While waiting for the annual visit from Santa, Anya witnesses a near-accident with the old man and his sleigh. Only quick magic can prevent a disaster — but with what consequences?

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Special Dedication:
Grandmother and I would like to thank Elrod for his efforts at bringing our stories to life. We've used a bit of magic to help inspire his tales of our special park and people. We know things haven't gone well for him this past year. Perhaps a bit of Christmas magic will help restore his happy spirits and free his wonderful creative imagination to continue writing (and hopefully more of our tales!)

Merry Christmas to all!

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Note from Elrod: One morning near Christmas, years ago, I found this story on my computer. I claimed to the group that I didn't remember writing it - naturally, no-one believed me. Was it Anya and Grandmother channeling their magic through my computer, or through sleep-writing, as a gift to me and the group? All I know is that I believe in Christmas magic, then and now. Merry Christmas, Happy Hannakuh, and Seasons Greetings!

This story is copyright by the author. It is protected by licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

With another quick nervous glance at the fireplace, then at the clock, Anya sat eagerly in her chair. Before her, on the coffee table, a pair of champagne glasses bubbled and fizzed, their contents freshly poured and waiting. Anya checked again, for perhaps the hundredth time, then chided herself. It was silly, she thought, to be so anxious; it wasn't like he was going to be late. After all, he never had been, not once in all the years.

For a moment, she thought of the first time, when her mother had awakened her in the middle of the night on that magical Christmas all those years ago. She'd been so sleepy, but the wonder of that meeting was fresh in her mind, forever etched by the magic of the moment. And so it had been ever since; her mother awakened her, or let her stay up, just for the one moment. Anya thought of all that joy, and a tear welled in her eye, trickling down her cheek. At times like this, how she missed her mother.

She wiped away the tear, remembering how her grandmother had made a special effort to renew the magic that first year after her mother had died, how they had both been awake. She'd been surprised at how the old woman seemed to know the visitor so well, and how they had both known to make that particular Christmas special.

In the distance, she heard the popping of firecrackers; some kids insisted on displaying fireworks whatever the season. To Anya, it just didn't seem right. Christmas was supposed to be quieter, a more restrained joy than the boisterous noise of fireworks. She shrugged. To each his own.

Even before her ears could pick up the faint jingling of the bells, Anya sensed the magic. She knew — he was here. She practically leaped to her feet and sprang to her balcony, throwing open the door and stepping out to the cool night air.

At once, Anya regretted her choice of clothing. In all the past years, she'd been in her pajamas or jeans and sweater, and the coolness wouldn't have hit her. And in the past, it had been okay for her to dress like that. She'd been surprised, even shocked, at how grandmother had flirted; it had seemed almost sacrilegious. But the old man had loved it, and had flirted back. Anya didn't understand at the time. But now she was a woman, and she thought it was her turn to be a little bolder, and maybe be the cause of a smile on the old elf's face.

Her eyes scanned the sky, peering through the inky darkness. Then a smile crept onto her lips. There he was. It was unmistakable to her eyes — the tiny sleigh and its eight reindeer. And there he was, holding the reins in one hand as he guided the magic vehicle on his annual rounds. He scanned, and caught sight on Anya on the balcony. He was still too far for her to see, but she knew that his smile had just broadened. Most of his visits were anonymous, and visiting a friend, even if only for a moment, brought joy to his rounds.

Anya saw a brief flash on the ground, and wondered what it was. Then she saw a streamer of sparks climbing skyward, ever higher. She snorted her disgust. Some punk kids were interrupting her magical moments. Why did kids these days do these things? Weren't the old traditions good enough?

Her disgust turned to horror as she realized, too late, that the sky rocket was climbing rapidly, it's trajectory carrying it quickly toward the sleigh. And just as she realized this, it exploded in a shower of light and noise, sparkling streamers dancing through the sky and right into the team of now-frightened reindeer.

Santa valiantly fought to control his team, startled as they were by the nearby explosion. But the team had been spooked, and in their fright, two of the reindeer had tangled their harnesses. As the horrified Anya watched, the team lost their neat alignment; more harnesses snarled as the frightened animals reacted with their instincts. The sleigh began to veer, then to tumble outright.

