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The Christmas List

Written by Leo_Todrius

Supported by my Patrons

It seemed like Christmas came earlier and earlier each year. Part of it was literal as Christmas songs began playing in stores before the oven had been preheated for Thanksgiving, but it also felt earlier to those souls sensitive to such things. Perhaps it was a reaction to the growing darkness in the world, or an attempt to have more time to recapture that magic that crystallized in childlike wonder somewhere between the boughs of the tree and the sparkling lights. Still, there was no denying how hard things had gotten.

The sound of scritch-scratching came as a complex mechanism maneuvered back and forth, reticulated arms moving like mechanical spider legs. Rollers continued to move a roll of papyrus-like paper along steadily while the tips of the metallic digits applied ink. While the ink was a bluish-black in the reservoir that contained it, it shone when applied to the papyrus and nearly glowed as the light from the fire in the fireplace danced across it. The ink rapidly dried as it was absorbed into the scroll, but it didn't dry exactly the same.

Line by line, names were scrawled out on the paper. The scroll was being unspooled from one immense roll and being respooled on another. In between, every name in the world was being printed by the machine - all eight billion of them. Most of the names remained a dark bluish-black, just like the ink. Several seemed to brighten in the firelight, almost as if the ink oxidized and turned a festive green. Others seemed to ignite in the firelight, sizzling and searing before turning a rusty red color. Name by name, every person in the entire world.

The fire crackled, the log inside falling apart into smaller composite pieces. It wasn't snowing outside, an absolute irregularity in this particular point in the world. One solitary figure stood in the room, though he remained near the door. It felt too soon, even disrespectful to be where Santa had once worked. At least, the last Santa. The world was changing. It had changed before. To the elves time was cyclical in a way that humans couldn't quite understand. Perhaps they would have found it easier as a spiral… The power of Christmas rose and fell with its meaning, with each era, and with those that celebrated it. Each era, in turn, had its own Santa.

They had enjoyed the leadership of Santas from nearly every race, gender and class over the years. With the most recent Santa having retired, the list would select the next individuals to ensure the success of the holiday and to restore the season's spirit. If the past was any indication, the list would choose those who came from a marginalized group that hadn't entirely escaped the weight of that marginalization. Those that had done without always understood the significance of a true gift, of respect, of basic human dignity. Iain knew the list would choose well and that this Christmas would truly be like no other.

****

When winter had hit, it had hit hard. The sky was gray from dawn to dusk, making it hard to tell exactly what time of day it was. The air had fluttered around freezing for days and while it hadn't rained, there had been enough humidity to frost the grass and what plants had stubbornly held on from autumn. The cold outside made the warm, cinnamon scented air inside the mall a pleasant contrast for Nick - though life always seemed to be a series of contrasts. Nick had never considered himself mathematical, but he certainly did spend a lot of time comparing things.

The six foot tall, three hundred and twenty pound man moved with a confidence and speed that belied his weight. While he was clearly not young, his forehead having pushed his hairline back until his mildly shaggy hair was practically a skullet, he still had a bit of youthful spirit in his eyes. The media would posit that forty wasn't that old, and while Nick still found some joy in life, it was painfully apparent that he was twice the age he wanted to be and of a great many around him. It weighed on him even more that he hadn't hit life's milestones the way anyone had expected. Part of it came from the fact he'd spent the last thirty years taking care of one family member or another. Another reason was that he felt he'd been born to the final generation that had to stay quiet about being gay. Nothing had seemed to click into place.

Looking around at those that inhabited the half dead mall, Nick couldn't help but smile. He liked people watching, especially if they didn't look at him. He loved seeing teenagers going about their lives. He loved seeing couples walking together or kissing, especially if they were queer. He found everyone's clothing choices fascinating, their hairstyles intriguing, and the way they carried themselves with such poise or certainty that they were the center of their own story was infectious. He wondered what life would have been like if he'd been so carefree in his youth, but then he'd never had to contend with cell phones or cyber bullies or tiktok dance trends in his youth.

Nick had made it halfway down the mall when he slowed, looking up, concern creasing his brow. One of the shops he'd come to in order to pick up a gift had been transformed into a cell phone store. The other across the way was simply dark, locked up and covered with a sign that said 'For Lease'. While mildly disappointing, Nick didn't mind the fact that he'd gotten his steps in. He turned and looked around at those that came to the mall despite its decline. There were three brothers sipping orange flavored slushies and laughing, families meandering outside the entrance to the movie theater. Even if he hadn't quite got his life together, he knew others would carry on where he hadn't quite made it.

Turning back on his heels, Nick walked back across the stone tiled floor toward the entrance. As he neared the doors, however, Nick slowed. He had started to catch his reflection in the glass leading back out to the street, but it didn't look… right. He should have seen more of his short kept beard and the perpetually embarrassing frizz of his wily hair that could seldom be tamed. As he came within a few feet of the door, he realized that the white he saw in his reflection was not the frost outside, but his own hair.

