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[b][u][center]A Gift of a ‘Sona

A Stocking Stuffer Story

Sponsored by TerinasTiger

Gifted to Lupesoule

By Draconicon[/center][/u][/b]

Michael knew something was going to happen this Christmas Eve, and he even knew that it was going to be life-changing. When certain friends were both this secretive and this excited, he knew that it was going to be something too amazing to be anything less, and hearing from the writer that planned it – someone that had as creative a mind as he liked to think that he did – that it was going to be the best Christmas ever? Well, that meant that it probably would be.

So, like a little kid, he ended up staying up far too late. There was no chimney in his little apartment, nothing like the larger place that he used to live in with friends in the north. It was warm and cozy as a bunch of candles could make it, however, and he’d left out the symbolic milk and cookies for a Santa that he knew would never come, but still felt guilty about not feeding. At least, in his dreams. He liked the feeling of putting something out for the ghost of the gift-giver, even if it always meant that there was stuff to throw out in the morning.

But morning was a long way off, and he was getting very, very tired. The last of the Christmas specials had already gone by on the TV, with nothing but the bad early-morning comedies that had stopped being funny almost a decade ago to distract him. His eyes burned as badly as they drooped, and he yawned, the candles turning to glimmering lights of their own as his eyes almost closed.

He caught himself, though, groaning as he shook his head.

“Nnngh…not yet…come on, gotta be getting close…”

Forcing himself to look at the clock beneath the TV across the room, he saw the time blinking at him, almost like it was teasing him. Three-forty-five. Fifteen minutes to the deadline that his friends had sent him.

[i]He’ll get there between midnight and four,[/i] they said. And the writer? ‘Drac’? He’d said that it would be 4 AM latest, too.

[i]Just fifteen more minutes,[/i] he told himself. [i]Fifteen…okay, maybe twenty, just to be sure…[/i]

He smiled despite his exhaustion, getting to his feet to stir off some of the tiredness. There were more cookies in the kitchen, and he could use one, he had to admit.

Michael pulled his robe around him, a glittering star-field of old cartoons on the faded thing. Stars and spaceships, fantasy unicorns and dragons, and all kinds of other things that might have been more suited to a kid’s imagination ran rampant across the purple cloth, and each one brought a different memory and a broad smile to his face. That dragon being something that had given him ideas for dragon-riding stories. That star being the guiding light of a happy, space-faring otter. That unicorn being a friend that trotted alongside him during college, keeping him from feeling too down on himself for not doing as well as he had always been told he could have.

All imaginary things, of course. There were no unicorns, no dragons, no space-ships that had been around for him in those times, but it was fun to pretend. His imagination had always been one of his biggest assets, and it was one reason he kept anything that fed it longer than it really should have lasted.

[i]Heh, this thing is on its last legs,[/i] he thought as he walked out of the living room and into the kitchen, flicking on the lights and digging through one of the cupboards. A hat balanced on the top of the cupboards shifted, almost falling on him before he caught it. [i]Eh, most of my stuff is…[/i]

Like the hats up there. Most of them were some sort of top-hat, the sort that ran long and tall, and most were damaged either by rain, light, or dust, but he couldn’t bring himself to get rid of them. They were sort of a collection, a series of badges of different parts of his life. Things that had earned their place on a mantle, as far as he was concerned. He pushed the purple one that had almost fallen on his head back into place, making a promise to himself to dust them off and clean them, and knowing that he’d probably forget by morning to do just that.

He pulled down a box of fudge cookies, pulling the plastic tag off the top and pulling three out. One went right into his mouth, forcing some sugar into his system, while the rest went onto a napkin. A momentary debate ended with three more going into the pile, and he carried them back to the living room.

He’d just sat down, groaning at just how much more of a relief that was – another new year’s resolution, as far as he was concerned, to get rid of that extra weight – when something else caught his attention.

