A Little Holiday Magic
A Little Holiday Magic
Benny sighed unhappily and looked down at his Christmas tree. It was a sad little thing, a cheap artificial tabletop decoration he’d picked up at the hardware store in a moment of sentimental weakness. He’d done the best he could to decorate it, but the end result looked a bit too much like the tree in A Charlie Brown Christmas for his liking. Unfortunately, it was all his tiny apartment (and threadbare budget) could fit this year. It didn’t help that the weather had been especially cold and gloomy of late; though it was Christmas Eve, Benny couldn’t seem to muster even a shred of holiday spirit.
It had been an especially difficult year for Benny, full of unprecedented loss and painful life changes. His mom had lost her battle with cancer in January, and in May his tumultuous relationship with his high school sweetheart and longtime boyfriend Matt had finally withered and died. Benny, pushing through a cloud of despair and worry, uprooted his life and relocated north from the home he had shared with Matt in Austin, Texas. His best friend Amanda was renting a small one-bedroom apartment in Chicago, and she had been gracious enough to invite Benny to couch-surf with her until he was able to get back on his feet and find a place of his own.
After two days of driving his beat-up old Chevy from Texas to Illinois, Benny had spent a miserable week or so crying into Amanda’s shoulder. But then, driven more by financial necessity and base survival instinct than by hopefulness for the future, he had begun looking for work. Just as he began truly panicking over the condition of his already meager and rapidly dwindling savings account, he had landed a decent-paying job as a paralegal at a mid-sized downtown law firm.
However, living on his own in the city had proven far more expensive than he’d anticipated. His new apartment was a tiny micro-studio in a less-than-savory neighborhood, but the heating worked, the neighbors were fairly quiet, and his commute to the office wasn’t terrible. Still, this was his first Christmas living alone in the new place, and he was struggling to feel at all merry or festive in the dark, cold Chicago winter.
Benny momentarily considered the cheap strand of gold tinsel in his hands, then eyed the tiny tree with disdain. Sure, this should make all the difference, he thought wryly. Nevertheless, he hung the tinsel around the tree as best he could. Though the strand was only six feet long, it was enough to wrap around the tree an almost comical number of times. For a moment, Benny considered trimming the excess, but he changed his mind. “Tell me, what would even be the point?” he asked the tree rhetorically.
Buying the tree had served as his token effort to embrace the spirit of the holidays, but instead it only seemed to make the rest of his small apartment look even gloomier and more depressing, at least to Benny’s eyes. He shrugged and opened the box of twelve allegedly “hand painted” ornaments he’d purchased with the tree, a set of simple red plastic orbs decorated with clichéd
Christmas scenes. Here was Rudolph with his bright nose and cartoony face. Another ornament showed a snowman smiling an overly-cheerful coal-toothed smile at the viewer. The third displayed a nativity scene, with the baby Jesus barely more than a blurry glob of peach paint. All of the ornaments were so cheesy and kitschy that Benny couldn’t help but roll his eyes.
Benny pulled the final ornament from the box. It was a jolly, rosy-cheeked Santa, cheerily waving from his sleigh. Unlike the rest of the dozen ornaments, this one truly did look hand-painted, complete with visible, tiny brush marks in the dried paint. And unlike the other ornaments in the set, this one actually felt like glass rather than cheap plastic. Benny admired it, bemused. Though nearly the same dimensions, it seemed to be much higher-quality than its box companions.
“Huh,” Benny wondered aloud as he held the out-of-place ornament. “Must’ve been put into this box by mistake.” He hung it on the top branch of the tiny artificial tree. “Well, Santa, it’s just you and me this year,” he told the ornament ruefully. “I guess I need to give you my Christmas list then, hmm?” Unsurprisingly, the painted St. Nicholas didn’t answer back.
Benny picked up his half-emptied coffee cup and took a sip. Ugh, his coffee had gone cold. He set the mug back down on the coffee table next to the small Christmas tree before taking a seat in his recliner. “Remember when I was a kid and still believed in you?” he asked the ornamental Santa. “I’ll never forget the year when I learned you weren’t real. I was nine, and all I wanted for Christmas was a new bike. But Mom and Dad were especially broke that year. That was back when Dad got laid off from his job at the factory, remember? So instead of the bike I wanted, all I got was clothes from the thrift store. I couldn’t understand why Santa didn’t bring me the one thing I’d asked for even though I’d been good all year, but my spoiled cousin Curtis got the very bike I’d wanted so bad, even though he was always a total shithead. And that’s when Mom told me that you weren’t real, Santa.” Benny sighed at the memory from so, so long ago.
