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Jimmy woke up Christmas morning depressed, as per usual.

He sat up in bed and sighed. They said depression around the holidays was normal. Well, he was living proof. College was...well, some people saw college as a joke, a place to go and party in between classes. Nerds didn't get invited to a lot of parties. He was doing great in his classes and making some side money tutoring people. Those were about the only positive things he could say about college.

In the bathroom he regarded himself in the mirror. Gray fur, darker hands and feet, a ringed tail and a face that could he described as a star shape. Ears, cheek ruffs and muzzle made the points of the star. Even without the bandit mask you could see from the silhouette he was a raccoon.

Jimmy wasn't bad looking. Most people agreed raccoons were among the cuter species. His problem, and well he knew it, was a lack of confidence. He had trouble talking to strangers. Most of the conversations he'd had were with classmates and he'd lost the one college girl he'd tried to date to the bane of his existence.

Well, it was Christmas morning. In an hour he would call his parents and let them know that he was happy and doing well at college. Which was half true, anyway. His mother would assure him that things would get better, because she would know he was lying.

Intellectually he knew that she was right. Things would get better. He was smart, he would graduate with good grades and promptly get hired by an industrial firm or research institute. He just had to get through three and a half years of hell to get there.

The problem was that knowing things would get better didn't make him any happier now. Last year a friend of a friend killed himself due to being bullied. He'd be lying if he didn't sometimes consider it too.

Jimmy paused in the act of putting on his shorts. (He slept naked. He had fur, why not?) What was that noise?

A cup-shaped ear snapped around. There it was again. A thump from the living room.

His apartment had four rooms, or three if you considered the combined living room-kitchen-dining nook as one. Two if you didn't count the little bathroom. He grabbed his phone and peeked cautiously around the edge of the doorframe.

Thump. There was an orange blur and something banged into the wall next to the TV. Jimmy leaned out a bit further and saw a familiar face.

"Great," he said to himself. "Brad. I'm going to get beaten up Christmas morning. Might as well get it over with."

"All right Brad," he said as he stepped out of his bedroom. "Not enough to stuff my head in the toilet and beat me up, now you break into -"

His voice trailed off. It was Brad. That much he'd gotten right. The big tiger was sitting on the floor next to the wall mounted TV. That part he'd gathered from the glimpse of a feline face. What he hadn't seen was that Brad was tied up. Wide strips of red Christmas ribbon bound his arms behind his back and also to his sides, his ankles were strapped together with the same stuff even his fang-filled muzzle bas ribboned shut. There was a festive little bow stuck to the top of Brad's furry head and a tag on a string around his thick neck. It was the tiger's lashing tail that that whacked into the wall and made the thump.

Amber tiger eyes glared at him and Brad tugged with all his strength at the ribbons. He was a big, strong cat, a full head taller than skinny Jimmy and easily twice as heavy. He was on the school football team and he'd been beating a certain raccoon up since grade school.

The ribbons held, somehow. Muscles surged under Brad's striped pelt but the ribbons barely stretched. Jimmy turned around and looked for the camera.

It had to be a setup. Somewhere there was a camera and it'd record all the "fun" things that would happen when Brad got loose. Or maybe he was supposed to abuse tied up Brad and that video would get out and embarrass him. Either way, it had to be a trap.

Jimmy was a lot smarter than Brad. They both knew it. But Brad had some smart friends. If he were going to hide a camera -

Jimmy spent a couple of minutes moving books and the few pieces of bric-a-brac and couldn't find a camera. He'd checked every likely place.

Unless it was on Brad himself. He looked at the tiger again and for the first time realized he was naked. A feline sheath poked up between the stripey cat's muscular thighs.

What the hell was going on? What kind of joke was this? Jimmy reached out and snatched the tag from around Brad's neck.

"To Jimmy," he read out loud. "From Santa."

Brad growled and Jimmy realized the tiger had some sort of gag in his mouth. He couldn't spit it out because of the ribbons holding his muzzle shut. The most he could manage was a whisper.

"Fucking polar bear Santa," Brad growled, and Jimmy looked at the tag in his hand.

Santa used to be a jolly, red-cheeked fat man. That was Santa Claus. About ten years back a new Santa appeared. Santa Binky was a ten foot tall polar bear in a Santa suit. And this new Santa had a different agenda than the old one. He still gave out gifts on his Christmas Eve flight and the kids universally loved him, but he did...other things too.