He hadn’t turned on the light, but the living room seemed a lot brighter than it had been a few seconds ago. Turning around, he looked back at the miniature Christmas tree that he had set up in the corner, only to see that it was glowing brighter than the various normal lights he’d have used at other times of the year. He blinked, slowly following the line of Christmas lights that ran out from it and around the border of the room, and realized that everything Christmas-y was starting to get much, much brighter.

[i]Either the most gentle power surge in my life is going on, or…[/i]

Or something big was about to happen. Considering everything that he’d heard, he was hoping for the latter, and a big grin crossed his face, splitting the beard he’d been growing through the year. He sat up a little straighter, grinning and wiggling on the couch.

“Mmmm, come on, come on…”

The expectation of a grand surprise was driving him nuts. The lights grew brighter, and then started cycling, which should have been impossible. There were all kinds of reasons why that shouldn’t have been happening, the last of which was that they were solid white lights, not green and red, but now they were. They flickered, casting a dancing glow over the living room, and he giggled despite himself.

“Ooooooh, this is gonna be goooooood.”

Weird stuff was his jam. He loved it. Utterly adored it, really. He half-reached for his phone, then stopped. Not because it was so late, but because he didn’t want to ruin this. He wanted to enjoy it, not miss it because he started streaming it.

And a good thing that he didn’t. He might have missed the first shift in reality.

His mouth dropped open as the edge of the air vent at the top of his wall suddenly dropped. Not falling off the wall, but stretching, hitting the floor. Just when he thought his jaw couldn’t drop any further, fire bloomed, not in a dangerous, apartment-consuming fashion, but rather in a way of a nice, roaring fire in a fireplace. The stretched-out vent grate turned from metal to brick, running up the wall to the ceiling, and then past it.

And from the new fireplace came the ‘ho ho ho’ sound that he had always dreamed of as a kid. He leaped from the couch, stumbled on the edge of his carpet, and hit the ground. He groaned, but crawled as fast as he could to the fireplace.

“This isn’t…oh my god, oh my – oh gods oh gods oh gods –”

He was all but flapping at that point, sitting up on his knees and pulling his hands to his chest as he squealed with glee. This couldn’t be real. This had to be a dream.

But what if it wasn’t?

The clock on the other side of the room ticked over to 3:50 AM, and as it did, two large black things slammed down into the fire. They didn’t burn, but they did crunch on the wood. Michael pulled back, grinning wider –

And then blinking as a red-suited [i]dragon[/i] stepped out of the fireplace. Sure, the suit was right, bright red with white cuffs and a black belt, but it wasn’t [i]Santa.[/i] He blinked, cocking his head to the side as he looked up, only to see familiar white eyes looking down at him.

“Wait…wait…” Michael stared. “Drac?!”

The dragon coughed, puffing out a soot-black breath, waving his hand in front of his face as he nodded. Michael slumped back, his mind trying to race, but it felt like the mental engine was kind of stuck in first gear, and stalling there besides. The impossibility…

[i]Furries don’t exist,[/i] said one part of his brain.

[i]Well, they do NOW![/i] said the part that was still staring at the dragon.

“What are you doing in my – how did I get a – how do you exist?!” Michael said, momentarily unable to find a question to ask before setting on the obvious one. “This – oh my GOD this is awesome, but –”

The dragon coughed again, gesturing for something to drink. Reminded of the fact that the dragon had just dropped down a smoke-filled chimney – specifically one that hadn’t been there just a moment ago – he lunged for the glass of milk that he’d put out. He held it out and the dragon chugged it down, eyes watering for a moment before he managed to drain the entire thing.

They both stepped away from the roaring flame after that, moving to the couch. The black dragon dusted himself off – not that it changed his scale color at all – and then sat down beside him. Michael was still all but vibrating, trying to sort out what was going on, but too excited to care if he got the answers right then or not. He was sitting with a good friend, and a dragon to boot, on Christmas Eve.

“Holy cow…holy cow…holy eeeeeeeeeee!”