The door to the nearby bathroom swung open as Nick came charging in, moving up to the mirror. Despite a few scratches and a few permanent stains of graffiti, the mirror very clearly showed Nick that what he had seen in his faint reflection was no mirage. As he watched, stripes of white were trickling down through his mustache and beard, the pigment eroding away from the brown and copper curls. At first the stripes looked distinguished, but as the white rapidly spread it evolved into a shocking contrast. Nick knew a few people who had gone prematurely white, but he'd never expected it to be him and certainly not in a matter of seconds.

Despite the shock and concern, as a rosy glow filled his cheeks, a strange sense of calm was settling into Nick. He watched his mustache thicken, stretching down. In moments it had gained enough centimeters to look like he'd gone a week or two without trimming it. In a few more moments the white shelf descended down low enough and thick enough that his upper lip disappeared entirely.

Turning his head left and then right, the short kept chinstrap beard was growing more wild by the moment. The trimmed hairs stretched out, growing down from his jaw and chin. New curls crept upward, encroaching across those rosy cheeks.

Nick watched, a bit mesmerized as his beard filled out. He'd always kept it neat for work, finding it far easier to tame than his actual hair… but it seemed that, too, was changing. He'd felt a little bit cheap but he'd managed to cut his hair at home, keeping it just a little shaggy in the bag. Now white tousled curls were descending down the nape of his neck, brushing across his shoulders. His bald head was glistening, rosy and healthy, looking better than it had in years. Nick reached up to caress his beard and nearly gasped, shuddering as a wave of pleasure swept through him.

As if he was some sort of balloon being inflated, the red heathered polo he was wearing started to grow snug. His already ample man boobs began to fill and round, bulking out a bit. His rounded belly gurgled and expanded from the spherical shape to one that was a bit more oblong. His skate shoes began to bulge and distend as his already size fifteen feet started to grow as fast as they had in middle school. He felt an aching throb fill them as his heels broadened and his toes lengthened, straining the shoes to their breaking point.

Moment by moment, Nick was taken aback, He hadn't gained any new wrinkles, lost any hair or teeth or anything else detrimental. Still, the effect of every hair on his head going white in mere seconds made him look… older? And yet he'd retained his mid-life looks of being forty. There was something oddly compelling about the contrast, especially as the little crooks at the corner of his eyebrows arched up into faint points. Nick looked at himself, at his red shirt and green pants, realizing all at once just how much he looked like Santa. Rosy cheeks, a white beard, red and green, there was just no denying it. He wanted to burst out laughing but instead he gave a hearty “Ho, ho, ho!" that filled the bathroom.

Of all the people in the world, of all the naughty or nice individuals, he had become Santa? Him, Nick Christopher, a true forty year old gay virgin so closeted he might as well have been a lawn ornament. He'd lived long enough that gay circles considered his age to be dead… And he'd become Santa? Ready to bring joy and mirth to those in the world? As Nick sat there, stroking his beard, it actually didn't sound terrible. In fact, he was actually pretty good with people. Just because his own life hadn't amounted to much didn't mean he couldn't help others. In fact, maybe that's just what the world needed…

A small, lewd smile crossed Nick's lips. He would do the job to the best of his abilities, of course, but maybe there was a way to have fun with this. If he was Santa, he had to have a team… Maybe a Mister Clause to call his husband now that he looked like a daddy? A team of elves and reindeer, a whole team of people spreading cheer with him. If they just happened to be gay and handsome, pleasing eye candy like he always sought out, all the better. Nick reached up to comb his hand over his beard and hair one more time, trying to look as presentable as possible for his new job.

****

There was no denying that the Powell Building was one of the most prestigious buildings in the city skyline, and that Sumner and Sons was one of the most prestigious law firms. It was a marvel of glass and steel, only turning to wood paneled walls when absolutely necessary. When the sun started to set it lit the horizon on fire and filled the office building with shades of amber, citrine and gold. For all that light, there was so little warmth in any sense of the word. That cold felt like it stabbed deeper and deeper into Cole's bones with every passing day.

Cole sat at one of the six desks in the Paralegal's pit as the attorneys called it, though he was the only one. Cases and depositions had been scheduled lightly in anticipation of the office Holiday party. Cole could get drunk anywhere, he certainly didn't want to do it in this nest of vipers. Leaning forward, Cole's dark black hair fell over his forehead and the shadows caught the dark rings under his eyes. It wasn't just that the work was hard, it had to do with the fact that he could barely sleep.

Loopholes, technicalities, settlements and contrivances. It seemed as if he worked for an industry that did anything but justice. Corruption paid and poverty charged interest. Cole closed his laptop and slid it out of the way before he leaned forward, resting his head on the desk. His temples were killing him. His head ached and it felt like a pressure headache had taken root in his temples. He grunted a little, feeling his ears popped. Had someone opened a window? This high up, the change in air pressure could be a killer.

