Santa Babe
By Daniela A. Wolfe

“Ho, ho, oh no!” The fat bastard rolled out of the sled falling face first and produced a thud that shook the whole damn roof.

“Clumsy old coot,” I grumbled under my breath and hopped out of the sleigh to help my red velvet attired boss back to his feet.

Not that I was much fucking help. The old man was over three feet taller than me and weighed at least four times as much. Regardless the big man was back on his feet, velvet bag slung over his shoulder, staggering toward the chimney.

I shook my head, glanced about the roof, spotted Santa’s flask and swooped down to retrieve it. He must have dropped the damned thing when he took his little tumble. I glanced back at the big man, then opened the container and took a good whiff. “Say what you will about him, but the man has great taste,” I mumbled and took a sip of the whiskey inside.

“I wish he’d stop drinking on the fucking job.”

I slipped the flask into my belt, as elves do not have pockets, and turned back toward the chimney just in time to watch the big man disappear inside. For being so drunk, he sure seemed to haul major ass.

I grumbled a dozen or so choice curses under my breath, and followed suit, hopping inside with a single gravity-leap that no human could duplicate.

The thing about modern chimneys most people don’t realize is that although the opening atop the roof is wide, they taper down to a much smaller hole just big enough to let the smoke out. A mortal, even one who wasn’t a huge fat ass, like Santa, would never have been able to fit through. Lucky, for us, neither Santa nor myself were mortals.

When I emerged, I found the big man stumbling about and dragging the bag through the room while sloshing an open bottle of brandy all over Hal McCain’s living room carpet.

What the actual fuck? How the hell had he gotten hold of another damn bottle?

It hadn’t always been like this. In his heyday, Santa had been the jolly gift-giver of which the stories all spoke, but ever since he’d walked in on his old lady fucking the hell out of Jack Frost he hadn’t been the same. He’d picked up the bottle a few months after his wife left and hadn’t put it down since. That was a little over a decade ago and as you can image it had been a living hell.

It was about goddamned time someone put a stop to it. I clenched both fists at my side glowered at the fat son of a bitch and pounced on the fucker. Santa was even more bombed than usual, so it was damned easy to walk up and yank the bottle out of his wrinkled old hand, but I was so angry that I used a lot more force than I needed. For my troubles, I managed to splattering alcohol all over the front of my tunic.

“God dammit,” I cursed, wiping it off as best I could and glared up at ol’ Nick between gritted teeth. “Look man, this has gotta stop, I know you miss her, but, shit, look what you’re doing to yourself.”

Santa didn’t say a word, instead raising a single white-gloved hand, index-finger held up, swallowed hard and let out a belch to end all belches. Goddamned it smelled so bad it brought tears to my eyes.

Santa turned away and dug through his bag. At first, I assumed the asshole was retrieving gifts for Hal and his son but then the wily old bastard produced another bottle, this one filled with a pink fluid, from inside the sack.

There was a reason Santa could deliver so many gifts to the entire world without going to and from the North Pole hundreds of thousands of times a night. His sack wasn’t so much of a bag as a portal through space and time. He could reach through and retrieve any item inside the workshop. I’d once seen him pull a tool chest out to render repairs to his sled.

I should have figured he’d try something along those lines. That must have been how he’d gotten hold of the brandy. I cursed myself and extended a hand to grab the pink fluid out of his hands, but the old man jerked back before I could even get close.

What the hell kind of drink was it? Although elves enjoyed many fruity and sweet concoctions in our off hours, they were stored separately from the ones in the workshop. Despite the old man’s love of cookies and sweets, his taste in alcohol tended toward spirits and liqueurs. So, either, someone was sneaking drinks on the job or…

“Oh shit,” I cursed under my breath as realization dawned on me.

It wasn’t an alcoholic beverage that the old man had retrieved from the bag per se, but a potion and if I was right about which one I needed get it away from the big guy. I made another grab for the bottle, but he pushed me away. For my efforts I stumbled forward and fell flat on my face.

I scrambled back to my feet, but by then he’d already unstopped the bottle. My heart skipped a beat as he downed damn near half in one gulp.

Santa beamed down at me, and I stared back at him with wide eyes waiting for the changes to happen. The old fucker had no clue what he’d just consumed. At first, nothing seemed to happen, but as he brought the potion up to his lips, he grunted and jerked forward, collapsing to his knees.

