santa" with a knowing smile. Years passing by, decades, all spent in that comfy armchair as the belief in Santa spread from son to grandson to great-grandson. His loving wife by his side as she takes a break from slaving over the oven to accept that lovely necklace she'd had her eye on, or the garish blouse her sister had insisted he bought her. Then the many, many Christmases spent without her by his side. It was almost enough to give up on the whole thing...

Looking around, Stan spotted his discarded Santa hat. He reached down to pick it up, wincing as he felt a cramp in his lower back. He paused, and crouched down, his knees creaking as he grabbed the hat and stood back up. Creaky joints and back pain were all a part of getting old, he sighed. But looking around at what he'd already achieved, he realized something. He was getting old, but that didn't mean he had to grow up. He didn't want to be one of those old people who seemed to lack any sense of whimsy or joy. He refused to lose that joy! It would be a dishonor to his beloved wife if he gave in to the loneliness. She'd want him to celebrate all there was to be had at Christmas. Starting with the decorations.

The thought of all those Christmases yet to come put him in a better mood. There wasn't long to go until that Geoffrey guy came back. Then the real festivities could begin. He grabbed another ornament from the box and searched for the perfect spot to place it.

--------- 

Geoffrey tossed and turned in his bed. The nerve of that kid, thinking he could just waltz in with a box of cookies and demand he decorate his house for Christmas. Not the Christmas he knew, oh no. The proper, respectable tradition of remembering the birth of the Beloved Son. No, he wanted to bring in that sickening commercialized nonsense with all the bells and whistles he loathed. The second that lad was out of his hair, he was packing the whole thing back up.

How he wished he could go back, back to when he was celebrating with his wife and kids. As he sat in his chair and opened the gifts Maria had picked out for them under the guise of Santa. How he'd be given the usual bottle of whiskey or a box of cigars that would mostly go to waste as he found fewer moments to celebrate those big milestones in life... Then again, he'd never smoke a cigar in the first place. Smoking had been thoroughly drilled into his head as a dangerous, unhealthy endeavor and was seriously uncool. Now vapes. He'd smoked a few of those out of curiosity... Since when did he know what a vape was...

He shook his head to clear it. What nonsense was he thinking of. He was trying to remember his Christmases sat beneath the tree while his parents watched on with those patient smiles as he ripped open his gifts from Santa. It took him far too long to discover the truth, embarrassingly long. But that didn't ruin those moments when he truly believed. He recalled telling his fiancée all about it when they first started dating, and she laughed and laughed. That was when he knew they were made for each other. Lately he'd been thinking of popping the question, he just needed a ring... Wait, hadn't he already... What was her... 

It was the strangest thing. He could recall his days of youth with vivid precision. But anything past college was a frightening blur of vague details. And those vivid memories couldn't be real. He recalled opening Batman LEGO and a Jake the Dog toy as a kid, and the excitement of receiving a Nintendo Switch with a steering wheel add-on for bouts of Mario Kart as a teenager. But he was far too old for that junk. How did he even know what an Adventure Time was? Concentrating, he tried to recall anything at all about his life post college. But it was no use. All he felt was the pang of loss. Like he was forgetting something important. Someone important...

Geoffrey awoke with a start. Back in the same old bedroom he'd fallen asleep in. Old being an understatement. It felt familiar and yet oddly distant. A stranger's room. He felt less than refreshed, his mind foggy. Whatever he was dreaming, it was lost to the aether. He scrambled beside him for his glasses, only to come empty-handed. Though it appeared he didn't need them. Did he develop 20-20 vision in his sleep? Everything seemed so sharp and vivid in ways he hadn't experienced in years. He rubbed his head in awed confusion, followed by a "huh?" Was his hair usually this thick? A flash of memory told him he was thinning up top, yet his fingers didn't lie. It must have been that dream... He grasped at the covers and threw them off, the cool air hitting his bare torso. Why was he only in his underwear? And more importantly, where had these toned muscles come from?

Confused, Geoffrey jumped up from the bed and winced slightly. His back still felt sore from that fall last week. He thought he'd broken something from the way he landed. Luckily, he'd only bruised the skin, and his ego. It had definitely improved since then. He could walk upright, for one. In another week, he knew he'd be good as rain. The benefits of youth, he mused as he wandered over to the mirror in the corner. 

There he saw a young man of 22. Why he thought he was anything less, he didn't know. He licked at his bare upper lip, not fully understanding why he expected to feel the bristles of a chevron mustache. He'd only tried growing his facial hair once, and it came in so sparse, he vowed to never attempt it again until his stubble had fully filled in. He gawked at his reflection, giving his pecs a light squeeze as if he'd never seen his body before. Something told him he'd never been this athletic in his entire life, which was clearly untrue. He was the star of his football team back in high school, and still an avid gym-head now he was in college. He tickled the few hairs in between the solid mounds, picturing a far denser carpet of hair covering them. Maybe in another decade, but for now, he was smooth as silk. Not like that Santa brute... Santa who now? Another forgotten aspect of his dream maybe. Waking up in an unfamiliar bedroom alone was messing with his mind...

Lost in thought, a curious sensation brought him back to his senses - a wondrous, familiar smell in the air of nutmeg and cream. His mouth salivated at the scent drifting in from beneath the closed door. It wafted in from the kitchen. Of course, that guy was still here. Dan or Steve or whatever... Though something told him he was supposed to be here. The last thing he remembered was telling someone he was going to take a nap... No, he was going to get ready. Ready for what? Looking around, he didn't see any clothes that could have been his own. And he didn't feel entirely comfortable heading out of the room in just his undies. Or did he? It had to be why he was in a stranger's home in the first place. Didn't he accept someone's invitation to...

Geoffrey could hear singing now, Last Christmas. Low and rumbling and courageously off-key. The curiosity got the better of him, as it always did, and he decided to follow his nose out of the bedroom and down the hallway. He opened the door into the living room where he came face to face with a big surprise. A Christmas tree stood proudly in the center of the room loaded with kitschy ornaments and multi-colored lights. Even more tinsel and wreaths surrounded the rest of the room, giving it a homely glow that it previously lacked. There, stood by the tree, was the mysterious stranger who'd shown up out of the blue and offered to provide some Christmas spirit. There was a proud grin across his cheeks as if he hadn't just butchered a Wham classic. "I hope you don't mind," The shaggy old man said with a satisfied smile. "I made some eggnog while I waited. So what do you think? Pretty festive huh?"

Geoffrey looked to the tree and decorations that now stood in the center of the room, then back to the hairy old man sipping from a ceramic mug, and asked the only question that came to mind. "Why the fuck are you naked!?"

"Technically, I'm not completely nude," Stan said with a point to the red hat on his head.

"You know what I mean!"

"What can I say? I've done a lot of growing up recently," he chuckled as he slapped a palm against his solid belly and gave it a shake. "Besides, the suit's for work only. I like the feeling of being au naturel when I'm in my own home. Feels good, you know?"

"No, this is my ho-" Geoffrey began to say before petering out. How could he be sure this was his home? Sure, he lived in this apartment building, but it wasn't this apartment. It was missing his own personal touches. It looked like the home of an old man, that was certain. And he wasn't old, was he? No, of course not. He was barely in his twenties, the prime of his life.