Lifting his head back up, Cole felt even worse for wear. Two lumps had formed on his forehead, the skin growing red and irritated. His ears burned and tingled, the cartilage slowly rising into points. His mouth felt dry, his skin felt clammy and his cheeks began to itch faintly as black, gray and white stubble began to prickle through his pale but otherwise perfect skin. In moments the salt and pepper shadow had spread along his cheeks and jawline, the lumps on his forehead swelling bigger and thicker. Cole wasn't even sure what was going on, but when he saw the distorted reflection on the glass table, he tried to spring to his feet… except they weren't quite feet anymore.

The designer leather of his shoes bent, flexed and popped free. As they clattered across the floor, Cole's argyle socks seemed to stretch and strain before tearing loose. Cole looked down, his vision blurring and unblurring. As he managed to get them to focus, he saw a gooey webbing rapidly tightening between his toes, forcing the digits together. His toenails had turned milky and gray, spreading out along the width of his toes and creeping up higher. It was strange, it was sickening, and yet somehow it felt like fate.

Cole threw his head back, his dark hair growing stringy and longer, creeping down the back of his neck. As he thrashed, his neck muscles thickened, curving in great flares across his shoulders. He gnashed teeth that seemed to be reshaping in his mouth, his face still burning as his salt and pepper beard grew from stubble to an inch long mane. This couldn't be real. How could it be? One of their clients must have left something in the conference room that he came across. That had to be it. It was a contact high from some degenerate with good connections.

Cole pushed out of his office, already feeling overheated and sweaty. He tugged at the buttoned collar of his shirt, popping it loose. He ran his hand down the row of buttons on his vest, letting it splay apart. Another few yards, nearly staggering from the way his hooves felt. He pushed into the bathroom, feeling somehow comforted by the fact that there was no view to the outside. He pushed the door shut behind him and sniffed a little, smelling the lingering smoke from one of the junior partner's cigars. He shook that out of his mind as he moved over to the middle sink.

Holding his hands under the silver faucet, the motion sensors triggered and let loose the crystal clear cascade of water. Cole collected some of the water in his hand and brought it up as he lowered his face. The cool water was refreshing on his hot skin, though it felt almost searing against the swollen bumps on his forehead. Cole winced and nearly hissed, letting his hands drop as he looked up.

It started with a tiny pinprick of blood but the crimson began to run in a rivulet, following the course charted by the dribble of water he'd washed his face with. The pressure was released and a black nub emerged from one of the lumps. A moment later the other side followed suit. Cole panted, looking into the mirror, his chest rising and falling as two small black horns pushed out, forward, and then curved up. He knew that everyone considered lawyers to be demons, but he was a paralegal after all. He was one of the good ones, hoping for real justice. How was it that everyone else could put prestige and money over what was truly right?

As Cole marinated on those thoughts, his face continued to throb. The salt and pepper beard continued to push out of his face, descending down in a wooly curtain. New streaks of silver began to spread through his increasingly unkempt hair. All the shampoo and product had seemingly evaporated as it flared out behind his head, descending in a mullet of sorts. A strange, sickeningly cathartic crunch and pop came as his nose seemed to broaden and flatten a little, looking more bestial. His ears stretched into points that tilted back ever so slightly.

The vest that had been parted only stretched wider, a soft tearing sound coming as Cole's collar seemed to be wrenched apart. New curls of dark hair peeked out from around the shirt line even as the backs of his hands grew darker with soft fuzz. He'd grown horns, pointed ears and hooves. It seemed that there was no longer any place for caution. Clutching at his vest, he tore it off and tossed it to the floor beneath the counter of sink basins. He clawed and scratched until his button up tore open, revealing an almost shocking pelt of fur across his chest. He wriggled out of the button up like a dog forced to wear a costume.

The air filled with the whine of his belt being yanked from his belt loops. His fingers feverishly tore at his button and fly until it all burst free. His underwear was swollen and distended over a bulge. He looked down, wondering if he really had chosen the red and white striped underwear. It seemed oddly festive. Still, he knew, or at least he felt like he knew what he'd find beneath. Hairy hands tipped with black nails slipped under the waistband and pulled it back. A luxuriously thick bush of black and silver hair covered his upper groin. As he got to the base of his cock, his eyes widened in surprise. The base was wider and thicker than he'd ever seen it, leading to a shaft of rather impressive girth. Inch by inch he lowered his underwear, but he didn't seem to find the tip. He kept going further and further until, at last, the warm log of flesh wobbled upright, extending out before him.

