Stocking Stuffers

  Stocking Stuffers

  Sara James

  Copyright © 2014

  This is a work of fiction. All of the locations, situations, products and characters depicted are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance of the characters within to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Max hated the mall. He only went there voluntarily if they had a classic car show, or to pick up the latest video game release, or to do his Christmas shopping. Even at Christmas time, he didn’t really enjoy going there. It was more like a necessary evil that he was forced to endure.

  That’s why even though it was about the last place he wanted to be, he was at the mall. He had to. It was time to make his annual pilgrimage to buy Christmas presents for his family.

  Walking was a chore. It seemed like half the city was there. The crowd was thick and slow moving. All of the people ahead of him seemed oblivious of other people until they were on the verge of colliding, forcing them to pause and do the “you go first” dance. The constant pause and shuffle slowed the pace of foot traffic down to a near standstill. When he was younger and thinner, he avoided the issue by darting around people like he was in some kind of video game. Older now, such behavior would draw all the wrong kinds of attention. It forced him to move at the same slow walk as everyone else.

  Walking at such a languid pace had it’s advantages. Beyond the family directly in front of him, there was a trio of female mall employees. Dressed as elves, they were wearing leggings in bold holiday-color stripes of red, green and white. Their costumes’ short skirts only accentuated the natural female shape of their long legs and wide hips. The three of them were talking and laughing amongst themselves, lost in their shared camaraderie, unaware of the impact of their charm on those they passed. Eyes followed them, as well as smiles from both men and women. Time itself seemed to slow down around them as they floated through a universe forged by their youth and beauty.

  Max allowed himself to indulge in a personal fantasy of paying Santa for the use of his three elves for the afternoon. “Ho, ho, ho,” he muttered to himself, amused by the double meaning, as well as the thought of Santa as pimp, surrounded by sexy, centerfold-worthy elves.

  The comment should have been swallowed by the general din of the busy mall’s hustle and bustle. Instead, the chubby mother in front of him that was busy herding her four young kids along shot him a dirty look over her shoulder. Her husband glanced back at him with a wink and a knowing half-smile. That drew his wife’s attention. She stared her husband into submission while the children continued to babble on about Santa and presents and candy, oblivious to the minor drama playing out between the adults around them.

  Oops, he thought, surprised and ashamed to be caught. It didn’t stop him from looking at the women and admiring what he saw, but it did suck some of the enjoyment out of it.

  Fifty yards farther along, the young women turned to enter Santa’s Village at the center of the mall. Moments later, the family veered off in the opposite direction, heading for the mall’s exit. Max took the opportunity to walk at a normal pace for a half a dozen strides before he was again blocked by the slow moving crowd. He stretched his neck to see over the heads of the people in front of him. The store that had the ceramic figurines his mother collected was still a quarter of the length of the mall away.

  On his right was a lingerie store. Their window display was a “Naughty & Nice” collection of mannequins dressed in Christmas themed women’s undergarments. Even more enticing was the floor-to-ceiling photographs of real women modeling the holiday bras, panties and negligees the store was selling.

  Focused on the display, Max bumped into another mall employee dressed as an elf. While he wasn’t hurt at all, she was so tiny that he almost knocked her down.

  “Oooff!” she gushed in reaction to their collision, the air rushing out of her slender frame from the force of the impact.

  “I’m so sorry! I was just …” He trailed off, too embarrassed to admit what had distracted him. He didn’t even dare let his eyes wander to the store’s window. “I wasn’t looking.”

  His self-control didn’t seem to matter. The young woman looked at the lingerie display, then at him, then back at the display. “Yeah, no need to explain. I get it.” Her mild frown let him know she didn’t approve. “You were being naughty. So here.” She held out a box wrapped in red and white striped paper, complete with a red ribbon made of felt and a matching bow. She pushed the present at him. “This is for you.”

  “Uhhh,” he droned, confused by her gesture, even as he took the present from her. “Why are you giving me this? I bumped into you and almost knocked you down.” The box was a rectangle, like the kind clothing normally came in. He held it up to one ear and shook it. Other than a faint rustle of tissue paper, it made no sound.

  “Yeah, you did,” she agreed with a fierce smile. “But I’m nice. Besides, putting coal in people’s stockings is so passe. And it ruins the stockings! Anyway, I hope you enjoy your gift. Merry Christmas.”

  It was an odd thing to do, but also generous. He returned her smile. “Thank you. Merry Christmas to you too.”

  Moving around him, she began to walk away. Like he had with the other elves, he admired the way the snug leggings revealed her figure as she moved. Pausing, she turned halfway around, looking back at him over her shoulder with a sly smile and a tiny wave of farewell. “Ho, ho, ho.” She followed up on the words by giving him a big wink. Her laughter was raucous, like the words were some kind of private joke. Several people turned their head to watch her as she skipped away, disappearing into the crowd.

  His heart froze before he remembered that she had been coming from the far end of the mall. There was no way she could have overheard his previous comment about her coworkers. He exhaled in relief. It was, after all, a common holiday greeting.