"You know, it'd be pretty nice if you joined me," Stan said with a nod of the head to Geoff's underwear. "This ain't my first rodeo, no need to be so modest. We can have a little fun before we get to the main event. Come on, I'll get you some eggnog."

Geoffrey hesitated before following him out to the kitchen where a small pot of eggnog sat steaming on the stove. The Santa look-a-like ladled a generous portion into a matching mug and passed it to him with a wink. He gave it a sniff, appreciating the vanilla spiced scent. He'd never been one of eggnog but this cup smelled almost nostalgic. He took a long, hard sip. It was warm, and creamy, and overwhelmingly alcoholic. He coughed as a stifling heat burned in his throat, and his head swam a little.

"It's my wife's recipe.  She used to make it every Christmas morn. It'll put some much needed hair on your chest. I used to look just like you before I met her," Stan chuckled to himself while Geoffrey steadied himself on the counter. "Pace yourself, there's no rush."

 "Heh, I guess..." Geoffrey chuckled uneasily. He didn't know why he thought he could drink such a boozy drink so steadfast. He'd only become of age just over a year ago, and most of his drinking consisted of cheap beer from the student bar. Clearly he'd overestimated his tolerance. Putting his cup aside for the time being, he tried to come up with some small talk. "So Mr. Carroll..." Geoffrey shivered briefly. Why did that feel wrong?  

"Huh?" Stan sputtered his sip of eggnog back into his cup and said, "No, that's your na..." He paused. "Uhm, my father's name. Please, call me Stanley. Or even better, call me Santa." He winked.

"Well, only if you call me Geoff," the younger man chuckled awkwardly. "So Stanley. Or, uh, Santa. What exactly are we doing here?"

"Isn't it obvious? You wanted an up-close and personal visit with Rudolph."

"I...What?" Geoff cocked his head as Stanley subtly nodded his head downwards. Geoff followed his gaze until he locked eyes with 'Rudolph', and the old man reached down and gave it a soft stroke. A memory flashed before his eyes, of receiving some dick pics on one of his dating apps. Since when did he use those, anyway? It all felt so unfamiliar to him. Still, he smiled politely. "Oh, he's smaller in real life."

"Isn't he just?" Stanley smirked "I'd like to say it's Jack Frost's doing, but it's not the cold nipping at my nose." He squeezed the small nub with a soft sigh and tugged on one of his nipple rings at the same time. Was he getting off to this, Geoff thought. He felt flustered watching the silver-haired bear more than triple his age play with himself without a single care. Maybe it was the eggnog talking, but he was getting into it himself. He squeezed at his own cock through his underwear, feeling it get rock hard in his grip. He hadn't been able to get an erection in years... No, maybe Stanley hadn't. But Geoff had morning wood almost every day, not to mention afternoon, evening, and night. He was brimming with hormones, and was always in need of release. And seeing this horny old polar bear trying to get it up, he couldn't help himself. He reached out to Stanley, leaned forward, and planted a kiss right on the lips. Then his mind cleared and he stepped back immediately, cheeks flushed red. "Oh, I'm so sorry I-"

Before he could finish his apology, Stanley grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him in for a far more passionate smooch. They stood lip to lip, arms bunched around the other. For Stanley, this was something he'd done many a time, and it showed. For Geoff, he was more focused on how the bear's bushy beard tickled his nose, how his hairy belly squished against his abs, and those nipple piercings chilling his own nipples. Eventually, the passion died down, and Stanley stepped back with a sigh. "I'm sorry, am I too forthcoming? I'm used to men with more experience. If I'm making you uncomfortable, we could-"

"No, no." Geoff stammered. He didn't know why this felt so peculiar. He'd kissed other men before. Even hairy bears like the man before him. Hell, he initiated the kiss in the first place! But this felt different, almost wrong... He rubbed the back of his neck and said, "I've had experience. Plenty of it. Although never with someone so... Uhm, more experienced."

"It's okay, you can say old," Stan said with a hearty chuckle. "I'm an old man. Far too old to be fooling around with men younger than my grandkids, really. But it's always like this at this time of year. Younger men looking to experiment over the holidays. It's why I keep the hat on, because they're seeking out a Santa Claus of their own to have a little fun with."

It was sort of true, Geoff thought to himself. He was visiting his folks for the holidays, and was a little bored of the festivities. So he checked his dating apps to see who was in the same boat, and looking for a little festive fun. He wasn't expecting to see grizzled old Stanley Carroll baring it all, and in a Santa suit no less. Of course, the curiosity got the best of him, and they arranged a visit. He was surprised when the old bear even answered the door as Santa. Apparently, he moonlighted as the legend at the mall during the holidays, which seemed like a conflict of interest. But what he did in his spare time was his business, he asserted during that first meeting. He couldn't believe he was this close to fucking tha old man.

He had to prove he was committed. Geoff took another swig of eggnog courage before reaching down to his underwear and finally yanking them down in a single swoop, his cock bobbing up and down from the motion. Stanley raised his eyebrows and beamed underneath his bushy beard. "Well, that's a mighty big present you have there. Looks like you'll be coming down my chimney after all."

Geoff blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. It was a little corny but he liked it. He tried to match the energy. "Uhm, I'll fill your stockings with all the presents you can handle?"

"Nice try," Stanley chuckled. He tugged on his little pecker as if he was surprised it had gathered the courage to show up. "Well ho, ho, ho, it's a Christmas miracle! Why don't we cut the pleasantries and get to the bedroom while I can still keep it up."  

Stanley took the young man by the hand and led him back through to the bedroom. He laid back on his disheveled bed with a mischievous grin as he rubbed his flabby, furry belly. He'd faced those Christmases Yet To Come, and discovered many new things about himself. He loved his family, he loved Christmas, and he loved sharing that love with others in exciting new ways. He just couldn't wait to get started. "You're been a naughty boy, young Geoff," Stanley growled in his deep, gravelly voice. "But Santa is feeling a little naughty himself... If you want to get back in my good books, you're going to have to prove yourself."

Geoff psyched himself up. He was about to have sex with a retired widower role-playing in his own apartment. He'd known the man almost his entire life, but up to this moment, they'd never a single word to each other. They didn't know each other, not really. But it was still a weird feeling. In fact, he'd felt weird for a while now. Ever since he woke up from that weird, fuzzy dream of Christmases Past... He'd never really been one for Christmas himself. It always felt too full of itself as a holiday. Although he could always come around to it, he was willing to open up to the Christmas spirit.

Despite his confliction, his cock was hard as ever. Geoff slipped a condom on, along with a bit of lube, and stepped up to the fat, elderly man he'd been so confused by. Stanley, meanwhile, had made himself comfortable on the edge of his bed as he lay on his back, readying himself for a good time. He spread his legs wide in a pose that could only be described as turkey-esque. Geoff stared down at his huge, flabby ass. He'd never seen a rear-end quite so hairy. He could tell it covered him all the way up his back. It should have been off-putting, but if anything, it left him eager for what was to come. He gripped both ass cheeks and spread them apart before aiming his rock hard cock for Santa's puckered asshole. He smirked as he felt the old man shudder and try to suppress a moan as he slowly slid his thick dick inside, pausing as he reached half-way. "You okay?" he asked.

"Never better," Stanley sighed. "Now why don't you be a good boy and show Santa just why I should consider putting you on the nice list."