It was almost too much to take in, but Cole felt that he had to know even as the horns on his head continued to extend. He lowered his underwear down, revealing massive furry balls resting on furry thighs that led to furry knees. His pants sagged down to the floor, almost obscuring the dinner plate sized hooves that now supported his body. Turning to the side, Cole looked up and spotted the twitching of a dark goat-like tail above his furry, rounded ass cheeks. Cole's brow furrowed a little, though even his eyebrows were growing thick and untamed. His nostrils flared as his nose darkened and grew strange. The base of his beard tickled his Adam's Apple and his horns continued to extrude out of his skull, curving back.

It had happened in mere moments. Cole could barely recognize himself aside from his gentle brown eyes and a little bit of his cheek bones… and yet it felt as if this was who he was always meant to be. His reflection looked like that of a Satyr from myth and story, though a darker and more sinister version. Something played in the back of his mind, some half-remembered inkling of a festival in Germany for dark Christmas satyrs… He racked and searched his brain until the word slowly shifted into clarity.

“Krampus…" Cole whispered. The word seemed to hold power and a smile crossed his lips. He was a Krampus, a judge, someone who doled out justice. Santa would reward the good boys and girls, of course, but it was his duty to punish the souls of those who were naughty… and he already knew so many, many naughty people.

Cole murmured and growled, throwing his head back. He ran one hand up and down his furry chest, letting the other coil around his immense, fat Krampus cock. He began to stroke himself off, faster and faster, thrusting his hips forward. His dark rubbery ring clenched and unclenched as he imagined it being filled by someone… worthy? Someone kind, jolly, someone gracious and gentle. Cole moaned at that idea. They would have time for their own gratification when their work was done, but they still needed a team. Santa didn't work in a vacuum. They'd need their elves, but more importantly they'd need a way to get around.

****

When it came to long distance travel, riding on a school bus was a singular experience. There was the faint smell of diesel in the air, the rattling chains dangling beneath the chassis, as well as the unforgiving pleather seats where the padding had worn down just enough to press against the metal frame of the benches beneath. Riding to school in the fog and dark after daylight savings shifted seemed normal enough, but as adrenaline coursed through the veins of the Kingston Reigndeers senior varsity team it felt far more surreal to be on a bus at night.

Hooting, hollering and cheering came from the back where the aroma had hit peak jock. Most had yet to stow their sweat drenched, grass stained jerseys. Their hair was stringy and greasy but their grins had broadened. The Reigndeers had reigned superior yet again. They would be able to graduate in a few short months with an undefeated record. Some claimed it was all thanks to Donaldson's game face as quarterback. Others said it was Victor's selfless feints that led to him getting tackled. Some said it was Coach Archer's brilliant strategies and come from behind mentality. No one but Ricky thought it was his painstaking maintenance of their equipment or the tender way he ensured they all stayed hydrated.

The growl of the schoolbus's engine grew louder as it began climbing a steeper grade. The jangling of the chains grew louder as well as they shifted back to hang at a new angle. The wisps and tendrils of fog outside grew thicker and more obscuring, but Donaldson didn't care. He was grinning with bright teeth, freckles across his face, the dark shadow of stubble across his jawline as a green headband held his sweaty hair out of his face. He laughed a deep, gruff laugh at a joke one of his boys had shared before he clapped them on the shoulder with his meaty hand.

It was a sharp contrast between the frigid weather outside and the concentrated heat of so many young men inside. The snow flurries were increasing, the headlights lancing through them as best they could. Still, snowflakes began to stick to the windows of the bus. As they did so, a strange lattice of ice crystals began to spread outward. The pattern was most unusual, forming into shapes and sigils that were ancient. As the shapes began to connect to one another, there was a silver shimmer that enveloped the entire bus. Inside, nothing happened immediately, but everything began to happen all at once.

“I'm sure if there were any recruiters in the stands, they're gonna snap us all up." Donaldson said with confidence.

“You think they could see all of us, or were they just focused on Mad Blitz?" Victor asked. An eighteen year old at the back of the bus with a brown mohawk and thick steel earrings grinned, leaning his head back, a tuft of brown hair pointing down from his chin as sharp as the grin he brandished.

“What can I say? I'm an unstoppable force?" he asked. The teammates all felt oddly giddy. They were pumped up from their victory, but there was something else coursing through their veins now. They felt pride, power, confidence and team spirit. It was intoxicating.

Donaldson reached up, running his hand over his left pectoral. It felt a bit stiff, a bit heavy, as well as oddly warm to the touch. His usual chinstrap beard seemed to be growing less well maintained as the fuzz began to creep up his cheeks and down across his jaw. Looking up, Blitz's goatee was spreading as well. Victor breathed in and out, reaching up to scratch at the collar of his jersey, his fingers finding an unusually thick coating of hair spreading across his chest.

None of the three said anything, their minds suddenly feeling as goofy as the weather outside the bus. Victor's lips twitched a little as he looked at his teammates and how handsome they were. Each of them was six feet tall, covered in hair and muscle, brutish and powerful. They'd taken out the competition in record time. They were drenched in sweat from their masculine performance. Blitz had done the most and he deserved a reward.