  Still, he had a feeling that the present was payback for his running into her. She’d been carrying it with her when they collided. No doubt it had been meant for someone else. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be very valuable for her to give it away so easily. She must have thought he would hate it enough for it to count as a punishment. He couldn’t imagine any present being so rude, weird or scandalous that he would be even mildly ashamed.

  He shook his head. Who knew what motivated her? If she thought that giving him a present was some kind of punishment, why not let her think what she wanted to? It wasn’t like it really mattered to anyone but her. Whatever was in the package, he doubted it would change his point of view.

  Reclaiming his place in the slow moving throng, he went back to what he’d been doing before their collision had interrupted his progress. Christmas was still coming and he had presents to buy and chores to complete before the holiday arrived.

  Wrapping presents on the floor in front of the tree while listening to Christmas music was something Max looked forward to every year. This Christmas season was no exception. The TV was set to the cable channel that played holiday music. The picture was a video of burning logs in a fireplace.

  Living alone as he did, there were no distractions as he wrapped presents for his family. Once the presents for his parents, sisters, spouses, nieces and nephews were all wrapped and packed in plastic bags to take to the annual family gathering, he was able to sit back and relax. Not that it had taken him long. One of the advantages of being a single man in his early thirties was that no one expected him to be a fancy wrapper. He could have used newspaper and duct tape and gotten away with it.

  With nothing left to do before going to bed, he sat back, took a long sip of the cocoa that had finally cooled down to the right temperature and looked at his tree. The music made the colored lights and ornaments seem extra special. Because he lived al
one, the only present under the tree was the one the girl at the mall had given him earlier that day.

  Christmas was four days away. By tradition, he couldn’t unwrap it until then. But what was he supposed to do? Take it to his parent’s house? Explain to everyone who it was from and why it had been given to him? That was never going to happen. Especially not if what was inside was supposed to be a punishment or joke at his expense. He was going to have to unwrap it in private. Besides, if he opened it early, who would know, let alone be upset by it? Santa? The ghost of Christmas past? Certainly not the girl that had given it to him. When he chose to unwrap it didn’t matter to anyone but him.

  Allowing himself to make an exception, he reached under the tree and pulled the present into his lap. Unlike the crude, halfhearted wrapping on his presents, this one was immaculate. Every line of every fold of the paper was just right. Even the candy cane striped pattern lined up at the folds. He almost hated to unwrap such a work of art.

  But only almost. He tore at the paper, ripping it to shreds. The ribbon with its attached faux-felt bow was elastic, making it easy to remove. With the box exposed, it was the work of a moment to take off the lid and expose the present inside the box.

  It was a pair of leggings just like the ones the girls at the mall had been wearing.

  He had a momentary flashback to the moment the small young woman had turned to look back at him over one delicate shoulder. “Ho, ho, ho,” she had said, like she had known about his muttered comment while watching the other women. It was just as impossible now as it had been then, but the coincidence was a little freaky. It was more plausible to consider that she might have seen him staring at the lingerie display and had thought that giving him the leggings would be an appropriate prank to play on him. That had to be it. It would also explain why she was carrying the package with her. She must have been giving a pair to someone she knew. Maybe she’d had them wrapped on one of her breaks.

  Even knowing that the fabric must stretch, they didn’t seem large enough to fit any normal size adult. Then again, he reflected, knowing how tight they fit, like opaque pantyhose, perhaps the size shouldn’t come as any surprise. He smiled, remembering how nice they looked clinging to the legs of those girls at the mall.

  The box used was far too large for what it contained. He decided to rewrap the leggings in a smaller box and give them as a gift to one of his nieces. Why not? They would make a pretty good gift for a woman or a girl.

  Max reached into the box, intending to pick the leggings up. The moment his fingers touched the fabric, the garment popped like a soap bubble, transforming into a haze of tiny lights, like glitter thrown into a spotlight. Each fleck sparkled like a tiny lightbulb on a Christmas tree. The collection of glowing motes swarmed like insects, swirling around him before descending on his body from the waist down. The jeans and socks he wore didn’t even slow them down as they filtered through his clothing as easily as light passing through a window.

  He yelped in surprise at the first, tickling touch. Within moments, it felt like he was being attacked by a million tiny feathers from the waist down. He had never been ticklish, but even he wasn’t immune from the giggling fit that consumed him at the sensation. He rolled on the floor for almost a full minute while laughter streamed out of him in uncontrolled bursts. His eyes watered. He was certain he was on the edge of peeing his pants.

  The fit ended as suddenly as it had begun. His skin from the waist down tingled. It almost felt like he’d just stepped out of the shower after a good scrubbing. He sat up, collecting himself. The movement caused the fabric of his jeans to shift, gliding across his skin like a puck on ice, or maybe like bare skin gliding on satin bedsheets.

  He looked at his legs. They looked wrong. The shape was off. His thighs seemed thicker, but his knees and calves seemed more delicate. Even his feet seemed several sizes smaller than they should be. Focusing again on how his legs felt, there was a sense of constant pressure. It was like he was wearing tight dress socks, except they covered all of his legs. It also felt like he was sitting higher off the floor than normal. The floor felt softer too. It was something like sitting on a pillow or a folded blanket.