Geoff smirked as he thrust his hips deep into the old man's ass, eliciting a welcome yelp in response. He pounded away smoothly, trying not to be so hard. He was worried about hurting the poor guy, not to mention the sore throb from his own bruised hip. But he could tell that Stanley was eager for something more punishing. Geoff was hypnotized by the way Stanley's belly bounced back and forth with the motion. "I've never fucked anyone so fat before," he said absent-mindedly before realizing he should probably zip his lips.

"I am fat," Stanley agreed. "I'm a fat and old and gray. I'm being fucked by a man younger than my grandkids..." He moaned aloud before insisting, "Berate me. Humiliate me. Please..."

Now this was a new experience to Geoff. "Uhm... You're so hairy, it's like you're wearing a sweater? Err... And your beard looks like you're compensating for your bald head... How long have you been bald? I bet it's longer than I've been alive. I bet it's even longer than my dad's been alive." 

"You'd be correct," Stanley said with a moan. "Bald before I turned thirty... I was so ashamed..." He sounded upset, but the way he played with his nipples and tugged on his tiny cock like his life depended on it let Geoff know he was on the right track with the teasing.

"How does it feel to be fucked by such a virile young man? Does it turn you on knowing I'm so much younger than you?" A nod and another moan. "I'm 22, I'm still in college. I have my whole life ahead of me while yours is nearing its end." He was starting to get cruel, and it felt good to talk smack to a man who was clearly getting off on it. "You look pathetic trying to get whatever pleasure you can from that nub you call a cock. It's been buried by decades of flab. You're so fat and out of shape. I bet you weren't even in shape when you were my age. Fat all your life... A thick musclehead like me shouldn't be degrading himself fucking a ancient freak like you. I'm only doing it out of pity. Cause nobody else is going to. Not to a senior citizen like you. Face it, you're never going to be young again, you'll never be as fit and agile as me. Your best days are long behind you. You grew up too fast, you've missed the prime of your life, and you'll never get to experience it ever again."

With a sudden and unexpected shudder, Stanley gasped and rolled his eyes back. His cock sputtered out watery ropes of cum across his belly before sinking back into a flaccid state. "Looks like... Santa came a little... Early..." He panted through ragged breaths that made Geoff come to a halt in his pounding. But Stanley tapped him on the arms and said "No, don't stop because of me. It happens when you get old, you get too excited and can't hold it back. It's embarrassing, isn't it?" There was a wild grin that suggested everything was going to plan.

"I... I guess..." Geoff didn't feel right continuing to fuck the man long after he'd finished. But he had to admit it did feel good. Besides, Stanley seemed to take it like a champ. He even stepped up his agility until, after a few minutes of sweaty action, he finally howled as he filled his condom to the brim. Satisfied with their coupling, they lay side by side, panting in the afterglow. Eventually, Geoff sat up and gave Stanley a small smile. "That sure was great, Mr. Claus. But I'm concerned you'll still put me on the naughty list." He trailed his fingers through the old man's white chest hair, pausing as he teased the rings on his nipples. "Do you think you have the stamina for a round two?"

Stanley snorted, and patted his hand away. "Ah, to have the endless stamina of a young man again! I just about made it through round one. Another go right now would kill me. Besides, I was lucky to get Rudolph to come out and play at all. I've run out of those blue pills, you see?" He sighed and ran a hand down to his crotch and gave himself a little squeeze. "See? Nothing. Don't get old, kid..."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Geoff said with an apologetic smile. He couldn't tell whether this was still a part of his humiliation kink or he was speaking sincerely. They sat in silence for a few moments, then he asked, "You know, there's always space for one more at my parents' place for Christmas. I'm sure my mom would love it if you visited."

"Woah now, bud," Stanley said. "I appreciate the gesture, but I'm not looking for a relationship here. I can't be meeting your parents, I've got a good fifty years on you, at least! This was a one time thing. What is it you kids say... A booty call? I don't have much time left, certainly not for a single person."

"Who said anything about a relationship?" Geoff chuckled. "I just thought you'd prefer some company that isn't trying to get into Santa's pants! Not that I'd object, of course. It must be hard being alone for the holidays."

"Well, it is tough not having my beloved Maria around any longer, especially at this time of year. She was Christmas nuts, and her enthusiasm rubbed off on me. It's what led me to become a mall Santa, so I can bring joy the way she brought to me... But life goes on. Christmas is up to the boys nowadays. My youngest grandson's handling things this year. He's had a new addition to the family and I can't wait to see his little face."

"Oh, so you're a great grandfather, huh?" Geoff said almost in surprise. "That must be exciting."

"One of three great-grandkids," Stanley smiled. "The eldest turned seven last month, if you can believe it! I still remember when he was about the size of my hand." He held it up to his face before dropping it down to give his shaggy beard a contemplative tug. "It's the best part of getting old. Your family getting bigger, the festivities getting more hectic. It keeps you on your toes."

"Huh, I suppose it does," Geoff smiled. If he were in Stanley's boots, he would've given Christmas the boot. But seeing him embrace and celebrate the memories of his loved ones made his heart grow three sizes that day. Maybe this was the Christmas spirit that he needed to embrace. "Christmas isn't the time to wallow in the past, wondering what could have been. Nor is it worrying about the future and what could happen. It's about the here and now, spending time with others. That's why it's the present."

"Ouch!" Stanley rubbed his jaw in a comical fashion. "I'm all for sentimentality but that was some tooth-aching corn!"

As the two men laughed together, Stanley took a look at the young man sat next to him. He had his whole life ahead of him. Not like himself. There was a sense of loss, as if he'd lost something precious to him, but he couldn't remember. That was happening far too often nowadays. Getting old wasn't all fun and games. But he wouldn't change it for the world. He'd lived a long and fruitful life with a loving wife, bore two sons who each bore two sons of their own. People come and go, but there was no time like the present.

He nodded to Geoff and said "I see you're still have some Christmas cheer to spread," nodding at the man's solidly erect penis. To still have a working cock... "Well, I may not be ready to receive another stocking stuffer, but there's more than one way to satiate a craving, and I am desperate to get a taste of your candy cane."

 Geoff rolled his eyes and chuckled at the barrage of puns. "Well, I can't say no to Santa, can I?" Stanley grinned as he shifted his weight down, spreading his lips wide as his white beard buried Geoff's Pole like a blanket of snow. He could tell there were going to be many opportunities to spread Christmas cheer this holiday. 

 

Hungover

Samson stirred as he felt his eyes flutter awake. His vision was blurry. His ears were ringing. His head was throbbing. "Ugh, Whazzuh?" he grumbled. "Where am I? What day is it?" He rolled over slightly, his gut flipping as he almost fell to the floor, the motion fully jolting him awake. He realised he was laying on the sofa in his uncle's living room. He vaguely recalled going to visit for his annual Christmas Eve soirée. But he would have normally left by the end of the night. Did something happen?

"Ugh, my head..." Samson rubbed the top of his head, only mildly concerned to feel a vast expanse of skin in place of his hair. Did someone shave his head, and then stick the hairs to his face, he wondered as he scratched his fuzzy cheeks. His attention was then drawn to his clothes, a familiar red costume to some. But why was he dressed as Santa? The myriad of empty bottles littered on the ground maybe answered several of his questions, except he wasn't much of a drinker. He pulled himself upwards, groaning as it only exacerbated the aching in his head. "Ugh," he groaned. "What the hell happened last night?"