Many women had come forward with stories about "meeting" Binky on Christmas Eve, for one thing. Those stories always seemed to end end "And it wasn't my chimney he came down."

And then there was the Naughty List. You didn't end up with a chunk of coal in your stocking if you were far enough down that list. You ended up inside a polar bear, or inside one of Santa Binky's many friends. Quite a few people disappeared on Christmas Eve these days and most everyone agreed that the world was a better place for it.

Some people still thought he was a myth. Jimmy wasn't sure, and there were stories about Binky leaving particularly nasty people as gifts for their victims. He turned the gift tag over and saw a folded up note taped to the back

Brad growled and tried to break the ribbons again as Jimmy read it. The raccoon raised an eyebrow and read it again, out loud.

"Dear Jimmy. You are on my Nice list, because you've put up with things that would drive most people to rage or despair. And there is one person above all who has driven you there. He is on my Very Naughty list for this and other reasons. So there he is, in front of you, and you have choices.

You could call the police and report an intruder. You could push him out the door and let him be found. Either would embarrass him greatly. Or you could eat him."

Jimmy looked up from the note, smiled, and kept reading aloud. "Your gift comes with a one time ability to swallow a huge meal whole, and digest it. It's your choice. Maybe one day Brad won't be such an asshole and you'll reconcile. Or maybe his story will end with a burp. It's your choice. No one knows he's in your apartment and you have enough time to digest him before your vacation ends."

"I know what he's put you through. Santa knows if you've been bad or good, and he's been very bad. It's up to you whether he goes back to class in a week or not. Either way, Merry Christmas from Santa."

"P.S.", Jimmy read. "The ribbons are digestible."

"I should have eaten you years ago," Brad growled. "If it weren't for that fucking bear..."

"But you didn't," Jimmy said. He set the note on the little coffee table. Then he reached out and grabbed Brad by the cheek ruffs.

He looked Brad in the eye and thought about the hell the tiger had turned his life into. All the times Brad stole his lunch money, beat him up, stuffed him into a locker. When Jimmy finally found a sport he enjoyed, tennis, Brad showed up and "accidentally" hit him in the eye with a tennis ball. Jimmy almost lost his eye. When he tried to get a gaming group together in high school, Brad's jock clique bullied them until everyone quit. Every time the raccoon managed to talk a girl into a date, handsome jock Brad would hear about it and steal her away.

Jimmy was always too nice or too scared to do anything about it. More than once he almost snapped. Now he looked Brad in the eye and did.

"Not everyone believe in Santa," said Jimmy, and Brad's eyes widened at the growl in his victim's voice, "But I think I do."

Brad's broad muzzle was suddenly inside Jimmy's narrow one, and the tiger's eyes went wide as the raccoon's jaws unhinged. The back of Brad's furry head thumped into the wall as he tried it pull away, but there was nowhere to go. He could only watch in horror as Jimmy pushed forward, his muzzle gaping ever wider. The last thing Brad saw was the raccoon's lips sliding up his cheeks toward his eyes, and then everything went dark and wet.

With his arms bound behind him and to his sides all Brad could do was kick, and Jimmy had already sat in his lap. The raccoon wrapped his arms and legs around the larger tiger and leaned forward until a great globular bulge swelled out his cheeks. It was really happening. He had Brad's whole head in his mouth whereas before he could maybe yawn wide enough to stick a grapefruit in there.

Jimmy hesitated, wondering if he'd get in trouble and, secondarily, if he really wanted to kill Brad. But he only hesitated for a moment. Every nice guy has a breaking point and it was a miracle he hadn't snapped years ago. Jimmy swallowed, feeling the vast bulge of muzzled tiger face slide into his throat, and began to work his jaws methodically over Brad's broad shoulders.

This should all be completely impossible, he knew,: but with the strength of pent-up anger Jimmy rocked his muzzle from side to side and gradually striped tiger pelt disappeared beneath his distended cheeks. He was past the shoulders now and with a great gulp he sent Brad's whole head into his waiting stomach. The tiger spasmed as hot acid stung his eyes and Brad almost managed to dislodge Jimmy from his lap. With a second effort the tiger slammed his back into the wall and caught Jimmy's head between himself and the drywall. Stunned, the raccoon toppled to the side and his weight pulled Brad with him.