  There was no logic to it, but he knew that he was wearing the leggings even before he unbuttoned the waist of his jeans and unzipped the fly. Peeling the fabric back to reveal the snug, striped fabric just confirmed it.

  His first reaction was to get the damned things off. He lay back down on the floor, arching his back to get his butt off the floor. It took a lot more arching and effort than he expected to lift his hips high enough to clear the carpeting. When he did, he pushed down on the waist of the jeans, only to have them resist clearing his hips. It took a lot of sweat, grunting and pushing to get them past that obstacle, one slow fraction of an inch at a time.

  When he succeeded, he wished he hadn’t. The wide space between his inner thighs was unnerving to see. Not only did his legs seem to be set farther apart, but the tight leggings revealed that his groin had become flat and smooth. There was only one way that was possible. It fit with the wider hips, expanded rear end, reshaped thighs and the petite calves and feet.

  From the waist down, he was now a woman.

  His yell of terror was cut short by the fear of what would happen if one of the neighbors investigated, or called the police. The last thing he wanted to do was answer the door wearing skin tight elf leggings that revealed the body parts he now had.

  He took the jeans the rest of the way off. He moaned, distressed not just by the shape of his legs, but how they bent at the hips. It didn’t look right. Maybe it was the joint, or maybe it was the muscle tissue, but the way they folded and moved was entirely female. Much like a woman’s face had all the same parts as a man’s but still managed to look female, his hips seemed to have all the same parts as before while abandoning even a trace of their former male traits.

  With the jeans off, he removed his socks. Wearing only the leggings, he marveled at the sight of his legs. It looked like his body from the belly button down had been replaced by some female model’s body. His hip bones protruded on either side, separated by a firm, flat belly. “Freaky,” he whispered.

  Somewhere in the back of his brain, he was sure that if he took the leggings off, his body would revert to normal. He shook off his shock at what he saw. He hooked the waistband with his thumbs. It was the work of moments to skin out of the thin fabric.

  Nothing changed. His legs, now hairless, were still not his legs. Worse, with the leggings removed, there was no denying that between the legs he was all woman. What was left of his pubic hair was shaped and dyed to look like a tiny Christmas tree, complete with ornaments and a star on top. From his point of view, it was upside down. Clearly it was meant to be seen from someone else’s point of view.

  “What the hell?!?” he griped.

  He threw the leggings aside and looked in the box for some clue to explain why his body had been transformed. Other than the tissue paper, the only other thing was a Christmas card. The cover showed a cartoon Santa using a scoop to put coal into an already overflowing stocking. The name on the stocking was his name: Max. Inside, the handwritten message was written in pink glitter-ink. It read:

  You have been Naughty,

  Behaved like a savage.

  To teach you a lesson

  I’ve taken your “package.”

  If you want it back,

  You’d better be Nice

  Or you’ll be a girl

  For the rest of your life.

  - Holly Day, Elf

  He read it a dozen times, gaining zero insight. Holly Day, the Elf? Holly-Day, as in Holiday? Really? If it wasn’t for his transformed legs, he would think it must be a joke. Only it was no joke. Especially not the part about his missing package.

  It had to be magic, as impossible as that might seem. How else to explain it? Leggings didn’t turn into glimmering specks of light. They didn’t soak through clothing and reform on a person’s legs. And they sur
e as hell didn’t turn men into women.

  Except that these ones had. If that wasn’t magic, what else could it be? A hallucination brought on by too much hot chocolate? That seemed even more unlikely than magic.

  Max stewed, trying to figure out what he could do to undo what had happened. Removing the leggings hadn’t worked. Maybe he could find this Holly at the mall and confront her. If she had done this to him, she could undo it.

  But not until tomorrow. It was late on Saturday night. The mall was closed. He would have to go to the mall in the morning after they opened.

  Looking down, he again saw the upside down Christmas tree. He averted his gaze and blushed. Pressing his thighs together did almost no good. His hips were too wide to allow his upper thighs to touch without crossing his legs in a way that would only further emphasize his transformation. Better to just cover the most dramatic part of the change up.

  But what to wear? Putting the leggings back on wasn’t something he intended to do by choice. He looked around for his normal underwear before remembering that he hadn’t taken them off. They were gone. The only clothing there other than the leggings was his jeans and socks.

  “Crap,” he cursed, standing up. He stomped into the bedroom, opened a drawer and got out a fresh pair of underwear. They, at least, were still normal. He’d gone into the bedroom half-expecting to open the drawer and find it filled with panties. Putting the familiar briefs on, they gripped him in unusual ways, but they were at least still men’s underwear. He also put on the flannel pants he always wore as pajama bottoms. He liked the way the loose fabric helped hide how flat his groin had become. While he was there getting dressed for bed, he went ahead and changed into a t-shirt.

  He cleaned up in the living room, putting the cup for his cocoa into the kitchen sink. The leggings he folded and put back in the box they had come in under the tree. The greeting card with its pink, glittery message went back in the box too. His jeans and socks he put in the hamper in his bedroom.