----------

A Grizzly Christmas Wish

It was a chilly weekend morning when I received the text from Kris. "Hey, Bobby and I are in town for the weekend! Let's do Christmas lunch so we can catch up!" They were my closest friends back in high school, but since I moved downtown, we barely see each other. It'd be nice to catch up, and god knows I have nothing better to do. But I just know they're going to be all lovey-dovey around each other, and I'll have to face the questions about my relationship, or lack of one. It's been one break-up after another for me. Not all of us can be high school sweethearts...

While I was busy decorating the apartment for Christmas, and debating whether I should pretend to be sick, I found a Santa hat buried at the very bottom of the box. Clearly a leftover from last year's office party. I remembered stories from when I was a kid, where making a wish while wearing Santa's hat would make them come true. It was a little silly, but I couldn't help myself. I pulled it on my head, closed my eyes, and spoke aloud. "I wish I had a date that I could take to lunch." Before I could even open my eyes again, a loud knocking jolted me back to reality. I wasn't expecting any deliveries, or even any visitors. There's no way...

The knock came again, louder. I tossed the hat onto the sofa and darted to the door, taking a quick peek in the peephole before opening it with a big grin. It was my neighbor, Sophia. She moved in a few months ago, and there was an immediate sexual tension between us, Anyone with common sense could see the sparks we had whenever we crossed paths. "Heeey," I growled, trying not to seem too excited by fate finally bringing us together. "What's up, Soph?"

"Oh Tom," she cooed. "I'm so glad you're home. Do you have any plans today?"

"Well, that depends. What did you have in mind?"

"I need to run some errands, and out of the blue, my babysitter called to say she couldn't make it." My heart dropped as she shuffled aside, and little Casey, her young son, popped into frame. "I don't suppose you could look after him for the day? Please?" Sophia pouted her lip a little, looking at me with expectant eyes. So much for that hot date... 

With a heavy sigh, I nodded my head and said, "sure. I can do that."

"Thank you so much!" She gave me a quick hug before waving me off. "I owe you big time, Tommy!"

"You sure do..." I mumbled under my breath before closing the door. Casey's cute and all, but this wasn't what I had in mind. Still, it was a great excuse to get out of this lunch. When I returned to the living room, I was surprised to find Casey with his hands on the Santa hat. "Why do you have one of these?" He asked. He squinted his eyes. "Are you Santa?"

"What? No! I've been decorating, and found it in one of the boxes." I sat down next to him. "You know, when I was your age, my mama told me that if you wear one and wish extra hard, Santa will grant your biggest wish."

He gasped, and yanked the hat onto his little head, quick as a dart. He scrunched up his face, and cried out, "I wish I was a bear!"

I let out a snort and asked, "A bear? Why would you want to be a bear?"

"Bears are so cool! They're really, really, big and fuzzy and cute, but they're also mean and scary too, and they live in the forest, and catch fish with their paws, and eat all the honey they want, and scratch their backs on trees, and they get to sleep all the time, and-"

I shook my head with a laugh. The kid was hilarious. But if the hat couldn't score me a date with Sophia, there was no way it was turning Casey into a bear. I let him babble on while I ducked into the kitchen to get us some snacks, and find a way to word babysitting duties into a well-meaning excuse.

My Desired Costume

Jack groaned as he rolled his head upright, heavy with a case of grogginess. He hadn't felt this bad after a night out in months. He wasn't even partying wild like his college days, it was only a few drinks with friends. He hadn't reached that age already, had he? But he couldn't remember any specifics. The whole night was a blur. Except for one moment. He left to use the restroom, when he bumped into someone he recognised. Someone that made him feel uneasy. Someone unwanted... But for the life of him, he couldn't remember anything. He gulped, he'd heard stories of people being drugged and assaulted. Was he another victim? Had this mystery person done something to him? Did they spike him? His heart sank at the thought. 

Yet as he tried to tried up to his face to rub the sleep from his eyes, he realised something most unsavory. He couldn't move his arms at all. The shock cleared his mind, allowing him to recognise the danger he was in. He was stood upright, his arms tired behind his back, his feet bound together and locked to the ground. He struggled to break free or even move from his spot, but it was no use. He was stuck. With a sigh, he looked around his environment uneasily. He wasn't just anywhere, he was in his own bedroom.

But who would drug and kidnap someone, only to leave them in their own home? There was only one way to find answers. Jack gulped and cleared his throat. "Hello?" He cried out, just loud enough for a would-be murderer to hear him. "Is anyone there? What's going on!?" There was a sudden bump in the room next door, followed by heavy footsteps that padded straight toward the bedroom door.

Affirmation

Loud pop music pumped through the packed streets of Roselake, doing its best to be heard over the crowds of people decked out in their loudest outfits. Pride was in full swing, gripping the usually laid-back town in its glittery grip for its annual weekend festival. Everywhere you looked was glamor, and color. Which made it easy to miss the short man wearing a bulky, black hoodie in the middle of summer. Not that Logan wanted to draw any kind of attention to himself. He kept his head down, sticking to the backstreets, and weaving through the throngs of people cheering on the drag act up on stage. Finally, he ducked around a corner towards the shopping plaza. About a dozen stalls were set up selling handcrafted merch, and providing help and advice for anyone interested. Still, he stuck to the covers until he finally stepped into the air-conditioned paradise that was his destination; Costume Plaza.

Almost immediately, Logan was caught off-guard by how quiet it was. Especially compared to the noise outside. He was expecting dozens of people looking for something to wear. In fact, he didn't see another customer at all. The only other person inside was a bored employee with his feet propped up on the counter, head in a book.

Logan gulped, thinking of leaving entirely. But he had to hold his ground. This was his only opportunity, all he had to do was ask... He shuffled up to the counter, and waited for the guy to notice him. He was a homely lad, with longish hair and a patchy beard. He had no name tag, but there was an ace flag sticker stuck to his shirt pocket. Logan found himself unconsciously scratching his own, beardless cheeks. He sighed, and finally gathered his courage. "Excuse me," he blurted, his voice catching in his throat at the last minute. He really hated being the center of attention, especially in current times. The quicker he could get through this interaction, the better. "Are you still open?"

"Mhm?" The guy looked up from his book, disgruntled by the interruption. "Of course we are."

"Uhm, sorry..." Logan gulped, embarrassed by the minor issue. "It's just so quiet. I thought you'd be jam-packed today, what with Pride and all."

"Anyone who needed a costume for Pride bought theirs in advance."

"Oh, right. Of course. Silly me..." Logan chuckled nervously. The man cocked an eyebrow, questioning whether he should get back to his book, until Logan dug his phone out from his pocket. He scrambled with his apps, saying aloud, "uh, I received this weird email the other day, and, you know, wanted to know more details...? Aha!" He found the email in his saved folders, and flipped his phone round to the employee.

The man took his phone, and mumble-read the contents to himself, before handing it back with a nod. "Right, the Pride Promo. I suppose they're targeting that stuff, huh. Feels like an invasion of privacy to me. But what do I know..."

"Cookies, and trackers, I guess... Heh..."