“Well, if you were real, you’d probably already know the only thing I’d ask for this year.” Benny closed his eyes, wincing with a pain that still felt too fresh, too humiliating. After months of fretting and worrying, hedging and waffling, he’d finally worked up the courage to tell Matt about his interest in ageplay. Matt had scarcely been supportive upon learning about that highly personal side of Benny, and he’d said some hurtful things that still felt raw after all these months. Two tense, awkward weeks later, Benny had discovered Matt’s infidelity by coming home from work a little too early one afternoon. As suddenly as that, the only relationship Benny had ever been in had fizzled and died.
And that had been the great shame of it all. Matt had been the first person Benny had ever trusted enough to share that secret side of himself with, his little side. He’d quietly, naively hoped that Matt would be willing to indulge him from time to time, or at least be open to letting Benny try wearing a diaper around the house. Because for all that the idea of ageplay appealed to Benny, he’d never actually mustered the courage to order any of the adorable printed adult diapers he had discovered online. He’d bought a package of Goodnites once but they hadn’t really scratched that itch, in large part because they didn’t really fit an adult of Benny’s size.
That lone attempt, sadly, had been the extent of his experimentation so far. After the breakup, he’d felt too ashamed and depressed to explore things further. Even now that he was living on his own and had all the privacy he could ever want, he was too nervous to order real diapers for himself. What if someone found out? The pain of Matt’s rejection ran like toxin in Benny’s blood now.
“If you were real,” Benny muttered, still addressing the jolly old elf on the ornament, “the only thing I’d want for Christmas would be the chance to experience that.” The word was charged with all the things he didn’t dare say aloud, even to an inanimate object. He let out the rest of his breath in a weary, ragged sigh, and shook himself. No point dwelling.
For a moment, Benny debated calling his dad to wish him a merry Christmas, but then he looked at the clock on the wall. It was a bit after four in the afternoon, and no doubt his father would already be three sheets to the wind. Benny had learned years ago to never try calling his dad any later than two o’clock at the latest, because the man started drinking at lunch and didn’t stop until he passed out. Christmas would certainly be no exception. Besides, Benny had spoken to him briefly the day before, and that would have to be good enough.
The remainder of Christmas Eve passed slowly for Benny. He spent the evening in front of the TV, mindlessly watching shows that barely held his interest. All the restaurants he would’ve ordered from were closed, so dinner consisted of cold, leftover pizza and a single beer to wash it down. Merry fucking Christmas, Benny thought darkly as he crawled into bed shortly after midnight. Whether from boredom or emotional exhaustion, he was asleep within minutes.
His sleep that night was unusually restful and deep, and he had some trouble forcing himself out from under the warm, cozy cocoon of blankets he’d wrapped around himself during the night. Groggily, he stumbled toward the bathroom for an urgently-needed morning piss, then he made his way toward the small kitchen to put a pot of coffee on. While he waited for the coffee to brew, he quickly scrambled up a couple of eggs and toasted two slices of bread for his breakfast. He had time to finish his impromptu breakfast sandwich while waiting for the coffee to percolate. Steaming mug in hand, he made his way back toward the living room.
That was when he noticed the boxes. “What the fuck?” he exclaimed, shaken. In the living room floor, just in front of the coffee table and the tiny Christmas tree seated on it, was a stack of carefully wrapped presents, each neatly tied with a bow made of shiny satin ribbons. Had someone broken into his apartment in the night? His eyes darted around the room, but nothing else appeared to have been disturbed. He was absolutely certain he’d locked up and put the security chain on before bed, but he cast his eyes to the door anyway. Sure enough, the chain was on and the door was still locked.
Confused and extremely creeped out, Benny picked up the smallest of the wrapped gifts, a cube roughly the size of a baseball, and looked it over carefully. The wrapping paper was printed in green holly leaves with bright red berries, and a small tag had been neatly affixed to the top.
“For Benny, who has been a very good boy through a very difficult year. Love Santa,” read the tidy, beautifully flowing cursive handwriting.
“What the literal, actual fuck?” Benny’s hand was trembling a bit. If this was someone’s fucked-up idea of a joke… But his landlord and Amanda were the only other people with a copy of his apartment key. Besides, the safety chain was on; neither of them could have let themselves into his apartment in the night. His apartment was on the 16th floor, and for a moment Benny supposed someone could’ve come up by way of the fire escape. But all the windows were latched closed because of the intense cold and driving snow that had begun falling the previous morning.