“Heh…well…” Drac coughed. “Guess I should have guessed you’d be this excited.”

“I’ve got a Santa Dragon. What else would I be?”

“Heh…”

“So…”

“Thousand questions, right?” Drac asked.

“…Well, I’d ask what you got in your sack for me, but knowing you…”

“Pervert.”

“Hey, who’s the porn writer here?” he asked, laughing. “Wait. Are you –”

“Yep. Long story of how I got turned into Drac, but, well, it’s still the me that you know.”

“…Soooooo, if I were to start teasing –”

Click. Drac snapped his fingers, and just like that, Michael stopped talking. Not necessarily out of respect, either, but because there was a wriggling black glob of [i]something[/i] in his mouth. He blinked, looking down, touching it, realizing it was real, and –

Well, it was not inaccurate to say that he started beaming and stimming, flapping again, hands moving up and down like he was trying to fan himself, giggling happily through the gag. Oh, it was real. Magic was real. Dragons were real. And he had a Santa Dragon on his couch. Oooooh, this was Christmas alright.

“Let’s not get into that kind of teasing, okay?” Drac asked.

“Mmmph.”

“I’m not here for that kinda fun.”

“Mmph?”

“Well, maybe after the real reason I’m here.”

“Mm-hmm-mmmph?”

“…Okay, I can’t pretend to understand that.”

Click. Another snap of the dragon’s fingers, and the wriggling black ball disappeared again. Michael stuck out his tongue, licking his teeth to see if there was anything left behind. Nothing. Hell, it might have actually cleaned his teeth off. They felt a little smoother after that, for some reason.

The dragon settled back, and he glanced down. Yep, Drac had come barefoot, no black boots for the Santa Dragon, though he had kept the rest of the outfit, from the black belt to the red suit to the red hat with the white puff-ball at the tip. He chuckled, shaking his head a few times.

“Don’t suppose that you already have a few elves?” he asked.

“Not that there haven’t been volunteers, but this is a one-time thing,” Drac said. “I’m not actually Santa. I’m just…playing one this year.”

“And going around to –”

“Already hit up Gann, and a few of the others.”

“Oh god.”

“And I wanted to make sure to get you, too.”

“Oh…god…You mean –”

“I’ve got all this magic now,” the dragon said. “And I thought, hey…why not help a few people get what they want, huh?”

Michael blushed. He opened his mouth –

“I already did four other major donations of time and effort. A couple billion siphoned off of the super-rich into better causes, as well as a few people…disappearing,” the dragon said, holding up his hand to stifle any complaints. “And I made sure that all our friends are going to have a far better year than the last one.”

“…”

“But you deserve some happiness too, man. You did a lot for people this year. You should get something for yourself. And I think…well, you’ve always been more comfortable when you have something to lean on. I could give you money, but I think…well, you might want those hats to mean something.”

“…Oh god…”

“Heh, let’s stop calling on a pantheon that doesn’t exist. Michael…you want to be Ide for 2022? With all that means?”

Ide. Short for Idesin, short for Idesin Otter, otter attorney, time lord, and general creature of imagination, chaos, and insanity, wearer of top-hats and protector of all that were soft and squishy and cute. His ‘sona, really, just as Drac had been his friend’s ‘sona, something to inhabit and be and idealize until there were days when imagining being that, and acting as close to Idesin as he could, was the only way for him to feel like he was still making progress. He shivered at the thought of actually getting that, looking down at his hands, imagining them covered in fur, the fingers and thumbs webbed together, little pads popping out on his palms and fingers, and that spreading…

Being something…something nice…something with…

The hats. Having those continue to mean something. Having his imagination come to life and do all those things that he had always meant to do. He imagined it, and it sent a shiver of happiness down his spine.

“Oh man…that’d be awesome…”

“Heh, is that a yes?” Drac asked.

“Fucking hell, man, that’s a yes!”

“Alright, alright. Let’s just start with one. Grab a hat for me?”