Glancing around the bus, Victor got up and slipped back, sitting down on the bench seat next to Blitz. Blitz looked over at him in confusion until he felt his teammate's hand rest on his lap, a lap that was sporting a rather involuntary erection. Blitz and Victor exchanged gazes, eyes locked until Victor feigned a yawn, a stretch and slunk down in the seat behind the back rest of the next row. In moments Blitz felt his zipper being lowered and that hand rooting around inside his underwear. His breath caught in his throat as the waistband was lifted, allowing the reeking musk to escape. The curls of hair that normally ringed his cock were softened, straightened, looking more velvety. It only served to make his meat look even bigger.

Victor's focus became determined, his eyes glistening in the dim light of the bus. He kept working, fishing out that thick rod. He licked his lips, his mouth salivating, watching as he finally got his target free. Inch after inch of man meat emerged, though the skin was slicker than usual. It was as if it was producing its own moisture. Victor didn't mind. He lunged forward, bringing his lips down, coming around the tip of Blitz's cock.

Blitz involuntarily let out a bit of a huff as he closed his eyes, spreading his thick arms out across the back seat of the bus. He pretended to be napping even as he felt Victor start to bounce up and down, those cheeks fluttering across the sides of his dick. He wanted to grab Victor's head, to guide him up and down, but there was something raunchy about being the MVP and letting him do all the work.

The air in the bus had already smelled of teenage male, but the scent was growing more powerful by the second. Donaldson looked away from Blitz and Victor, as if sensing that they were occupied. He continued to feel up his pectoral, nearly gnashing his teeth. He scanned around the bus, his mind calculating in ways that he wasn't entirely cognizant of. He eventually let his gaze shift to Jaylen who was sitting across the row from him, wearing earbuds and listening to music. Despite the music, Jaylen realized someone was looking at him in moments and looked up.

Even with his short afro, even with the smudges of black greasepaint beneath his eyes and the grass stained jersey over his shoulders, Jaylen gave off a different energy than the rest of the team. His schedule was packed with extracurriculars. He wasn't just a football player, he was a dancer. Besides that, he still found time to meet Donaldson beneath the bleachers and to pack that tight end with all the dick the quarterback could give him. Their relationship had been secret, illicit, quieted away… but why? As silver light continued to pour over and through the bus, all that secrecy seemed insane.

Donaldson smiled a little, licking his lips. He leaned back on the bus seat as much as he could before patting his lap. Jaylen grinned a bit at that, looking around at the other guys who all seemed distracted enough. He got up and came over, sitting on Donaldson's lap, straddling his hips on either side with knees that settled into the pleather. He leaned down and brought their lips together. Donaldson groaned and growled into the kiss, reaching up with one hand to run it across his thick hair, feeling his lips working overtime. Their tongues were soon wrestling, groins rubbing, and their ears began to twitch as they stretched into points.

In the back of the bus, Victor was slurping and sucking harder and harder, not caring about the faint, wet, lewd sounds he was making. His teeth were rapidly flattening, his ears already stretched to points. His face was covered with fuzz and fur had erupted from the collar of his jersey, rushing up his neck and down his spine. Blitz's nose twitched, the tip darkening slowly, his fingernails turning from ivory to brown and then almost black as they thickened. A few rows up, Pracoli had leaned forward to open his duffel bag and change into something else, but instead of his football gear or his street clothes, there was only a leather harness covered with small silver bells. Somehow this not only didn't seem odd, it seemed exciting.

The blond forward receiver shrugged off his jersey, revealing nipples that hadn't been pierced moments before. Silver rings hung from the fat nubs, small balls dangling from the lowest part of the rings. A thatch of creamy white fur was already spreading out from the center of his chest as he pulled on the harness, letting it slip over his rugged, fit shoulders. He made sure it slipped into place well before he reached up, tugging on his nipples. His nose darkened, the nostrils flaring as the flesh between them became more rubbery. He groaned suddenly, feeling a pressure building in his skull. He lowered his head, grunted, eyes clenching. Lumps began to form, distending the flesh beneath the edge of his sweaty, greasy blond hair. He reared and bucked, his feet dragging across the rubberized mat of the schoolbus.

When he threw his head back, the skin tore slightly and let velvety nubs of keratin emerge, pressing out from his skull. He huffed over flat teeth as the pressure dropped. His pointed ears twitched and his face began to throb, the bone pushing forward and stretching his mouth, elongating his nose. He leaned back in his seat, half exhausted and half elated. He used one hand to tug at his right nipple even as the left stroked up and down that thick, soft white fur as it spread outward beneath the harness, claiming his shoulders and back and spine, feeling it sweep around his ribs and down his stomach.