Anya didn't think; she reacted. She knew that she couldn't stop the crash; her magic wasn't that controlled — yet. But she could do something. With every fiber of her being, she thrust out her power, trying desperately to catch the tumbling mass of reindeer, sleigh, and Santa. She felt the strain tearing at her, the sheer effort exhausting her energy. But she felt it — she was succeeding. Partly, at least, but she was slowing the fall.

Given enough height, Anya could have probably stopped the sleigh. But the sleigh had been on final approach to her condo, and height was the one thing she didn't have. She simply ran out of time. Her heart sank as she saw the ground rise up to meet the sleigh. A wail of anguish ripped at her heart; she _should_ have been able to stop it, to save Santa. The sleigh vanished behind some trees. She'd failed, and now Santa was ...

The enormous splashing sound took a few seconds to reach her ears. And when it did, her horror turned to curiosity, and as her mind assembled the facts, then to hope. Of course!

Anya grabbed her coat and dashed from her apartment, not even stopping to lock the door. The elevator seemed interminably slow; she waited only a couple of seconds before she dashed down the stairs, too impatient to wait for the lift. Still in her slippers, she sprinted out the door, then across the still-warm asphalt parking lot.

If Anya could have seen herself, she would have laughed aloud. She was wearing a waist-length coat over a sexy but not-too-revealing nightgown, and wearing her lucky bunny slippers. She was, fortunately, too focused on her task to think about the ridiculous state of her attire. In only a few seconds, she was at the gate.

Anya didn't bother to fumble finding a key; she just waved her hands and the locks sprang open. She walking quickly into the park, and then had another horrifying thought. The reindeer! They were still enmeshed in the harnesses, tangled with each other! With a renewed sense of urgency and panic, she broke into a run again.

Most people would have been disoriented by the darkness inside the park; Anya wasn't. With only the faint light of a quarter moon, she traversed the concrete paths with certainty, guided by her instincts, her knowledge, and her magical senses. Around her, palm trees swayed in the breeze, but she saw none of them. She passed by the tropical lagoon without seeing it. On her left, the aqua tracks of Pele's run passed through her peripheral vision without her really being aware of them. On she ran, using the power of her magic to keep her muscles energized. She passed the concession stand, and still she ran. Finally, after what seemed forever, she burst through a gap in the trees and onto the beach of the Tropical Waves.

Anya sighed with relief as she gazed into the pond. She'd been half-expecting to see a wrecked sleigh, reindeer still entangled, held under the water and drowned. But she'd underestimated the jolly old elf.

He stood waist deep in the water, helping the last of his team out of the harnesses. Beyond him, the sleigh was on its side, but only half-submerged. The crash hadn't been as bad as Anya had feared. She _had_ been able to save them after all.

Santa, in his sodden jacket, led his last reindeer out of the water. He gave it a quick exam, and satisfied that it was okay, he laughed. "Just a bit wet, Comet," he chuckled. "We've been through worse." Then he turned to Anya. His dimples deepened as his smile grew wider. "Ho, ho, ho!" he called. "Thank you for your help, my friend!" He walked lightly toward the girl, his boots making an odd squish, squash sound as he trudged through the damp sand.

Anya smiled and gave the old man a soggy hug, then a quick peck on his cheek. His ruddy cheeks got redder as he blushed at the kiss. "I'm glad I could help," Anya said with a smile.

Santa shook his head. "I'm so mad at myself," he said in disgust. "I should have been paying more attention to driving." He scowled at his own negligence. "Now I've going to be late while I get the sleigh out and rehitch the team."

Anya glanced at the sleigh, then smiled at Santa. "Oh, don't worry about that." She made small motions with her hands, and chanted, and with her magic guiding it, the sleigh slowly righted itself, then began to slide out of the water, up onto the beach.

Santa watched, and from his expression, it was obvious that while impressed, he wasn't shocked. When the sleigh slid to a stop, he climbed in, turning to examine the bag. "Well what do you know!" he exclaimed with glee. "They're all dry!" He turned back to Anya. "Oh, this is grand! I'll only lose a few minutes, and I won't have to disappoint any of the children!"

Anya started to smile, then her mouth began to drop open and her eyes widened. "Oh, shit!"

Santa's eyes narrowed. "Now, dear girl, please don't ..." his voice squeaked, and he cleared his throat, "please don't use such language on this night." He cleared his throat again, frowning. Somehow, his throat felt funny.