Better Treatment

Scott grunted as he pushed a lawnmower around his neighbor's yard. It was freezing outside, and there was still frost on the ground. Yet even though he couldn't see over the handles, he persisted. He knew he hadn't been the best boy this year, but even this wasn't worth getting into Santa's good books. He grumbled, recalling how Mr. Drummer suggested to his mom that he could do good deeds around his house to appease those watchful elves that reported on his daily doings. Scott knew the grump only wanted some free labor, for him to do the stuff he didn't want to. But he couldn't back down now. They were so close to Christmas, he could make it on the nice list, and get that Lego set he'd been dreaming of.

Speak of the devil, Drummer came out from the house wearing a bulky overcoat that clung to his belly, and a knitted hat atop his bald cranium. He stopped at the border between grass and pavement, and shook his head with a tut. "You won't be finished by sundown at this rate."

"Couldn't I have a break? My back is killing me..."

"Wait until you're my age, then we can talk about backs," Drummer grumbled back. "You wouldn't complain so much if you did your own chores at home. Now you know how your poor mother feels."

"Yeah, yeah..." Scott gave another push of the lawnmower, the motor vibrations shuddering up his arms. "But surely this could have waited until after Christmas? I can barely push the thing..."

"Ah, quit whining!" As Scott came closer, Drummer proceeded to pull a Santa hat from inside his coat, and hastily shoved it onto the boy's head. "There we go, may as well be festive while you're out here. When you're done with the lawn, I'll find you something warmer to do. Cleaning the stove, maybe..." He wandered back to the house with a cackle.

Scott groaned. His neighbor was deliberately making this tough for him. They weren't exactly on good terms after he knocked a tennis ball into his greenhouse, but this was too far. He sighed. "I wish Mr. Drummer would treat me better..." But that was as likely as catching Santa in the act. After a moment of self-pity, he got back to mowing the lawn.

Proof

I can't believe I've been grounded! So Mom caught me smoking one little cigarette, what's the big deal? S'not like I do it all the time. That she knows... Besides, it was all Tony's fault! He was the one who gave it to me in the first place. But he doesn't get in trouble, I do... And who cares if I smoke? Mom says it's a nasty habit, and can ruin your life. But lots of people do it every day, and they're just fine. Plus, Grandpa smokes! And he's healthier than all the other old people I've met. If only I could prove that Mom's acting all protective for no reason, then maybe I can get ungrounded...

It's a good thing I have this hat. Brett says that these promotional Santa hats everyone's been getting have some sorta weird power in them. He says that he wished for better grades at school, and now he's the smartest kid in class! Sure, he always was a genius, but I s'pose it changes other peoples' memories too? At least, that's what it sounded like when he explained it to me. And he's the brainiest guy I know, so it's gotta be true! 

I stuck the Santa hat on my head, and sighed. This better work... I thought through exactly what I wanted, and after a few minutes, I said out loud, "I wish I could prove I'll live a long life even if I smoke..." I waited, hoping that maybe some useful evidence or knowledge would suddenly come to me. But nothing. I can't believe I actually thought Brett was telling the truth. I feel so stupid...

I slammed a fist onto my bedside table, only for the drawer to slide open. Weird, it's never done that before. As I was about to close it, I noticed something inside. I reached in, and pulled out some weird looking log. I gave it a smell, and recognized the tobacco. Of course, it's a cigar! But I never put a cigar in there. And I don't know anyone who smokes them. Even Grandpa sticks to his fancy pipes. Still, it's pretty cool to have around. I put the cigar between my teeth, and was surprised as it automatically lit itself. Then I knew. This was exactly what I needed. If I want to prove I'll live a long life, then that's what I'll have to do. The magic hat was working!

License To Drink

"Come oooon, dad! Just one drink?"

"Absolutely not!"

"But it's Christmas!"

"Not for another 3 weeks, it's not. Not like that would make a difference..."

Max sulked as his dad walked off to greet another couple who had just knocked at the door. He was almost 16, he was practically an adult. It's not like he'd never tried beer before, so why did it matter if he had a little drink? It was a party! It wasn't even a cool party, just a gathering of some people his parents knew. None of his friends were allowed to come. At least alcohol would make things interesting...

Max knocked the white bobble on his Santa hat out of his face, and grumbled to himself. "I wish I could drink alcohol without getting into trouble..."

He slunk into the kitchen, preparing to grab a plate of finger food before retreating to his bedroom for the evening, when he stumbled into his uncle Jack, who had a sly grin on his face. "I overheard your little tiff with your pa."

"Yeah, so?" Max griped. He didn't want to talk to anyone else. Jack tapped his nose, then suddenly produced a bottle of beer from behind his back. Max's eyes lit up, as he snatched it from his uncle's hands. "O-M-G, you wouldn't!"

Jack shrugged his shoulders. "It's a teen's nature to rebel, and who am I to deny nature?" He reasoned as he took the bottle back, pouring the amber contents into a plastic red cup. "Don't worry, I'll keep your ol' pa occupied."

Max was bubbling with excitement as he took the cup from his uncle. "Thank you! You're the coolest!" Jack merely put a finger to his lips, then strutted into the main party room, straight up to his younger brother. Max ducked further into the kitchen, and took a moment to appreciate his alcoholic gift before taking a gulp from the cup. It burned the back of his throat, and sent a shiver down his spine. He'd forgotten how bitter beer could taste. He didn't like it much the first time, and it still left an unpleasant taste in his mouth. But he couldn't pass up his uncle's offering. He braced himself, then gulped down the whole cup in one go.

Halloween Nostalgia

Maria pawed through her purse one last time, ensuring she had everything she needed, followed by an affirmative nod of the head. She looked up to her eldest son, home from college for a week, and beamed. "Thank you for looking after Carlos tonight," she said with a glance over to her youngest, who was engrossed in a battle on his Switch. "Remember to stick to the neighborhood, don't go any further than Maple Avenue, and be home before eight! I don't want you staying out all night. And don't forget to-"

"Don't worry mom," Gabe interrupted. His mom always worried. "We'll be safe."

"And Carlos." Maria leaned down to speak quieter. "Thank you for amusing your brother, I know Halloween isn't your favorite."

"Aha..." Carlos mumbled, keeping his focus on his game.

"You say it like I'm forcing him to go!" Gabe said with a exaggerated pout. "Now hurry along or you'll be late." He waved his mom goodbye, then ran to the storage cupboard where he'd stored two bags, each containing a costume. The words "Costume Plaza" in big balloon letters adorned each one. He chucked the largest bag to Carlos, who grumbled as he paused his game. Gabe was practically bouncing with energy. "I hope you're ready for a spook-filled night!"

"You know I'm not." Carlos groaned, taking his bag by the handle. "But you'll never shut up about it if I don't."

"That's the spirit!" Gabe cheered, watching as his brother slunk towards the stairs. "We should leave within the hour if we don't want to miss the good candy!"

Carlos stomped upstairs with his bagged costume, clearly unhappy with the situation. As for Gabe, he couldn't wait to try his costume on. He carefully slid the garment out of its bag and gazed upon its beauty. Well, it was a cheap looking Loki costume, the kind made for a kid. But the difference was that this was actually magic. Though, now that he had it in hand, he had to admit that he had his doubts. It was clearly made for a child half his size. What if the claims were bogus? He'd be fifty bucks down with a tattered costume and major humiliation... 