Dondaldson huffed as he felt Dancer - no, Jaylen? Yes, Jaylen… the Dancer… Whatever was going on, it felt good and soon their pants had been unzipped. Donaldson's glistening cock emerged from his pants, but it was no longer quite human. The mushroom shaped tip had flared to a point, tapering with perfect symmetry down to the ever widening base. Dancer did the same and his darker meat was soon slipping and sliding against Donner's. As the distinctions in their names fell away, so too did their humanity. Pointed ears were now sticking up on either side of Dancer's afro while Donner's chinstrap beard no longer respected any boundaries, covering his face in fur. Their lips continued to kiss even as their faces elongated into muzzles.

Blitz let out a strange animalistic bellow as he threw his head back as Vixen got all the way to the base of his animalistic cock. Snaps, crunches and pops came as Blitzen's face began to stretch into a cervine muzzle. His forehead burst with rapidly elongating antlers, the velvety structures splitting and reshaping like jagged, fuzzy lightning bolts. His mohawk grew taller, rising up between the bony crests. He lowered a strang hand to the back of Vixen's head, his nails now tipped by black hooflettes. His boots were groaning and straining, stitching popping as leather separated from rubber and a malformed foot broke free. Toes had fused, toenails spreading out to harden and shift, taking on the shape of cloven hooves. Dew claws curved down from the back of his ankles.

Pracoli had lost himself inside Prancer instead. He'd put on the harness, his face was now a muzzle, his ears twitched atop his head and his antlers had come in strong. One hand glided up and down his twelve inch deer dick, his balls already covered in fur. His naked ass cheeks were soft and a little flag of a tail twitched behind him, brushing up and down the seat. He was so horny, so hard, so needy. He looked up at Ricky, the little water boy. He'd never looked at him that way before, but now he was a man within reach and Prancer was in heat.

Prancer licked his black lips and surged forward. Ricky looked up, sensing only movement at first. He gasped as he was pushed onto his back, his backpack and books clattering to the floor of the bus. Prancer tore at his pants, opening them up, fishing out his human cock. Poor Ricky never got to play in their reindeer games, but that was going to change now. Still, his human dick was so lonely… Prancer brought out his deer dick, aimed it at Ricky's cock and shuddered. Thick, yellowed deer cum suddenly poured out across Ricky's shaft. In seconds it was tingling like it had been soaked in peppermint essential oil.

“What did you… did you…" Ricky panted, unable to complete his sentence. In moments he'd gone from feeling like he was being assaulted to feeling hornier than he'd ever been in his life. He looked up at the very handsome reindeer as Prancer got into position. He brought his fat, bubble butt over Ricky's rapidly stretching cock and he sat down. Ricky huffed, his glasses fogging up, the faint mustache over his upper lip darkening. Prancer threw his antlered head back as he felt that dick pushing into his tight hole. He began to slip down further and further, his own cum acting as lube. His sphincter clenched and unclenched, massaging Ricky as they went. Once he'd gotten down far enough, he began to rise up again, starting to bounce up and down and up and down.

Ricky groaned and gasped, feeling his dick growing far too fast, too long, too hard, and in so many ways that were nearly painful but so pleasurable. It was like a snake slithering out of his lap, climbing up through Prancer… Wait, Prancer? That wasn't his name, was it? He still had that messy mop of blond hair, but he was a reindeer clad in a leather harness. Every time he moved, he jingled, and he was moving a lot. Ricky looked up, eyes glazing over with lust. He thought of all the times he'd watched the guys in the locker room and the showers, how handsome they all were, and now Prancer was riding his dick.

He grabbed onto Prancer's furry hips and he started to thrust up and down, raising his own pelvis, feeling the heft. His dick wasn't just big, it was huge. He felt the tip taper to a point, the base widening like a wedge. His balls slapped the pleather seat as they moved, each slap making them bigger and heavier and furrier. The fur wrapped around Ricky's waist and ass, slinking down his slim legs. His sneakers grew tight in moments, the materials stretching and straining before one popped off. The sock clad foot was reshaping as his toes became hooves beneath.

Prancer bellowed out like a deer in heat, feeling Ricky fill him so good. He leaned down, bringing his lips to Ricky's. As that long deer tongue plunged into the nerd's mouth, the change only accelerated. The slippery eel-like tongue coaxed Ricky's to do the same. They were soon slurping messily, spittle leaking out of Ricky's mouth as his lips darkened and fur began spreading across his face. Ricky's head swam in lust and ecstasy as a painful pressure built up higher and higher in his head. He clenched his eyes shut, his hearing going deaf as his ears migrated up higher on his head.

Bones popped and his face felt hot as it stretched out into a muzzle. His nose darkened and grew, swelling and almost rounding. At first the flesh was dark and rubbery like Prancer's, but there was an odd tingle. It felt half way between an allergic reaction and a chemical reaction. Ricky's newly animalistic nose began to turn purple, then red. Swirls of circulation through the flesh began to react in strange ways as a form of bioluminescence began to catalyze. In the midst of the kiss with Prancer, Ricky - no, Rudy's nose began to glow.