Anya knew that the voice wasn't the only thing. She watched as his beard began to shorten, ever so slowly, retracting into his face. All the while, the snow-white hair began to take on some color even as it slowly crept down his shoulders and onto his back. "Oh, no!" Anya cried. "Santa, you went in the water!"

The jolly elf wrinkled his nose. "Yes, when we crashed. But I don't ..." He broke off again, confused by the softening tones emanating from his vocal chords.

Anya cringed. "But the water is magic," she said, wincing. Even as she spoke, she saw the changes continuing. The round tummy was deflating like a balloon, while his chest began to show a pair of small but growing bulges. His pants were shifting, fluidly, crawling up his legs, the hems spreading and widening until they fused into one tube. Still they changed, until the pants were only a short red skirt trimmed in white fur. Beneath the skirt, Santa's legs were much less manly; now smooth and curvy, they continued to reform themselves until they were among the most graceful female legs ever to walk the earth.

On his feet, the hefty black boots flowed, climbing higher up Santa's calves. The reduction in Santa's height was made up for by the growth in his heels; the tight graceful boots now sporting three inch heels. The leather seemed to cling to Santa's shapely legs like they had been sprayed on; not a curve was hidden from view by the sexy footwear.

And Santa didn't seem to notice. Anya glanced back up, and gasped at the changes she saw happening. No longer did Santa have a round jolly belly; above his shapely hips and rounded tush, a delicate and oh-so-feminine waist greeted the eyes. Santa's jacket, a heavy loose-fitting garment, had slowly transformed into a tight low-cut jacket of the same color, but now clinging to his every curve. Large round bosoms were trying to squeeze up through the neckline, giving the changed Santa very generous cleavage.

The weathered face of the old man had shed years and now appeared to be no older than twenty-five. Gone was the heavy beard and moustache. Instead, a very soft delicate face peered from under the red cap; the same twinkling nose was now fine and had a slightly sexy upturn, while his ruddy cheeks were higher and more defined. Ruby lips, previously hidden by the heavy white beard, now plumped into full sensuous view. A wisp of brown hair hung down by one ear, while the remaining locks trailed off behind his slender neck, falling into a ponytail down Santa's back.

Anya gasped at the totality of the effect. Santa was...gorgeous! "Uh, Santa?" Anya said hesitantly, "the water — it changed you. Just like it's supposed to do to men."

The gorgeous incarnation that had been an old man frowned. "I don't understand," he said, frowning anew at the strange sound echoing in his ears. "And what's happened to my voice?"

Anya waved her hand, producing a mirror from nothingness. "Uh," she stammered as she handed the mirror to her friend, "you'd better have a look."

Santa took the mirror, then her jaw dropped. "Oh, my!" she said in her new sexy contralto voice. "Oh, this isn't good!" The hand holding the mirror dropped, the mirror falling softly to the sand below. Santa gazed downward, staring into the impressive cleavage on his chest. "Oh my!" he said once more.

Anya bit her lower lip, cringing. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "Grandmother designed this park for women, and instilled her magic in the water. It changes men into women." She glanced at Santa again, feeling very sheepish. "I'm sorry," she said again.

Santa shook his head, surprised by the bobbing ponytail waving around his shoulders. "It wasn't your fault," he said, still uneasy with his new voice. "And it beats having a bad crash." He turned and patted one of the reindeer. "Right, Blitzen?" The reindeer turned, looking at him, and snorted loudly.

Santa's eyes narrowed, then he looked more closely at his reindeer. "Oh, no!" he finally cried.

"What?" Anya asked, alarmed by the tone of Santa's voice. "What's wrong?"

Santa closed his big blue eyes and sighed, then opened his eyes again. "Look at them."

Anya looked at the reindeer, and then back at Santa. "I don't get it," she said, confused.

Santa sighed once more. "Look down below. They're all supposed to be boy reindeer."

Anya glanced, then her eyes widened. "Oh, oh!" she gasped. "They're all ..."

Santa nodded. "Girl reindeer." He shook his head, ignoring the ponytail. "And Blitzen, for one, isn't any too happy about it." He shook his head again, worry creeping onto his pretty features. "What are we going to do about this?"