I lurched forward, throwing my hands out to catch the potion as he fell, but not before I splattered the remaining contents all over the front of my tunic.

“Dammit all to hell,” I gritted my teeth attempting to wipe it away with my sleeve of my shirt, but it had already soaked through. It fizzled against my skin.

Santa groaned, and I stared up at him watching as his flesh rippled. I’d never seen the potion at work before, but I knew what to expect. It would be a quick transformation, but the process would be far from painless.

I watched my mouth agape as his bowl full of jelly, he had been so careful to maintained over so many centuries, dissolved into his body save for two lumps that rolled his now flat belly and into his chest taking up residence around his nipples. His pants fell down around his ankles and I could not look away though the old man wore no underwear.

His body creaked and popped and he fell onto his side and I could see his hips shifting around. Bones were shattering and re-fusing back together, I had no illusion that what he was experiencing was painful beyond imagining.

He gasped and moaned with each new change. His spine creaked, and it snapped inward curving and taking on a more feminine alignment. The old man’s arms came next, fat melted away bones and muscle popped and shifted. His nails jagged and dirty, smoothed out and grew out from his finger tips, taking on a glossy red cast that was the perfect match for his coat.

Everywhere the changes swept across his form, muscles and bones reformed, fat drained away and piece by piece his body became soft and very, very womanlike. I swallowed hard and watched as his shoulders, legs, feet and everything left in between succumbed to the magic of the potion.

He groaned, reaching for his crotch as his male parts shrunk into his body, in their place formed a vulva. His hands slipped away from his privates, up his chest and over his neck. He grabbed fistfuls of his beard hair and I watched tears streaming down my face as the hair fell to the ground revealing the face beneath. It was the countenance of a stranger, unassuming and average. No elf had gazed upon the beardless face of Saint Nicholas in living memory.

I stared into his eyes breath caught in my throat. He emitted another moan, but this time it sounded too soft… too feminine. I watched his facial features contort, and after his nose shrunk, his skin tightened, and his lips filled out I looked into the face of a very attractive young woman. The only familiar feature that remains was his bright blue eyes, and they had a sparkle to them I’d not seen in years.

Santa sighed, and pulled her stocking cap free from her head, white hairs fluttered to the ground at her feet and long brown hair exploded from her head in ringlets.

She glanced down at her hands, flexing her long delicate finger a slow smile forming on her face. I watched her climb to her feet, no longer lurching or jerking about. Her movements were fluid, relaxed, and very deliberate. I don’t know if the transformation had burned the alcohol out of her body or if it was a result of some other side effect, but it was clear it had sobered her up.

She stepped out of her boots, revealing her dainty feet resplendent in red nail polish.

I cleared my throat and Santa turned her head staring upon me with those sparkling blue eyes. “Santa… the Aphrodite formula. What have you done?”

“Ho, ho, ho.” It sounded so odd coming from such a feminine voice and yet… there was a merriness to it that only the true Santa could ever manage. She smirked at me, dropped her coat and I stood there cheeks burning as I stared upon her naked form.

I had never seen the like, elf women were stick thin and had little in the way of a figure. Santa, in her transformed body was not fat by any means, but she had curves. Her ass was round and her breasts were large. God, I wanted to squeeze them.

I coughed and turned away, my cheeks burning. God, this was Santa for hell sakes I couldn’t be thinking such thoughts about her even if she looked like that.

I sensed movement and risked another look. She snapped her fingers and her magic swirled to life all around her. Her coat, trousers and boots rose into the air spinning in a dizzying array of color. The coat and trousers wrapped around her body, conforming to her new curves, but not in their previous form. The fabric ripped and tore and wove back together, the white fur trim slithered along the outside of the hem taking up residence along the bottom of the new garment and around the neck in a V-shape that helped hold up the new dress.

It was a form-fitting sleeveless velvet dress that left little to the imagination. It accentuated her new curves rather than concealed them.