If he weren't tied up Brad could have pulled himself free easily, even with his head in Jimmy's stomach and raccoon cheeks stretched thin around his chest. Jimmy was all the way to the tiger's elbows in his swallowing effort but Brad was twice his size and in much better shape. All the muscle built up from years of football and a naturally stronger build was more than a skinny raccoon could handle. If he could just get a grip on Jimmy he'd pull his head out of the raccoon's gut and they would see who ate who today.

But he was tied up, and as the raccoon recovered from the blow to his head Jimmy dug his clawed fingers into Brad's ass fur and pulled with all his might. Brad felt a narrow muzzle slide down his back all the way to his tail-root and his stripey tail fluffed out in absolute terror. They were together on the floor now and he couldn't even smash Jimmy's head against the wall any more. His footclaws unsheathed and he kicked for his life, but there was nothing to hit but carpet. His head and shoulders were in the skinny raccoon's stomach and unless he got loose the rest of him would follow.

Jimmy pulled at the tiger's ass with both hands and suddenly Brad's sheath and balls were in his mouth. There was even a spiny feline tip sticking out to scratch his tongue. He almost gagged, but then he remembered how the balls got there and swallowed instead. The scratchy tip, sheath and balls slipped into his throat and there was nothing left of Brad but a set of kicking legs.

Even now the big cat would be deadly dangerous if his legs were free but they were ribboned together at the ankles and Brad's clumsy efforts to kick and claw him just rammed his knees into Jimmy's ass. That hurt, but each kick also forced the raccoon that much further over the half swallowed tiger. The second kick shoved Brad's hips all the way into Jimmy's gullet. Without the ability to bend at the waist he couldn't even kick the raccoon any more.

Jimmy swore he heard a pitiful whimper from inside him as he went about finishing his meal. Weakened from lack of air the tiger wasn't strong enough to hold himself rigid in the throat and with a terrific effort Jimmy swallowed, using his arms and knees to slowly fold Brad up inside him. Bit by bit the muscular tiger legs disappeared and ring by ring Brad's stripey tail went with them into the skinny raccoon's gullet.

Eventually there was nothing left of Brad but a padded set of footpaws and a last couple of rings of tail. Even so Jimmy viewed the cruelly curved claws protruding from their slits with alarm. If Brad managed even one good kick inside him it might rip him open.

With a bulge in his middle bigger than his entire body and a tiger tail flicking back and forth just outside his jaws Jimmy dragged himself heavily to the bathroom, found the bigger set of claw trimmers he used for his foot claws, and snipped off the sharp tips of Brad's claws one by one. One he cut too close to the quick and the half suffocated tiger flinched as he grazed the nerve, but that was the last claw and before it could start to bleed Jimmy lifted his head from the floor, stretched out his muzzle and swallowed.

His cheeks were stuffed full of padded tiger toes now minus their sharp claws and Jimmy swallowed again. Soft tigery feet squeezed into his throat. With nothing left but a black-furred tailtip Jimmy gathered his strength and swallowed one last time. The tailtip disappeared and the raccoon groaned as twice his weight in tiger slid heavily down his throat.

He thought he was swollen before, and that was with only half the tiger swallowed. Jimmy's body creaked unnaturally as three hundred pounds of tiger arrived in a hundred and fifty pound raccoon's stomach. Gray pelt stretched thin but it barely even hurt and Jimmy instinctively wrapped his arms and legs around the vast bulge to muffle Brad's final struggle. The tiger was almost out of air and was about to meet a humiliating end in the stomach of a raccoon he could easily have overpowered and eaten.

In the wet dark of the thinly stretched raccoon gut Brad kicked one last time, wishing he had his hands or fangs free. He didn't, and and as Jimmy struggled to hold him still the pressure of the raccoon's arms and legs squeezed most of the remaining air out. Acid stung Brad's lips, eyes and protruding cocktip and the last thing he heard was a long, long belch as Jimmy let out all the air that went down with his breakfast.

Bit by bit the curled up tiger relaxed inside Jimmy and bit by bit he relaxed, too. Soon it was clear that Brad was truly dead and a broad smile split Jimmy's furry face. He could feel the muscles and sinews returning to normal in his jaws and torso and knew the note told the truth. This was the one and only time he'd be able to swallow a meal this size whole. And that one time was all he wanted.