For a frightened, fleeting moment, Benny considered calling 911 to report a break-in. But what would I tell them? he thought to himself, bemused. Someone broke in and left me presents? I’d be lucky if they didn’t charge me with crank calling 911. Benny pressed an ear to the small box in his hands. It wasn’t ticking, at least. After a moment’s hesitation, Benny tugged on the ribbon and the bow unraveled. He pulled the ribbon away from the box and carefully tore a corner of the wrapping paper, revealing a bit of brown cardboard. “Huh,” Benny muttered, shaking his head. “Well, in for a penny…” He tore away the remainder of the wrapping paper and, with an unsteady hand, he lifted the top flap of the box. Inside was a small black clamshell box, not unlike the kind that fancy wrist watches came in. He swallowed once, hard, and gingerly opened this new box. What he found inside made heat rise in his cheeks.
It was a pacifier, but bigger than any Benny had ever seen. It had a bright red plastic shield and a nipple of amber latex, and at its center was a white oval with a cute brown puppy’s face printed on it. Benny felt a shiver run the length of his spine. Matt was the only person on earth Benny had ever told about his interests, and there was no way Matt could’ve done this.
Curiosity bested fear, and Benny set the pacifier aside to take the next present from the pile. He gave the rectangular present a gentle squeeze. Though Benny’s childhood was decades in the past, he’d once been quite the experienced Christmas present snoop. This one felt like a garment box. Like with the other gift, there was a tag on this one too. “You badly needed a ‘LITTLE’ holiday magic this year. Love Santa.”
Benny unwrapped this box much more quickly than the previous one. As he’d expected, it was a white cardboard box, precisely like the ones Benny recalled excitedly opening as a kid, only to be let down by an awful sweater or several disappointing pairs of socks from some well-intentioned aunt or uncle or grandparent. Only this time, Benny was anything but disappointed. It was a stack of neatly folded onesies sized for him. He lifted the first from the stack and unfolded it, a powder blue onesie printed all over with sleepy, adorable baby sheep. It even had snaps in the crotch, just like the ones he’d seen other guys wearing in some of the ABDL porn he enjoyed in secret. There were three more in the pile, in pastel yellow, green and purple.
Now Benny was really confused. Where did these presents come from? Who could possibly know that this was the kind of thing Benny wanted more than anything? There were still four gifts to be opened, and he couldn’t begin to imagine what might be inside.
He grabbed the next gift from the pile and checked the tag. “You aren’t imagining things Benny. You deserve good in your life. Love Santa,” it read. Grinning to himself, scarcely believing what was happening, Benny began tearing at the wrapping paper with enthusiasm. This box contained a pair of khaki Winnie the Pooh shortalls with snaps in the crotch. He touched them reverently, feeling the soft fabric beneath his fingertips. He was so mesmerized by these miraculous, impossible gifts that he didn’t even notice the tears slowly rolling down his face.
“Childlike wonder and Christmas magic has always been, and will always be, my specialty. Love Santa,” the next tag proclaimed. This larger box was filled to the brim with toys. Wooden letter blocks, Lego sets, assorted bath toys, coloring books and crayons, and more treasures than he could take in at once. Benny was openly crying now, his heart swelling so big in his chest that it was threatening to burst.
“Because the best little boy deserves a best little friend. Love Santa.” The next box was quite sizable, and once Benny had unwrapped it he was thrilled to reveal a giant, cream-colored teddy bear with a pale blue ribbon tied in a bow at his neck. The bear, when stood up, would be nearly as tall as Benny himself. Benny hugged the giant plush tightly.
That only left one box, the largest of the bunch. “Be proud of who you are, little guy. Love Santa.” Benny eagerly tore the wrapping paper away from the large corrugated cardboard box. Trembling a little, he hastily grabbed a pair of scissors from the utility drawer in the kitchen and, using one blade of the scissors, he cut through the heavy packing tape sealing the box. His heart skipped a beat when he saw what the box contained: bags of adult-sized diapers printed with cute little pastel dinosaurs, eight bags of ten diapers each. Eighty diapers in total, all for him.
Benny was sobbing, trembling as he sunk back down onto the couch. How had this happened? It couldn’t be a joke; he’d been too careful to hide this side of himself. Nobody could possibly know him so completely. And nobody could’ve broken in without Benny noticing, especially when there were no visible signs of an intruder to be found anywhere in the small apartment. But the only other alternative, that Santa Claus was real and had somehow magicked himself into Benny’s apartment to leave adult-sized baby gifts while the man slept, was equally unbelievable. That was the kind of thinking that got a grown adult locked up in some sort of facility. No, it was impossible.
Still, his eyes slid over to the unusually intricate St. Nicholas ornament he’d given pride of place at the top of his tiny tree, and he jerked with a harsh intake of breath. For the briefest of moments, Benny would’ve sworn that the ornamental Santa winked at him. He blinked and looked again, but the cheery, rosy face of the painted Claus stared back at him, unmoving.
The following Christmas, beginning a personal holiday tradition that would last his whole lifetime, Benny made certain to leave a plate of cookies out for Santa. Just in case.