Her boots came next, splitting open and then wrapping around her feet. Twisting and contorting as they climbed up her legs stopping a few inches below her knees. The heels rose, and Santa stumbled forward, throwing a hand up to help balance herself. A pair of candy cane earrings appeared dangling from her ears. Her fingers touched her face and when she brought them away, I felt weak in the knees. She had been beautiful before, but with the cosmetics that now adorned her face she looked the part of a goddess.
I swallowed hard and glanced down at the bottle. They had abandoned the Aphrodite formula for good reason. The elves who’d created it hadn’t been able to reverse the effects. In small doses it would wear off in time, but Santa had consumed more than enough to make it permanent. Worse, it didn’t just transform the person who drank it, it made them like their new form and it made them libidinous… very libidinous.

“You know… Samson,” Santa bit her finger and smiled down at me. Her eyes sparkled, and I felt a sense of dread come over me as I recognized that look. “I believe Hal has been a very naughty boy this year.”
“Santa!” I called after her as she sashayed further into the McCain home. She’d already adjusted to her form, another effect of the potion. Her hips swayed with the casual and fluid grace of a natural born woman. “Please, let me take you back to the workshop. The elders can figure something out.”

My cries fell on deaf ears. I watched her disappear, then with the bottle still in hand, I growled under my breath and followed her. How the hell was I going to explain this? Santa turned into some sex crazed nympho? The elders would blame me, I knew it. They had commanded me to keep a close watch on Santa and keep her from doing anything too rash. This was not what anyone had expected, but it was rash.

When I caught up to her, I grabbed her hand and dug my heals in. “Please, stop!”

“Sammie,” she turned back and smiled down at me a hand touching reaching out to touch my cheek. She stood there staring into my eyes then glanced down at my chest where the alcohol and potion had soaked through the tunic. “It’s all right. You’ll understand soon.”

I stared at her mouth hanging open as she slipped her hand free and moved away. This time I didn’t stop her. It didn’t even occur. By the time I came to my senses she’d slipped into the master bedroom. Where Hal McCain, single father, slept.

My heart hammered in my chest as I looked inside. I knew what to expect, but even so I thought my eyes might pop out of my head when I saw her dress fall to the ground at her feet.

“Hal,” she called the name, a siren luring him back into the waking world. I opened my mouth ready to call out and remind Santa of her identity, but stopped when I felt a stabbing pain in the pit of my stomach. I hunched over, clutching at my gut, baffled. Another jolt, shot through my body and I bit my lip glancing down at the label on the bottle.

‘Aphrodite potion. Warning: Intended for human use only. Avoid skin contact.’

I swallowed hard and dropped the bottle, watching it shatter as my inside twisted and turned. My bones cracked and popped and piece by piece my flesh bent and contorted into unfamiliar new proportions. Unlike, my boss I did not have much fat on my body, but in most ways my transformation mirrored his. Instead of fat being repositioned or fading away, it materialized and expanded where my new proportions required it. My legs, torso and arm flashed in agony, snapping and popping as they extended out. I was growing beyond elf proportions.

When the transformation ended, I knelt panting and gasping for breathe. My tunic was so tight, it was all I could do to bring in breathe. I glanced down at my body and looked down at a set of large breasts. I gritted my teeth, straining to bring in air. My lungs burned.

I tore at the tunic, my heart hammering in my chest even quicker than before. Already strained by my change and torn in several places, the fabric gave way to my green-coated nails. As my new bosoms sprang free, I remained there taking in deep breaths.

When I caught my breath, I fell onto my rump, startled to realize I had a lot more padding than I was accustomed. I looked down, giving myself my first good look over. Like Santa, I’d taken on a far more voluptuous form. A nice rack, curved spine and an ass I could have sunk my teeth into. Not to mention I’d grown several feet. I looked like some ridiculous play thing. I slid a hand up the side of my head, slipping it under my new strawberry-blond locks to find purchase around my ears and let out a long sigh when my fingers touched the point. Though I had grown to human proportions, I’d retained the most important trait of elfhood.

I cupped my bare breasts and bit my lips feeling a slow smile creep onto my face. My mind raced as I felt a new stirring awaken within me.

Why had I been so terrified by Santa’s transformation? I felt amazing.

I heard moaning from the bedroom and peeked inside feeling my cheeks burn. Santa, and Hal were going at it like rabbits. He was coming down on her hard. I licked my lips and glanced down at myself one final time. God, I wanted to join in.