Anya wrinkled her nose. "I don't know." She shivered in the chilly air, and thought for only a millisecond. "Let's go back to my condo and think."

Struggling with the weaker muscles, Santa and Anya rehitched the reindeer team, then the two climbed into the sleigh. "On Dasher," Santa called in a commanding voice. The lead reindeer turned, glancing over its shoulder at Santa, and it snorted. Santa gasped in exasperation. "Look, Dasher, I don't like this any more than you do. But we have to do something to figure this out. Now let's go!" Reluctantly, the reindeer tightened in their harnesses, then took a few steps and leaped into the air.

**********

Santa sat in one of the twin stuffed chairs, looking uncomfortable but sexy in the black boots and short red skirt. She'd removed the warm jacket, and was now clad only in a bright red bra which barely contained the large breasts on her chest. She wasn't happy at wearing a bra, but the jacket was just too warm.

Anya took a sip of soda. The glasses of champagne were long since forgotten in the chaos of the change. "Look, Santa, you've _got_ to go! All the children are counting on you!"

Santa shook her head, then glanced down at her cleavage, her hands cupping but held deliberately far from her cleavage. "Like this? How can I go out like this?" She looked back at Anya, shaking her head sadly as she fought back tears. "I  ¬_know_ that the kids are counting on me, but I can't go like this!"

Santa jumped at the sound of the doorbell. "Who's that?" she asked, startled.

Anya leaped from her chair and padded to the door. "That's Greg, my boyfriend," she answered as she opened the door. She tried to smile at Greg, and gave him a quick kiss. "Hi, Greg. Thanks for coming so fast."

Greg smiled. "Glad to help." Then his expression got more serious. "What's up?" He glanced in the room and spied what looked like a lovely girl in a Santa suit. Or part of a Santa suit. "Who's your friend?" he asked, his voice betraying his eagerness to be introduced. He hadn't failed to notice that the shapely girl was wearing only a bra — a red lacy demi-bra that barely covered her large sensuous breasts.

Anya gave him a sharp elbow. "Control yourself, Greg. My _friend_ is Santa Claus."

Greg smiled at the girl, then glanced at Anya. "Good one, Anya." He looked back longingly at the girl. "So who is she, really?"

The girl frowned. "I, dear boy, am really the one and only Santa Claus. St. Nicholas. Father Christmas." The voice lowered a bit. "And dozens of other names," she muttered.

Greg grinned. So they were both in on this, huh? He smiled, and then he saw Anya's expression. His smile froze. "You're serious, aren't you?" he asked slowly.

Santa sighed. "I know this is hard to believe, but I am the real Santa Claus. But since you doubt me, let me remind you that when you were four, you thought you wanted a race car set, but you were much happier when I brought you the 1880 train set."

Greg's jaw dropped. "You really are Santa Claus!" he exclaimed. Then he glanced at Anya. "What the hell happened? I thought he was a jolly old man."

Santa frowned. "Would you please stop using such language around me," she begged softly. "It's so ... unseemly. And on this special night, too!"

Greg barely glanced at Santa. "Sorry," he apologized quickly. He returned his stare to Anya. "So what happened? Did you give him a shower or something?"

Anya fumed silently. "No," she protested. "Nothing like that." She silently pushed her irritation level down. "There was an ... accident. He crashed into the Tropical Waves pool."

Greg glanced at Santa, who was nodding, then back at Anya. "So now he's ... a girl?" He glanced at Santa again. "So why did you call me?"

Santa rose and stomped across the floor, cringing at how the breasts bounced and swayed despite the bra. She crossed her arms, cringing at how the boobs got in his way. Not realizing what the result was, she force them up out of the way, emphasizing the very generous cleavage displayed in the demi-bra. "Now look here," she said sternly, "I have a lot of work to do tonight, and I'm stuck like this for another five or six hours until I change back." She sighed again. "And if that isn't bad enough, my reindeer all got changed, too!"

Greg's eyes widened at the news. He was surprised. He alternated his gaze from Santa to Anya, and back to Santa. "So?" he finally asked. "What's the problem?"

"What's the problem?" Santa wailed. "You don't see a problem with this situation?"

Greg shook his head. "No, I don't. What difference does it make if you're a guy or a girl?"