All through the bus, there wasn't anything holding the team back anymore. The Reigndeers had become reindeers. Blitzen bellowed again as he gave Vixen a throat full of cock and cream, rapidly filling his gut. Donner and Dancer gasped and shuddered as they coated each other's furry chests in the thick spooge. Rudy and Prancer were screaming in unison as Rudy filled Prancer's ass with cum and Prancer rewarded Rudy by covering his furry chest in the seed. Muscles continued to pop as they expanded, covered with fur. Fuzzy deer asses were plowed by pointed cocks, flagged tails inviting invasion from teammates. Carlos had become Cupid and managed to take both Comet and Dasher at the same time.

An excess of magic had been coursing through the school bus, but it had to work its hardest on the man driving the vehicle. It had seeped into Coach Archer's brain, sending icy tendrils deep. It rewired and reworked, taking suppressed natural tendencies and weaving them together with brand new thoughts. As they continued to drive through the snow, Coach Archer, or Coach Arctic as he started to think about himself, began to take the bellows and moans of his team as victories he was proud of. Every orgasm, every load spent, every satisfied huff and neigh from the reindeers made him feel like he'd done a good job. He hunched forward, hands on the wheel as white fur began to sprout from his knuckles and the backs of his hand. All color blanched out of his naturally thinning hair and new white hairs began to fill the bald spot he had before. His stubble turned as white as snow and soon curls of fur were poking out from the collar of his polo shirt. His hunched back grew and swelled, bloating outward. His arms thickened, his legs thickened - in fact, his entire body thickened.

The bus began to accelerate as Coach Arctic's foot became heavier. His shoes were rapidly growing too tight as his heels broadened, his toes thickened and something began to tug and catch and rub at the front of the shoes. He growled, his lips rapidly darkening to a rubbery black, revealing a row of sharp teeth beneath. As white fur covered his cheeks, his nose and his eyebrows, his nose darkened to the same black as his lips. He huffed in concentration, alternating between the gas and the break. As his foot shifted pedals, the front tore out, revealing wriggling black claws that curved out of the destroyed sneakers.

The driver's seat of the bus slowly sank a little under Coach Arctic's growing mass. His pants sagged down to reveal furry white ass cheeks, a nub of a tail popping free. The khaki pants pooled and stretched around his ample groin as it grew, his furry white sack hanging low as his balls swelled and grew to the size of oranges. His grip on the steering wheel only grew tighter as black claws stretched out of his fingers and leathery black paw pads swelled up from between beds of white fur. He snarled and growled at the traffic around them. They had places to go, and Santa wouldn't like it if they were late. This wasn't just his team, it was Santa's team and Christmas needed them! Coach Arctic brought his foot back down, accelerating the bus, putting on his turn signal. He now knew they had been heading in the wrong direction, but this Polar Bear certainly knew which direction was North.

****

The sun had long since set, allowing the long night to stretch across the city. The skyline twinkled in shades of amber and blue, but actual Christmas lights were already starting to liven up the cityscape with every shade of the rainbow. The engine of the school bus still popped and clicked as it cooled down but the Kinston Reindeers had disembarked. They were lining up, checking each other out with appreciative slaps and caresses. They jingled and jangled as their leather harnesses were fastened over newly swollen muscles. Coach Arctic moved among the young men, grunting and growling his approval as he checked everything out.

“Look alive people!" Arctic said when he saw headlights panning across the bluff. A small black convertible moved up, pulling onto the gravel. It kicked out bits of rock behind it as it pulled up alongside the bus. The engine's purr fell silent a moment before the driver's side door opened.. One large hoof stepped out, sinking into the gravel below a black wooly leg. Cole pushed out of the car, rising up to his new height. His salt and pepper beard blew in the gentle breeze and a pair of sunglasses rested on his goat-like nose despite how dark it was. His horns curved back along his skull, ribbed and as black as onyx. The Krampus regarded the polar bear man with a bit of interest.

“Is the big man here yet?" Cole asked. Arctic shook his head, his black rubbery nose sniffing a little.

“No, but it has to be any minute now." Arctic said.

“I think I see him…" Rudy said, straining his eyes a bit.

“Where?" Blitz asked before moaning a little, feeling Vixen's lips already wrapping around his pointed dick again.

“There!" Rudy said, pointing. As he gestured, the strange bioluminescence in his nose only seemed to grow brighter. Capillaries flashed and the flesh began to emit a radiance that pulsed outward through the darkness.

Arctic, Cole and the Reindeer all looked to try and see what Rudy was seeing. As their vision adjusted, they still continued to doubt just what they were seeing. It looked as if a sleigh was sliding up the curving hillside path. There were no sparks coming from the metal rungs because the sleigh was on top of a flatbed. Down below the front of the sleigh was a small canopy of what had to be some sort of discontinued fair float engine. It was ridiculous, but at the same time it was perfect.