"Well, here goes nothing..." He took his clothes off and began to put this tiny costume on. The first thing he noticed was just how stretchy it was. It actually stretched to fit his entire body, albeit incredibly tight. He felt like if he were to move any part of his body, it would suddenly rip. He waited motionless for a few seconds until he noticed the room expanding around him. He was shrinking! It was like the costume was pulling itself back to its original size, and it was taking him with it. He felt a weird wooshing as he crept closer and closer to the floor. Within minutes, he had become a kid-sized Loki. He couldn't help but marvel at what had happened. He stroked his face, now smooth and lacking his distinctive goatee. He felt energetic and care-free. And most of all, eager to go trick or treating! He just had to make one little arrangement...

Test Subject

 What luck! Just as I was wondering how to discreetly test my latest, ingenius invention, the perfect test subject happened to board the bus. He was your typical, defiant teenager who had decided that long, greasy hair, spiked accessories, and a liberal usage of eyeliner really stuck it to the man. He trudged to the back of the bus, dumping his bag covered with band buttons in the seat next to him. He was completely oblivious to the world around him, oblivious to me and my wonderful invention.

I swung open the device in my lap and aimed the transmitter at the goth, smiling as a list of attributes ran down the screen. Phase one worked perfectly. Now to put it into action... I decided to start with something subtle. Those unsightly ear gauges would do perfectly. I tapped in my desires and held my breath, trying not to stare as I waited... Then it happened! I stifled a squeal of glee as the large, plastic hoops melted and dripped out of his enlarged ear lobes. The liquid glided effortlessly around his ears and joined above his forehead, forming a standard pair of sunglasses. Meanwhile, his droopy ear lobes rolled back up, tightening and molding until there was no sign he'd ever pierced his ears, let alone stretched them out.

I couldn't believe it, my invention worked! I mean of course it worked, I am a genius after all. But to show such promise in its initial test run? I couldn't hope for any better! That goth brat was entirely unaware as well, even when he reached up to touch the sunglasses, only to adjust their position. He didn't notice a thing!

Into The Convention

 So in an unusual turn of events, I'm throwing out a spoiler warning. If you haven't seen Spider-Man: Into The Spider-Verse, then I suggest you do so before reading this. Otherwise, enjoy!

It was a bright weekend morning at the World Plaza Hotel, and the lobby was buzzing with activity. The annual comic convention had come to town, bringing hundreds of cosplaying fanatics to the hotel. The conference halls were packed and everyone was ready for a good time. Everyone except Andy. He stared out of his hotel room window, too high to even make out what was happening down below, and sighed.

The only reason he came on this trip was the convention. When he found our his dad was staying at the hotel for a business trip on the same weekend, Andy pleaded to tag along for the ride. His dad eventually broke down, but there was a catch. Since the trip was strictly for work purposes, they could only visit the convention in the afternoon. Andy reluctantly obliged but in hindsight, he may as well have stayed home given how he couldn’t even leave the room by himself.

At least he still could watch his favourite movie as much as he wanted. He was already on his third rewatch that day. But it was so good, he couldn't bring himself to watch anything else. Plus, it helped hype him up for his first convention. He jumped back on his bed and grinned as an animated Spider-Man appeared on screen. Andy was the biggest Spider-Man fan, maybe ever. He'd seen every movie, every cartoon series, and read some of the old comics that they kept in the library. He even dreamed of Spider-Man every night. His favourite? Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse, obviously. It had not one Spider-Man, but multiple Spider-People! He had almost memorised the script to heart. Yet not even the thrill and hilarity of Miles Morales discovering his new powers could quieten his mind.

Andy looked to his suitcase, where his very own Spider-Man costume lay waiting, his thoughts turning to the previous day. He peeked into one of the conference halls while his dad checked into the hotel, and they were still setting everything up. As he walked away in disappointment, he accidentally bumped into an old man with a thick moustache and sent several boxes crashing to the floor. Of course, he offered to help clean up the mess as any do-gooder would do. He was tickled to learn that the old man was a costume vendor who dabbled in comic and movie accurate outfits. Andy was desperate to see what Spider-Man costumes he had, but his dad interrupted them before he could ask. The old man handed him a business card before scurrying back into the conference room. Andy shoved it into his pocket without even a glance. 

The movie had reached the end of its first act, and Andy was tearing up. No matter how many times he saw it, the moment where Spider-Man sacrificed himself to save Miles always packed a heavy punch. The city had come to a halt to hold a memorial service for Peter Parker, and Miles was preparing to purchase a costume in remembrance. Andy wiped away his tears and shuffled closer to the screen as Miles approached the counter. The shop owner looked mighty familiar. Any Marvel fan worth their weight would recognise the moustachioed old man, but Andy had someone else in mind... He dug into his pockets and pulled out the card he was given. It was solid black with gold lettering. 

JK/SL COSTUMING - THE COSTUME OF YOUR DREAMS

Andy chuckled softly as he wiped a thumb over the embossed words. His dream was to be like Spider-Man, but that was never going to happen. Radioactive spiders weren't real, let alone super powers. He'd done enough research online to know that much. He dropped the card on the floor and looked back up to the screen. He didn't notice as the card shimmered in the window light beam.

Halloween Costumes

Victor sat sulking in his room. Downstairs, he could hear the muffled buzz of activity as his brother prepared the house for the evening's festivities. Their parents were gone for the weekend and Lewis was going all out for Halloween and throwing a huge party, inviting practically everyone in town. Everyone but Victor. He asked to join, begged even, but Lewis was adamant that he wasn't allowed to join in the fun.

While Victor scrolled through YouTube to find a suitable unboxing video to take his mind off of the party, there was a knock at his bedroom door. Lewis entered almost immediately after, holding a flat cardboard box with a bold symbol on top for a store called Costume Plaza. "Hey, it's almost time for the party. You'd better suit up."

Victor sat up rigid. "You said I wasn't allowed to come!"

"Yeah, well I thought about what you said last night and decided that I'd take you up on your offer." He dumped the box on Victor's bed and turned to leave. "You'd better hurry, Bobby's already on his way."

Victor scrambled for the box and tore open the packaging. He cocked his head, confused. It was a black T-shirt, scruffy jeans, and a pair of sunglasses. After pulling everything out to ensure that was the costume, he found a small slip of paper. "Bouncer..." he read aloud. He recalled saying that he could man the door to the party, an obvious joke given how he was at least half the age and the size of all of the party attendees. Surely Lewis wasn't serious... Victor chuckled and mumbled aloud, "I don't know why he bothered. I have all this stuff in my wardrobe."

Still, Victor felt a weird urge to put the costume on. he felt a little embarrassed as he slipped the clothes on and they swamped him. Was this some sort of joke? Well at least the sunglasses would cover his shame, he thought as he slipped them onto his face.

The moment the lenses touched his face, he felt a jolt down his spine and found himself frozen in place. He winced in pain as his body inflated to match the costume size. He almost doubled his height while his body rapidly packed on the pounds, swelling up with thick muscle. His face itched as it squared off and prickly hairs crept across his cheeks. Finally, he felt a cool breeze as all the hair shed from his head. The moment he could move, Victor spun around and threw open his wardrobe, gasping as he looked in the mirror. He stared dumbstruck at the buff, bearded man reflected back. He felt his smooth scalp and his furry face. Then his massive muscles. 

The Wonder Realms

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining us for tonight’s performance of Wizard’s Fury. We hope your visit to the Wonder Realms Resort has been a truly enchanting experience. Until we see you again, have a safe journey home. Thank you, and goodnight!”