"Thank you, Santa," he said to the air. "It's just what I wanted for Christmas."

With a huge effort he managed to stand up. Walking normally was completely out of the question with twice his weight in tiger inside him. It took all his strength, clutching his vast belly like a woman pregnant with octuplets, to waddle back out into the living room and find his phone.

He also found the note. It was blank, and crumbling away to powder. Other than a few scuffs from Brad's claws on the carpet and the claw tips he snipped off, there was no sign the tiger was ever here.

Jimmy burped again. Well, no sign outside his fur, anyway.

According to his phone it took him almost a whole hour to swallow Brad. Time to call mom. His swollen belly was a convenient place to rest the phone as they talked. His parents were disappointed he didn't turn on the video but he found the excuse that there was a problem with the apartment WiFi and he needed to conserve data use on the phone. It was a good excuse that removed any chance of them seeing the three hundred pound bulge in their son's middle.

They talked for an hour and and a half. It was Christmas, after all. All the while a low but growing gurgle rose from Jimmy's stretched gut. The curled up tiger was still firm under the fur but things were starting to happen.

Were they ever. Brad's Revenge, he called it later. He'd been given the ability to swallow and digest his nemesis and had happily used it. It didn't occur to him that what checks in has to check out. Starting just a few hours after he ate the tiger, and every couple of hours after that for four days and nights, he had to waddle to the toilet and expel more of used-to-be-Brad.

A few times he glanced morbidly into the toilet before he flushed. His poop was orange with tiger fur at first and after a couple of days started to turn white with digested bone. It was an inconvenience, but it didn't hurt, and more than once he smiled and muttered "Bye, Brad" before he flushed.

He couldn't go outside. No one could see him until the bulge was gone. That left watching TV, working on term papers, chatting with friends and fooling around on the internet. He had to beg off playing tennis with a friend, claiming he'd put off working on his papers and had to get them ready fast. Jimmy had discovered a talent for lying he didn't know he possessed.

By the fifth day, the Sunday before classes resumed, the bulge was almost gone. Even so, the bathroom scale said he'd gained over twenty pounds. Eating several hundred thousand calories of tiger in one gulp will do that to a raccoon. He walked and later jogged on the treadmill his parents gave him as a apartment warming gift, once his belly got small enough, but Brad's Revenge was a gift that kept on giving, it seems.

Late Sunday morning he grew nauseous and eventually barfed up a mass of orange, black and cream fur the size of a football. Not all of Brad's fur made it out through his plumbing, apparently. He pulled the slimy mass apart and flushed it bit by bit. It disappeared into the city's cloaca along with all the rest of the tiger, even the claw tips he'd found on the bathroom floor. There was simply nothing left of Brad at all, unless you count his new love handles.

Santa was right. He had enough time to digest the tiger and even most of a day to spare. He went back to school the next day and ran into a badger friend on the way to class.

"Hey man," the badger said. "You must have ate a bunch over the holidays." He poked the furry roll standing out from under Jimmy's now too-tight T-shirt.

"My mom sent a ton of food," Jimmy lied. "First Christmas away from home. Sorry I couldn't meet you for tennis."

"It's not just that," Randall the badger said. "I think you put on some muscle too." His claws wrapped most of the way around Jimmy's upper arm. "My claws touched last semester."

"I was stuck in my apartment for a week," Jimmy said. "Digesting Brad", he didn't add. "I had to do something to take my mind off the term papers."

A flick of tail made him turn. Zoe, the cheetah girl he asked out on a date before Brad whisked her away, was looking him over.

"You've put on some weight," she purred. Her eyes went from his sneakers to his star-shaped face. "I think it looks good on you."

"Maybe it does," he said with a smile. And with newfound confidence, "Say, you doing anything Friday night? If you've still got a problem with that calculus assignment, I'll be free to help."

She did still need help, it turned out. And by Friday night, when they were working on calculus rather less and on fooling around rather more, people had begun to wonder what had happened to Brad. No one had seen him since before Christmas.

That question came up many times. Each time Jimmy kept his mouth firmly shut on the subject, which was rather the opposite of what he did on Christmas. He'd just shrug, look at his watch and say he had to go meet his girlfriend.

He was still the class nice guy, but it turns out that in the absence of a nemesis, nice guys don't necessarily finish last.