Santa shook her head, not believing what she was hearing. "Because it's _tradition_, that's why!" she snorted. "The boys and girls are expecting a jolly old man. Not a ... pinup girl!" She glanced at Anya for backing.

Anya, however, was suddenly unsure. "Look, Santa, you know when they're sleeping, and when they are awake, right?" Santa nodded, puzzled. "So what difference does it make?"

Santa started to open her mouth, then stopped. Maybe Anya had a point. But then again .... "But in this body, I don't have the strength! I can't finish the job in one night! Not with this body!"

Anya digested this fact, then reluctantly nodded. But Greg wasn't put off. "So why don't you get a couple of elves to help you? Wouldn't that do the job?"

Santa's eyes lit up, the merriment of Christmas slowly returning. Maybe. Just maybe, she thought. Then she realized the logistical problem. "That's a good idea, Greg, but it won't work. I don't have time to fly back to the workshop and then get back on track." She shook her head. "Not after all the time I've lost so far."

Greg let the facts sink in, and felt his heart sink. So close. But then, in the corner of his eye, he saw Anya making some motions with her hands. He turned — just in time to see her changing. Quickly, her body shifted, getting much shorter and more delicate, while her clothing morphed into a Peter-pannish miniskirt and green top. Her ears grew pointed, like Spock ears, while her fuzzy slippers slimmed into pointed shoes. When the changes were done, she held her hands wide, modeling for Santa. "How's this?" She was the image of a perfect little elf. A girl elf.

Santa, eyes wide at the magical change, slowly began to smile. "That's nice," he said. Then she shook her head. "But I'm afraid it'll take more than one elf to let me finish the job in one night."

Anya nodded slowly, then her hands suddenly moved again. And as fast as she had changed, Greg felt the room spin as he rapidly lost height. His ears felt funny, and his clothing was a bit tighter. He glanced down, finding himself wearing a comparable outfit to Anya, and with the same pointed little boots. He glanced up, and saw that Santa, even as a woman, now towered over him. "Very funny, Anya," he said, surprised at the squeaky little elf voice he now had.

"You will help, won't you?" Santa said, sounding as if she'd suddenly mastered the sexy alluring voice.

Greg melted. "Aw," he mumbled, glancing down at his feet. "I guess so." He glanced back up to see Santa grinning at him. She leaned over and planted a big kiss on Greg's forehead; Santa probably didn't realize that Greg's smile was due to the display of Santa's very lovely cleavage that he'd just gotten.

Anya, however, _had_ noticed. She gave Greg an elbow in the ribs. "Control yourself," she hissed at him, so low that Santa wouldn't hear. "I don't want you drooling over Santa's tits all night long!" Greg gave her an innocent look, as if to say 'who, me?'. But he dropped his head quickly. Anya wasn't buying it.

**********

Greg climbed into the front seat, while Anya climbed in the rear, next to the huge sack of toys. As Santa picked up the reins, she winced, then glanced at Greg. Santa looked over his shoulder, at Anya, then out the front at her team of reindeer. They were all fidgeting nervously, and glancing at Greg as well. Finally Santa turned back to Anya. "This isn't going to work, Anya," she said.

Anya's forehead wrinkled. "Why not?" she asked, puzzled.

Santa leaned back and whispered at Anya. Anya's eyes widened, then she nodded her understanding. She whispered a few words to Santa, who glanced at Greg and nodded. Then she grasped the reins and urged her team into the air.

They landed almost immediately in the entrance plaza of Bikini Beach. Greg glanced uncertainly at Santa, then at Anya. "What's going on?" he asked cautiously.

Anya leaped from the sleigh and tugged Greg out. "Look, the team isn't used to being a mixed team. The reindeer are nervous. They can sense that you aren't the same as they are."

Greg frowned. "I don't follow. What do you mean, not the same?" Then he saw where Anya was leading him.

Anya explained quickly. "They're all girls. Santa is a girl. I'm a girl. But you're not."

Greg frowned. "First you introduce me to a Santa that belongs in a calendar. Then you turn me into an elf. And now you want to turn me into a girl elf?"

Anya nodded, eyes wide open pleadingly. "Please, Greg. So much depends on it!"