Michael was off the couch and running so fast that his robe went up, and it was only on hearing a wolf-whistle from the living room that he remembered that he hadn’t actually put anything on under the robe. He blushed, pulling it back down. It didn’t matter how many times that he and Drac had RPed over the years; it was still just a little embarrassing to flash a friend your ass when you weren’t expecting to do it. Confidence needed a little preparation, after all.

It didn’t take more than a second to pick the hat for this. There was a deep purple one sitting on the top of the cupboards, one that had a paper band wrapped around the base that had cookies printed on it. Faded, yes, but still lovely. He took it down, very, very carefully dusted off the top and the brim, and blushed as he realized just how long that had been sitting there. Ten years? No, more like fourteen…god, that had been a long time.

But this was the perfect one, as long as he treated it with care. He held it like a precious family heirloom, carrying it with care to the living room once more. The black dragon held out his hand, and Michael tentatively handed it over.

“Just…careful…it’s really delicate.”

“It won’t be in a minute.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get that. But right now, it is.”

“I know. And I’ll be careful.”

“Please…”

Drac nodded, moving it with great care to his lap. The dragon closed his eyes, holding his hands over the brim of the hat. Red and green lights, the same as the Christmas glow from around the room, began to bloom from between his fingers. Michael cocked his head to the side.

“I thought you used black fire for your magic?”

“It’s a variable thing. I’m pulling on Christmas magic right now.”

“That’s a thing?” Michael blinked.

“A lot of stuff is…and I need quiet for this.”

“Sorry.”

He all but stuffed a fist into his mouth to keep from making more noise, but it was harder than he expected to keep quiet. The fact that he was getting something magical on Christmas was awesome enough, but combining that with getting to be Ide, imagining what he’d do with all the things that the otter was capable of? That had him all but bouncing up and down on the spot. His grin was so wide that he probably could have fit his fist in his mouth, come to think of it.

As the dragon’s fingers danced in weaving symbols, the purple hat brightened. The deep color recovered some of its vibrancy, the sun-spotting and fading that it had undergone over the years before it was shelved healing. It was almost like someone had put the thing in a time machine, taking it back, back, back in time to where it had been at its best.

Then, it got even better. His eyes went wide as he saw shimmers of ghostly images, ranging from the tame to the downright insane, from the clean, fun adventures that had popped into his mind at the time to the downright debauched fantasies that he had helped indulge in text. He saw a kangaroo in a dog kennel. He saw a spaceship flying through the stars with bears, slugs, and more. He saw a forest filled with friends. He saw a bar filled with cookie-eating patrons. He saw so many things, all drawn out of the hat for a moment before sinking back in.

With each addition of those figments of his imagination, the hat seemed to grow stronger, sturdier, more beautiful. It shimmered as if it had been dipped in glitter, and he barely restrained himself from clapping in joy. The band of cookies at the base seemed to spin, the cookies themselves dancing like gifs on a message-board. It was…it was so childish, in some ways, but so full of wonder in others.

Then, it was done. Drac’s fingers went dark, and he lifted the hat from his lap. The whole thing shimmered, sparkling like a key item in a game or like some magical artifact from a fantasy story. In some ways, it looked almost more real than the rest of the world around it.

“Here you are. All you have to do is put it on,” Drac said.

“And…and that’ll make me…”

“Ide. And as long as you wear it, you’ll stay that otter, and when you take it off, you can go back to being Michael.”

“You’re turning me into a superhero here, Drac.”

“Well, a super-otter.”

“Mmmmmmm! Gimme!”

He swept the hat up, and it felt right. The hat felt [i]right[/i] in a way that it hadn’t for so long. There was something sturdy to it, as if all the life and wonder that he had pulled together for his friends had lent it a power and strength that would last for centuries, if not longer still. With another happy squee, he jammed it down on his head.

It was like a waterfall of warmth running down his spine as soon as it made contact, and he grinned.

