'Twas the night after Christmas ...

 

The clock chimed ten. Jolene placed the last of the presents beneath the tree. She slipped the disc into the player and a flaming yule log flashed onto the TV screen. One last thing to do and all would be ready. She padded out into the kitchen and returned with the gingerbread man and glass of milk, set them on the end table. She killed the house lights. The tree lights twinkled, the fire blazed. Perfect, she smiled. Well, almost.

Settled on the couch with a mug of cocoa liberally dosed with schnapps she smiled again. Now it was perfect. Nothing to do but wait for Santa.

The clock chimed 12 and at the last tone Jolene stepped over to the tree and retrieved a gift. There were twelve boxes, only six had presents. The others were empty, but they filled the void.

She opened the first box. It was a new watch. She knew that of course. She had bought it, along with the other five gifts. Her parents had died in a plane crash several years ago and there was no man in her life at the moment. Just her and her little gingerbread man.

Jolene bit the feet off the gingerbread man. "Thank you, Santa." Another gift, another bite, the legs this time, stopping just short of the torso. The next bite creeped her out. It was the same when she was a kid. That same creepy feeling when she lifted a doll's skirt and found nothing but smooth plastic. It just didn't seem right. And now she was about to eat the gingerbread man's crotch. But was it a man? Who knew? She bit.

Three gifts later and the gingerbread man was gone. She made one last mug of cocoa and fell asleep by the fire.

Christmas and the day after were uneventful. She resisted the urge to do anything productive. It was a tradition of hers. Put the tree up Christmas Eve, take it down 48 hours later. And in between do as little as possible.

At sunset, the night after Christmas, Jolene took a nice long, hot bath. She pulled on her robe and went into the living room. She pulled the plug on the tree.

Jolene grabbed an empty box, ripped off the paper and collapsed it. She reached for another, then stopped. There was an extra present.

She had opened her six gifts. There were six empty boxes. Yet there, hidden behind one of them, was another present. A small box. It's wrapping matched none of the paper she had. She pulled it out.

To Jolene
From Santa

The writing was flawless, nothing like hers at all. She stared at the box for a long minute, wracking her brain, trying to remember if she had, in fact, bought a seventh gift. And if she had, had it professionally wrapped? No, it was impossible, but there it was.

Jolene ripped the paper from the box. It was covered in fancy gold foil, but when she flipped it over she found a clear plastic lid and inside was a gingerbread man. But not just any gingerbread man. This one was anatomically correct. Sort of.

It looked like your basic gingerbread man, with it's pudgy body, blobs for feet and hands, a round face with two dots and a line for eyes and mouth. But this one had genitals. And not just any genitals, these looked absolutely real.

Jolene smiled. She had seen things like this before, cakes and confections in the form of various body parts. Kind of a gag gift. Very popular at wedding showers. Had she bought this? Given her musings about the little guy she had eaten two nights ago, it was possible. But when she thought about it she drew a total blank. She pulled off the lid.

The scent nearly knocked her over. It was gingerbread to the nth degree. So thick you could almost eat it. Her head spun and she experienced a moment of vertigo, but after a moment it passed and she sat on the couch, staring at the gingerbread man. She touched it. It was warm, as if it had just come out of the oven. Though still confused by the whole thing, she pulled it from the box, held it up to her nose. That scent. That glorious, magical scent! She bit off one of its feet.

It burned going down, then made her whole body tingle like a shot of schnapps on an empty stomach. She bit off the other foot. Glorious!

She tried to restrain herself, but it was no use. Each bite increased her yearning for more. She didn't resist.

With one last swallow the gingerbread man was gone, but she could still smell him. She sniffed her fingers and then realized it wasn't just her fingers. Her whole body oozed gingerbread. She felt warm and drowsy, dreamy. She lay back on the couch thoroughly content, comfortable, at peace with the world.

The face peering down at her had never been seen by man, yet any child would recognize it immediately.

"You've been a naughty girl, Jolene."

The voice was gentle, soothing. Jolene tried to open her eyes but couldn't. She felt as if she was melting. Her legs became one. She could no longer feel her toes or fingers. What little sense of touch she had told her she was shrinking as her arms and legs withdrew into her robe. And then there was nothing but the scent, the scent of fresh gingerbread. It was her last thought. It made her smile as her eyes and mouth became two dots and a line.

"Yes, you've been very naughty, eating Santa's treats. Every year you put out a treat for Santa and every year you eat it. Naughty, naughty, naughty."

He undid the belt and flipped her robe open. There was an adult-size version of the little gingerbread man, except this one was female, very definitely female and he smiled at the perfectly-formed, brown vulva. He would save that part for last.

"You see, Jolene, delivering toys to all the good boys and girls is hard work. It makes me hungry. Very, very hungry."

He snapped off one of her feet and munched.

"Very hungry indeed."

 

 

 

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