Greg stared into those gorgeous eyes, and knew he was doomed. There was no use in fighting Anya on this one. Not if she was going to use the eyes. "Okay," he muttered. "Okay. I'll do it." He trudged into the locker room. For a few brief seconds, the sound of running water came out the door. After another couple of minutes, Greg came out, dried off and dressed in a cute little girl elf outfit. Like Anya, he wore a short skirt of green with a matching tunic. Unlike Anya, the tunic had a low neckline, and large (for an elf) breasts jutted forth, displaying cute elfin cleavage. His hips were rounder, and his waist tinier; the belt cinching his tunic accentuated the lovely curves of his new body. "Satisfied?" he said in a delightful little elfin voice.

Santa grinned. "Ho, ho, ho!" she cried in joy. Even those words sounded less jolly than sultry, given her new sexy voice. "Christmas is saved!" She turned back to her team as Anya and Greg climbed back into the sleigh. With a flick of her wrist, the reindeer leaped into the sky, the sleigh full of toys, a pinup version of Santa, and two lovely and curvy elf helpers.

**********

The little boy was sleeping on the sofa, a teddy bear tucked under one arm, the other arm dragging to the floor and still clutching a blanket. His head rested on a throw pillow; his feet, snug in the footed sleeper, sprawled on the couch. The lights on the Christmas tree twinkled in the night, casting a magic spell on the scene. Behind the sofa, across the room, three small stockings and two large ones hung on the fireplace mantle. On the hearth, a plate of cookies and a glass of milk waited.

The noise on the roof was soft, as if something had lit upon the snowy shingles. Tiny thumps echoed softly as if many tiny hooves stamped impatiently. Though soft, the noise crept through the sleep, awakening the little lad. He raised his hands to his eyes, rubbing out the sleep as he yawned.

Something made a soft plop in the fireplace; the little boy peeked over the top of the sofa, his eyes suddenly alert. Santa was here!

And then his eyes widened even further. It wasn't Santa. It was ... a girl! In a Santa Claus suit. "Who ... who are you?" he asked softly, stunned that he wasn't seeing the jolly old man.

The girl smiled pleasantly. "I'm Santa," she said softly. "Let's see," the girl said, pondering something for a moment, "you've been mostly good this year, haven't you. I think I've got something for your stocking."

The boy shook his head. "Santa is a man," he said defiantly, glaring at the young lady.

The girl smiled. "Not this year." She chuckled happily. "Not this year." She dumped a sack on the floor, then began to look inside. Had he been a few years older, the little boy might have fully appreciated the view of the girl's shapely tush as she bent over. "Now let's see. You wanted a Star Wars pod racer game, didn't you? No, that's not right," she said to herself. "It was your brother who wanted the pod racer game. You wanted the Qui Gon light saber." She rummaged around and dug out a couple of neatly wrapped boxes, which she slid into the stockings. A few more gifts, and she closed the sack and hoisted it on her back. "Well, Merry Christmas," she sang out sweetly.

The little boy frowned. "Wait, Santa," he complained. "You have to eat your milk and cookies."

Santa's eyes widened, then he glanced at where the boy was pointing. Sure enough, on the hearth were a plate of cookies and a glass of milk. Santa smiled sadly. "I'll pass on the cookies this year," she said with a twinkle in her eyes. She slipped her hand to her shapely waist. "I've got to watch my figure, you know!" She walked delicately across the room, then bent and gave the little lad a kiss on his forehead. "Merry Christmas," she said. She smiled and walked back to the fireplace, and then with a finger laid on the side of her pert little nose, she gave a wink and vanished up the chimney.

The boy watched Santa vanish, then he leaped from the couch. "Mom, Dad!" he yelled as he dashed down the hall. "Santa was here! And guess what! Santa's a girl!"

**********

As she climbed back into the sleigh, Santa smiled. "I should have never doubted you, Anya," she said with a smile. "Christmas is a success, and there won't be any disappointed children." She took the reins. "And this is a lot of fun, too! You should see how some of the kids react to a lady Santa!" She gave Anya a wink. "Maybe I'll do this again next year!"

The reindeer, as one, glanced over their shoulders and snorted their disgust. It was clear that, while Santa was having fun, they were not. And they hoped she wasn't serious about doing this again.

With a snap of the reins, the sleigh leaped into the air, a sultry "Ho, Ho, Ho, Merry Christmas!" echoing through the brisk night air as the team flew to on to the next destination.

FIN