“Ooooh, that feels…that feels good.”

“It gets better,” Drac said, crossing one leg over the other.

“Should…should I get naked for this?”

“It might be more comfortable.”

“Heh…you just want to see a naked otter,” he said, blushing despite himself as he reached for the tie around his waist. “Perverted dragon.”

“Well, a little. But I also want you to be happy, man.”

There were a hundred things that he wanted to say then, from the usual brush-offs of just wanting that for other people to the quasi-depressed statement of being happy enough already to just the soft ‘thanks’ that was the most that his happy-shy self could summon, but it was too late for any of that. The sugar-cookie warm feeling – and that was really the only way that he could think to describe it – running down his spine brought with it a different kind of warmth as he got his robe off, something that ran outwards from his spine along his back, and over his shoulders, too.

He turned to see it, watching as the thin strands of body-hair that he was used to thickened up, becoming a light brown along his shoulders and a deeper cream color along his chest and stomach. His hands danced along his body, feeling the growing, thickening fluff, and a smile that he swore couldn’t get bigger proved that it could. The warmth that it trapped kept him from feeling cold, and the roaring fire at his back only seemed to encourage that happy feeling to keep spreading along his body.

“Hee…hee hee hee!”

And the giggles started, and he just couldn’t stop. One hand kept exploring his body, while the other went up to his hat, holding it tight to his head. So tight, almost too tight. If it had been as fragile as it had been just a few minutes ago, his fingers would have ripped right through the brim, but at that moment, it was strong enough to take…well, anything. He pulled it down until his head felt a little bruised, even as he felt the first shifts of his face, his ears rolling out and rounding before moving up along the sides of his head.

Drac smiled and nodded at him.

“You’re looking cuter by the second.”

“Mmmph…Come on, man…”

“What? You were always adorable. This is just making it more official.”

“Nnnnnnngh!”

He pulled the hat down harder, and realized just how much it had changed as it actually pulled down over his eyes. There was a moment of realizing just how deep it went, too, to the point where he could pull a white rabbit and disappear back into the hat if he really wanted to.

He didn’t want to – not then, at least – but it was amazing to find out that he could.

Pulling the hat up enough to see his mouth and nose popping out into a muzzle, Michael did his best to keep his head on straight, to not get all overwhelmed. Yet, would he really be blamed if he did? He was [i]becoming[/i] Idesin, taking on all those traits, all those cute little things that otters had, from the soft ears to the cute, boxy muzzle that was posted all over the internet for serotonin-deprived viewers. He was cute. He was going to be even cuter, too, as the fur and the changes spread down his body.

Unlike some river otters, Idesin had never been [i]that[/i] slender. He’d always been just a bit chonky, and that remained, though it was a slimming down from his human form to that. Some of the weight that he’d been planning to lose in the new year went with the old body, allowing him to take on something that was a little healthier and a little bit more comfortable for him. As his tum and his sides pulled in, he ran his fingers over his remaining belly, and thought that it was fine. A little gut for fish –

[i]Feeeeeesh.[/i]

Was fine. He giggled even as he felt the first ottery chirp rising up from his changing voice-box. The happy holiday tingle running down his spine seemed to be lengthening, too, running into his tailbone, and that would be going out further soon enough. He’d read the stories to know what would happen next with that.

He stumbled forward, resting his hands against his couch as he felt the tingling going out from his fur and flesh, pulling something out from under his skin. That would be the tail, but even so, he was a little more interested in –

“Mmmph…D-Drac, question for ya.”

“Shoot,” the dragon said.

“Mmmph…why does…why does this feel…this good for someone that’s a-asexual?”

“No idea. Probably a mix of chemicals building up in massive quantities combined with an emotional release of being something that you’ve wanted to be, but couldn’t swear to it.”