The closing announcement was hardly audible over the cries and chatter of the crowd. The smell of smoke and sulphur from the nightly fireworks display lingered in the air alongside the wafts of buttered popcorn and sweat. A wave of thousands slowly bobbed towards the exit. Another day of fun and excitement had concluded as the Wonder Realms closed its gates for another night. The family friendly theme park had been around for years, offering thrills and spills in the Florida sunshine for 50 strong years. It was celebrating its anniversary with a year-long event called the Festival of Smiles where they planned to giveaway fifty thousand prizes to random guests ranging from plush toys up to lifetime park tickets for the whole family.

Hence why Alton had dragged his own family to the Leisure Arcade, a sheltered walkway behind the series of interconnected shops along Market Street, the cobblestoned European-style street that acted as the entrance and exit to the theme park. His family had made an annual visit to the Wonder Realms since he was in first grade. It was his favorite place in the world, almost like a second home. He knew the ins and outs of the massive theme park, and could navigate its entirety with his eyes shut. Even now, his decision to head into the arcade was intentional to avoid the throngs of people who immediately leave the park. But he was on a mission. It was his final day in the Wonder Realms and he wasn’t ready to leave. Not while the Festival of Smiles was ongoing.

As Alton tried to drag his family into the Venezia Emporio store, his dad instead tried to guide him away from the display of seasonal merchandise. “We have to get going, bud. Those suitcases aren’t going to pack themselves.”

But Alton stayed put. “I still haven’t found the perfect farewell souvenir!”

“But Ali, I’m tired!” His little sister Suzie whined. She was starting her first year of school soon, but she still acted like a toddler. She tugged on her mom’s dress and moaned, “I wanna go!”

Looking at his parents desperately, Alton played the guilt-trip card. “Come on, dad. You said it yourself, who knows when we’ll be back.”

Not wanting a meltdown in the final hours of their vacation, Alton’s mom stood by Alton’s side and sighed. “You take Suzie back to the hotel and get a head start on the packing. We’ll get one of the hotel buses back.”

Alton’s dad rolled his eyes, but he didn’t push any further. “OK. But don’t take too long, bud. We have an early start tomorrow, and you know how cranky you get when you haven’t had enough sleep.”

Alton pouted. It wasn’t his fault he was a night owl. He could stay up ‘til morning if he really wanted.

His dad held out a hand to Suzie to hold. “You ready to go, princess?” Suzie held her hands up high instead, and he laughed. “OK, OK”. He lifted her up into his arms and wheezed. He shared a look of “she’s getting too big for this!” with his wife before waving the two of them farewell.

Alton dashed through the storefront and grinned from ear to ear. It was a treasure trove of Wonder Realms memorabilia. Collectibles, figurines, stuffed toys, tacky shirts, quirky kitchenware, the place had it all. While Alton did want a final souvenir, he had mainly entered the large store to increase his chances of receiving a Moment to Smile. He’d been trying to get the attention of anyone who looked likely to hand one out for the entirety of his trip, but no dice. If he hung around long enough, maybe his luck would change. Besides, he always relished a chance to spend more time in the theme park.

Alton picked up a particularly awesome limited edition Funko figurine of Gary Gator and Cecil Croc, the park mascots, riding on Fire Mountain. It would look so cool on the Wonder Realms shelf in his bedroom. But one look at the price tag, and he cringed. “Hey, mom…” he began to ask.

She quickly shut him down. “You’ve already spent enough this trip as it is! Whatever final day souvenir you want has to come out of your own money.”

Alton opened up his wallet and sulked. He had a few dollar bills, and a ton of change. Just about enough to get a collectable pin. He put back the limited edition collectable and sauntered over to the pins. He spun the rack around, looking for something “final day” worthy.

As time drew on, Alton’s mom stepped outside to wait for him instead of getting in the way as he gawked at pins. He had narrowed his decision down to a pin with Gary Gator outside the new Planetary Showdown coaster, or the special 50th anniversary pin with the theme park’s icon, the imposing Merlin’s Tower that sat in the center of the park. Truthfully, he was only biding his time and stretching things out before he had to leave for good. Maybe his indecision would attract the attention of one of the frighteningly cheerful park employees, colloquially known as realm artisans. He ummed and ahhed loudly until he heard a chipper voice to his side. “Excuse me sir, do you need any help?”

Alton jumped at his sudden appearance, and looked up. He stammered “Uhm, no. Yes. Maybe. If you don’t mind. Just, uh, deciding on pins.”

He couldn’t help but feel intimidated by the man. He was fantastically buff, more than double the size of Alton himself. His uniform was taut across his athletic frame, the sleeves looked ready to burst. He’d never seen a man so packed with muscle in his life, not up close anyway. He’d seen statues in museums, and he’d seen wrestlers on TV but they paled in comparison to the real deal. Yet despite his overtly masculine body, The man had soft, inoffensive features framed by short, golden curls. There was an ethereally ageless beauty that made him look both young and old at once. Like every realm artisan, there was a smile permanently fixed to his face. However, he radiated authentic charm unlike a majority of the employees who faked their cheerful façade. Alton glanced at his name tag: Magnus, no last name.

The man placed a hand on his hip and the other against the wall, leaning forwards. “Last day huh?”

Alton slumped his shoulders in self-pity. “How could you tell?”

“I see this ploy often. Nobody likes to leave the most amazing place on the planet. But you seem more stubborn than the others…” There was a lilt to his voice, a slight Irish accent. He crouched down to one knee and rested his elbow on his bent knee, his chin on his fist. His flexed arm could have been thicker than Alton’s head. “Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong. Maybe I can provide some assistance.”

Alton sighed. Normally he wouldn’t tell a complete stranger his woes, especially one so frighteningly swole, but the man had a compelling charm that made it difficult not to spill his guts. “Well my dad got a new job recently, in Canada… We all have to move with him, and that means a lot of changes. A new home, a new school. But the worst change is no more Wonder Realms… Do you know how much a flight from Ottawa to Florida costs? More than the amount gas costs to drive here from Georgia. And that’s one ticket! My dad said we can’t afford to come back again for a while. So this is my last visit to the Wonder Realms for the near future…” He pouted and looked to the ground. He was normally sad when leaving the park for another year, but he always had that glimmer of hope knowing they’d be back the following year. This time, however, that glimmer had been extinguished.

Magnus clutched his chest and tutted. “There’s no frowning in the Wonder Realms,” he claimed, making Alton crack a smile. He stood back up with a swing of his mighty arms. "That sounds like a rough time for you, buddy. I’d love to help, but I can’t exactly magic up a relocation for you.”

Alton sighed. “If only… then I could spend all my time at the Realms instead of a few days a year.”

The man’s expression changed slightly. He still smiled, but it seemed more cunning. Almost mischievous. “You’d really like that huh? To grow up with the Wonder Realms?”

“More than anything!” Alton cried. But that was impossible. If only his dad had gotten a job in Orlando instead of Ottawa. Then he could practically live in the park. Maybe even become a realm artisan himself when he was older.