“I told you he'd be here." Arctic said, smiling a little before he crunched his sharp teeth into a protein bar. The abnormal vehicle pulled off the road, though it didn't drive entirely into the gravel either. As it came to a stop, a very weary looking eighteen year old with waist length long blond hair and extremely pointed ears leaned back, panting from the precision that it had taken to get the sleigh up the bluff. In the back of the sleigh, Nick started laughing. It was a deep, rumbling belly laugh that jiggled all the way up from his navel to his rosy cheeks. He swung one large booted leg out of the sleigh and then the other, dropping down.

“Ho ho ho, that was a miracle!" Nick said happily. As he looked around, though, he couldn't help but hesitate and slow a little. The amount of masculine energy on the bluff was undeniable. He looked from the walking, talking polar bear to the horrifyingly sexy satyr to the beefcake army of reindeers that looked ripped right out of a banned pornographic furry calendar. As he took them all in, it was impossible not to realize that they were for him… and he knew all of their names.

“Cole, thank you so much for coming." Nick said, moving over to the Krampus. He reached out and caressed his newly grown beard, leaning in. Their lips touched gently but Cole felt like he was melting. He could feel Nick's goodness, his innocence, and the fact that he was very, very gay. Nick licked his lips as he broke the kiss, moving over to clap the polar bear on the shoulder, “Coach Arctic, I see you've whipped the boys into shape." He added.

“Yes sir, always my pleasure." Arctic replied. Nick walked among the reindeer, admiring their harnesses and their physiology. Vixen had risen back to his own hooves, licking the cum from his lips while Blitzen tried to get his vision to focus and remain straight.

“I know that this isn't exactly how you all pictured spending Christmas Eve…" Nick began, addressing them all like his troops, “We didn't choose this duty, the duty chose us. The Christmas List is filled with the names of the good, the bad, the needy and the faithful. We were chosen to lead a new age and we are going to live up to that destiny. Now, who is with me?!" Nick asked. The reindeer broke out into a loud cheer. Arctic threw his head back and let out a growl truly worthy of a polar bear. Nick pointed from the reindeer to the slay.

“Now Dasher and Dancer, Prancer and Vixen!" Nick commanded. The reindeer fell into line and both Arctic and Cole began clipping them together with the red leather leash. They began to thump their chests with pride, the bells on their harnesses jingling. “On Comet and Cupid, Donner and Blitzen! Lead us Rudolph!" Nick commanded. He moved up to Rudy and reached out to ruffle the shaggy brown hair between his antlers. Rudy tried to look polite but the tip of his tongue slipped out of his extended lips. Nick grinned and leaned in to kiss his forehead. “And you, my boy, have the most important role of all. You must lead us this night!" Santa said before he returned to the sleigh. Climbing up, Nick was mindful of his extra girth. He slunk down into the sleigh seat before he froze, spun around and peered over the back. To his relief, there was an extremely large and bulbous red velvet bag brimming with possibilities. Reassured, Nick turned to face forward again. He let out a soft growl of appreciation.

“Now that is a view I could get used to." He admitted, looking at all the pert bubble butts covered in buttercream beige fur framed by the darker brown colors. “It's time to bring a Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!" Nick commanded. “Yaw!" He added, giving the red leather reigns a slap. The team of former football players tensed and tightened, at the ready. It worked up the lines all the way to the front where Rudy was. The former water boy broke into a run, feeling the potent power of so many men right at his backside. Their hooves dug into the gravel for a few paces and the sleigh began to lurch and slide. As it moved off the flatbed of the truck, it didn't quite fall into the gravel. It wobbled and drifted a little at first before it began to ascend. The reindeer picked up speed, their hooves clicking and clacking on the asphalt mountain road until they, too, fell silent. Cole watched, wide eyed, as the team pulled the sleigh up and up into the night sky. In several more moments the mass of red and green and brown grew too distant to see, leaving only the sparkle of a strobing star behind.

Cole stood there, feeling an odd ache in his chest and a heat in his loins. He had work to do as well, but he'd noticed something rather unique about their setup. There was no Mrs. Claus. More than that, he and Santa had shared a rather heated moment with that kiss. He knew he'd have three hundred and sixty four days to get to know Nick after this, but they were already off to a good start. Cole turned, looking at the coach.

“You and the Elf should probably get to wherever our headquarters are. I've got some heathens to find." Cole said. Coach Arctic gave the Krampus a salute before he trotted over and hopped on the back of the flatbed. The elf inside let out a belabored sigh before he turned the engine back on, flipped his turn signal and pulled into the road. They would need more than magic to get the old parade float vehicle where it needed to go. They would certainly need the magic of Christmas to see them to their next destination.