I rose to my feet and stepped into the doorway. Though, like Santa I could have snapped my fingers and transfigured my clothing, it would have been a wasted effort. I tore at the shredded remains of my tunic and let the pieces flutter to the ground in a trail behind me as I moved into the room. My tights came free, in shreds and clumps, already strained by my thick thighs and longer legs. My shoes burst open, unable to contain my new larger feet as I moved. Though short by human standards, I had gone from the size of a small toddler to a small adult human.

I bit my lip, feeling my cheeks burn as what I was about to do hit home. Not in my many thousands of years would I have ever once considered engaging in such acts. Samson was a dried up old prune, Sammie, on the other hand, was very horny.

A hand touched my thigh and my face stretched back into a smile as Santa pulled me toward the bed. All resistance melted away and soon I felt Santa’s soft lips on my breasts and Hal’s large dick throbbing inside me. Not once in centuries worth of existence have I felt such pleasure, nor had I ever screamed until my throat went raw.

I flexed my hands in front of my face, still not able to believe what I’d done, or I didn’t seem to mind. Glancing down at myself, my cheeks burned as some remnant of the old Samson rose to the surface. My old self would have died at the very thought of any elf wearing something so revealing, but now it seemed, almost natural.

I wore no shirt, or blouse, but instead a red and white stripped bra as a top. A matching set of stripped stockings covered my legs, and instead of the more tradition elf-shoes I now wore a pair of black stiletto heels. A green stocking cap adorned my head and instead of tights I wore a tight green mini skirt with white lace along the bottom and a traditional belt with a brass buckle to hold it up. I looked sexy as fuck and I didn’t feel at all ashamed to admit it to myself.

I watched Santa climb into the sleigh and felt my cheeks burn anew. Our relationship had taken an unexpected twist and nothing would ever be the same between us, but as I looked her over, I felt my breath catch in my throat. Before her transformation, Santa had been worn out and tired, within her new form I saw a renewed energy and vigor. Though she had changed in almost every way conceivable, in some ways I saw the old Santa returned.

There was that familiar child-like joy and merriment that had so defined her before Mrs. Claus betrayal and it warmed my heart to see it return. Even the reindeer had picked up on it, their heads perked up at the mere site of her. There was a magic bond between the animals and their mistress, one which ensured they would always know the Clause no matter what form she took.

Santa leaned forward and glanced at me licking her lips. She slipped a hand behind my back and pulled me forward, locking her lips around mind. She smelled of chocolate chip cookies and tasted of peppermints.

When we broke for air, I cleared my throat and peered out across the horizon. We had all the time in the world, amongst Santa’s abilities was the power to create bubbles of time. While the rest of the world remained frozen, Santa could get to work delivering presents and climbing down chimneys. Though I would have loved to strip Santa naked and fuck her silly, I felt compelled to continue onward. It was, after all, my sworn duty as one of Santa’s elves to help her deliver gifts. I bit my lip and turned back to the boss lady. “Where to now?”

Santa smirked, retrieving the reins and met my gaze. “Krissy Delaney. She’s been very naughty this year.”
My face lit up at the prospect as the sleigh lurched forward. Santa called out that all too familiar command. “Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen! On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!”

It was the first time in decades, I’d heard her speak those words with such passion and joy. If I hadn’t been for the potion that might have been what had convinced me that Santa’s transformation was for the better, but after my metamorphosis I had needed no convincing.

I shuddered as he went hurtling through the air. Not from the cold, my magic protected me from even the harshest of winter weather. No, I trembled at the prospect of what a visit to Krissy Delaney would entail. She was a lingerie model and the Christmas Catalog she’d been featured in this year had been very popular among the younger male denizens of the North Pole this year. Not in my wildest fantasied had I ever dreamed she might give me the time of day, but I was confident that was no longer true. If she lived up to her reputation, I knew we could have a lot of fun.

I felt within myself a renewed appreciation and joy for the holiday that had become tedious. Something I’d not experienced since I was a young elf of just a few hundred years. Steeped in tradition, the elders would have their misgivings, but I knew where I could find a few more bottles of the Aphrodite formula. One way or another they would come around to our way of thinking. I licked my lips at the prospect and smiled. Christmas was about to become a whole lot sexier.

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