Magnus stroked his chin with a smirk. “Tell you what, I’ll give you a discount on both of those pins, plus I’ll throw in a little something to help with your troubles.“

When Magnus turned his back to guide him to the nearest cash register, Alton pumped his fist in the air and silently cheered. This was it, his Moment To Smile! His mind raced at the possibilities. A VIP tour of areas not usually accessible to guests. A week in the luxurious Wonder Realms Hotel & Spa. It could even be a lifetime pass! Then they’d have to come back to the Wonder Realms next year! They really did go above and beyond in this place. Just another reason Alton was a Realmhead. The online theme park fan community he was a part of referred to themselves as such. He didn’t have much of a social circle outside of the internet. While plenty of teens liked and visited the Wonder Realms, his obsession with the park didn’t go down well among his peers. Maybe folks were more open-minded in Ottawa…

With the added discount, the pins came to exactly the amount of change Alton had left, tax and all. As he emptied his faux leather wallet onto the counter, Magnus reached underneath it and produced a tiny box. He placed it alongside his purchase. “I hope this brings you a smile,” he began. “And I hope I see you again real soon,” he added with a sly wink.

Alton picked up the box and raised an eyebrow. It certainly wasn’t a lifetime pass, that’s for sure. Maybe it was another pin? He opened it up and pulled out an oval shaped name tag, the very same the realm artisans used! However, it had someone else’s name on it. There must have been a mix-up somewhere. Alton looked up to ask the man but he’d vanished. He didn’t understand how such a large man could get lost within the crowd of people still mingling inside the shop, yet he was nowhere to be seen. He flipped the name tag over in his hands and winced. "Ow!” He’d pricked his thumb on the safety pin on its backside. He frowned and dropped the box into his backpack, a gift was a gift after all.

Santa Hat 12

All was busy at Matty's house as their family Christmas gathering was underway. Relatives of all ages were spread throughout the house waiting for the signal they could all exchange gifts; when Uncle Jim came down the stairs decked out like Santa. Little Matty was especially excited, he looked forward to the theatrics every winter. But this year, he had a special goal in mind. He sat waiting at the foot of the stairs for his uncle to come by and popped the question. "Uncle Jim, do you think that this year, I could wear the Santa suit? Pretty please?"

Jim stroked his large beard in thought. "I don't know... It takes a big man to fill those boots. Heck, I barely fit into the suit. Though that's because I've gotten a little too big over the years..." He slapped his big belly for emphasis.

With a frown, Matty whined "Come on, I wanna be Santa this year!"

"Hold on...". Jim grabbed the Santa hat off his bald head and placed it on his nephew's. It slipped down past his ears and covered half his face. Jim chuckled, his belly shaking, and said "Sorry buddy, looks like you have some growing to do before you get to wear the suit! Maybe next year."

Matty pulled the hat back to sit on his head and flared his nostrils in annoyance. Jim squeezed upstairs to get prepared for his act, leaving Matty alone in a huff. Not big enough... His uncle was such a large man, he'd never achieve such a size in time. If only there was a way to get big quickly... Alas, nothing came to mind. Still fuming, Matty muttered under his breath "I wish I was big enough to wear that suit..."

Vignettes: Black Friday

For the first time ever, the Magic Curiosities Emporium is having its very own Black Friday sale, and it's all thanks to me. It's been a few years since Master Mitawi offered me the opportunity to work under him as his apprentice. Well, more like forced me after aging me thirty-something years and refusing to turn me back into a teenager, but that's water under the bridge! I've grown to enjoy my line of work, and I've improved in my own magical skills. In fact, it was me who suggested we join the other shops in Black Friday. Mitawi was unconvinced, until I explained how we could deliver magic while reducing waste. We have so much junk in storage, stuff we couldn't even give away because it doesn't work right, or needs to be disposed of properly, or could be "dangerous" if you sold it and how could you even suggest giving a child one of... Ahem... So, we're having a little clearance sale while it's the right time for it.

The bulk of our clearance comes from expired potions. Yup, even potions have use-by dates and when they're no longer viable for consumption, we have a very delicate and complicated process of neutralising the effects before dumping them. Because the potions are still magic, and will still do what's intended. It's just that they come bundled with unwanted side effects. Or maybe it's a welcome side effect, It depends on who you ask. We do also have the occasional non-potion item on sale as well. Products we can't sell due to them being packaged wrong, or they don't work quite as intended. Normally they'd be locked away until their magical properties wear off. Now we're selling them at highly discounted prices! We've made quite a few sales today, which made my master happy, and of course, the ensuing chaos we created was a fun bonus.

Missing The Dance

My friend, Alex, and I were supposed to be going to the end of year dance at school, yet for some reason he was ignoring me. I'd been waiting outside his house for 10 minutes now. I rang the doorbell for a third time. "Come on dude, I can see you standing there, open the door!" I glared through the frosted windows, waiting for the blurry figure in the corridor to move. "The dance started half an hour ago. You've spoken non-stop about it for the past month!" I waited a few more moments until I sighed in faux-disappointment. "Oh well, I guess you left me with no choice but to use the spare key you keep under the-"

"NO!" he shouted, suddenly rushing to the door and slamming his weight into it to prevent me from opening it. "I already told you. I've come down with something, and I don't want you to catch it." He coughed a little before continuing "It's a shame I can't go, but don't worry. Just go without me."

I weighed up my options. He did sound unwell. his voice was rough and gravelly. But he once went to Six Flags with pneumonia, so I know even illness wouldn't keep him away. "I'm not leaving this doorstep until you're by my side bro, you know that."

He sighed and said "I do... But it's hard to explain. I can't leave the house, not like this..."

"What is it, a huge zit on the nose? Horrible haircut? Ugly rental suit?"

"It's difficult to put in words..." There was a moment of silence until he sighed loudly and grumbled "fine. I'll show you. But don't freak out or anything! It's going to be a shock."

Vignettes: Halloween Costumes

Miles entered Costume Plaza with awe. He'd never seen so many costumes in his life! He didn't know where to begin looking. He was eventually drawn to a rack near the entrance labelled "LAST MINUTE COSTUMES!". He swept through the rack, until he discovered a bag filled with army wear, labelled "Demolition Hawk". The name sounded somewhat familiar to him. Curious,  he brought the bag into the changing room to jog his memory. He pulled on a long pair of camouflage pants, slipped on the large, heavy boots, and stuck the helmet on his head. However, it seemed like an incomplete costume. Where was the shirt?

His question was answered when he felt a sudden pressure inside his body. He felt himself lurch up to the ceiling, almost doubling in height. Then his body burst outwards with pounds of muscle. His chest comically inflated like balloons into perfect slabs of luscious meat, while his stomach pulsated until a beautiful pair of abs emerged from within. His arms and legs swelled up in quick succession, growing to almost unrealistic proportions. Dark tattoos pierced through his skin, elaborately decorating his right arm and torso. His jawline reshaped itself into a squared off visage, finished off with a perfectly manicured beard.

Astonished, Miles ran a hand across his meaty body, feeling his plump pecs. He traced a finger across the tattoos that adorned his bicep, involuntarily flexing his arm in the process. He looked familiar somehow. He stroked his chin partially in thought, and partially to scratch his facial hair. Suddenly, he remembered. Demolition Hawk! From that gritty 90s army cartoon! He used to watch it with his dad all the time before he started school. He had always admired Demo, always wanted to be like him when he grew up. "Guess I got my wish" he said in a low, rumbling voice, flexing his arm with a grin. Hopefully the Halloween event didn't have too strict of a dress code.

Santa Hat 11

Santa Hat 10

Santa Hat 9