Either way, he was shivering, moaning as his dick started rising up. A thick-tipped thing, it had always been a little bit short of the furry ‘average’ of something too big for most people to take, but that was already changing. He could feel a fuzzy sheath rising, pulling at the bottom of his cock and dragging it back against his groin. His balls, already quite full from the lack of any real action lately, were fuzzing over, dropping down, becoming those lovely orbs that he had teased many a friend with in RP.

But it was that feeling of his dick changing, feeling it going into that tube and swelling up, that made him shiver. One leg kicked, stomping on the ground, and he curled his fingers tightly as the changes ran over them, claws tipping his hands and almost ripping through the back of the couch, all while a thin layer of webbing ran between the digits.

Crunch, crunch. For a moment, he thought those were his bones grinding on each other, but no, that was the dragon eating the cookies that had been left out, munching on them like popcorn as the otter emerged from the human.

“Mmmph…”

“Feeling good?”

“Feeling…oh god…feeling great…” His cock started rising from his sheath, and he had to resist reaching down to touch it as it kept growing. Five inches previous, but now six, now seven. It topped out at eight, leaving him with a goodly-length to drip on the couch. “Nnngh…that’s…that’s not canon.”

“You can change it,” Drac said, shrugging. “The hat’s yours to use, after all. If you want something shorter, you can have that.”

“Mmmph…”

“Or you can enjoy this. Your choice. But it’s all about you being happy.”

And he was happy, that was for sure. Even as he felt the fur running down his legs, the same transformation hitting his toes as had hit his fingers, he felt [i]very[/i] happy. And not just in that sexual happy way, but in a comfortable, good way. It was…

It was like coming home, he realized, coming back to something that he had left behind. All that time that he had been fighting, struggling, pushing for a good life, he had barely had time for this. And now…

Now, reality was going to have a nice little dose of fantasy in it. This year was going to be better.

Pop. Pop-op-op-op.

He groaned, almost stumbling over as his tail came in with rapid expansions of his spine. He slumped over the back of the couch, tongue hanging out as the last of the transformation took over. The taste of the couch top wasn’t that good, but he didn’t mind as he just rode the waves of endorphins that came from the transformation, new cock drooling on the back of the couch, webbed toes curling.

“Mmmm…”

“It’ll be faster in the future, like a flash transformation,” Drac said. “Just, uh, have clothes ready for going back to human.”

“Mmm-hmm-hmm,” Michael-Idesin giggled in response.

“A little high on stuff right now?”

“Oooooh yeah. High on cheer. And otter-happy-thoughts.”

“Want fish?”

“Feeeeeeesh.”

“Heh, I’ll see if I can make something,” Santa Dragon said, getting to his feet and making his way to the kitchen. “I got half an hour before I’m due at Ailsa’s, anyway.”

Nodding, the otter rolled over on the couch. Previously, that sort of maneuver would have either broken the couch or sent him rolling over the edge to hit the floor. This time, with the help of the hat, he was just using cartoon logic. If he didn’t [i]see[/i] that he was floating off the ground, then he wasn’t subject to gravity.

He pulled the hat down over his eyes, hiding the little tears of happiness that came from being the otter. Fantasy had let him escape to that body time and time again, and now…well, now he had the chance to turn that fantasy, and others, into reality.

Was 2022 going to be a hell of a lot lewder than 2021? Maybe, but it was also going to be funnier, happier, gentler. The hat had a lot of capability to it, and with all the schooling he’d given himself since he’d put the hat on the shelf, he was pretty sure that he could put it to use better than younger him ever could.

[i]This is gonna be a good year…[/i]

“Merry Christmas, my friend,” the dragon called from the other room.

“And every other holiday,” Michael-Idesin said.

[b][u][center]The End[/center][/u][/b]

Summary: Michael stays up late for a Christmas mystery gift, and ends up with one hell of a surprise.

Tags: M/solo, Transformation, Cock Growth, Human, Otter, Dragon, Magic, Emotional, Christmas Magic, StockingStuffer2021, Stocking Stuffer, StockingStuffer, Nudity, Friends, Christmas, Holidays,