‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. Feeling stupid – at fourteen, I would never admit to anyone that I still believed in Santa – but ten minutes before midnight, I put down my tablet, and in my pajamas and bare feet, I snuck over to the Christmas tree. I had done it every year since I was a toddler. At first, I really believed in Santa – after all, I always found my presents under the tree! Of course, I never met Santa himself, so with time, my faith began to fade. But I still had a bit left in me. I will kill you if you tell anyone.

Silently, I found my way by touch on the cold floor of the well-known dark corridor until I reached the doorway. As always, I held my breath and peeked inside. The decorated Christmas tree blinked its lights. Bright moonlight fell from the uncurtained windows. And, as I had secretly expected but still found quite surprising, there was a white-bearded, bulky figure leaning towards the base of the tree, wearing a bright red, long-sleeved, fur-trimmed jacket. My heart skipped a beat. Then my critical side kicked in. Don’t be a fool, Meg. It’s just Daddy in disguise, placing our presents under the tree. But why is he going to so much effort to put on the suit? Neither Tim nor I were at an age where dressing up could fool us.

Then the figure straightened up and looked at me. My heart sank for good. It wasn’t Daddy.

“You’re supposed to be in bed, asleep,” he said in a soft but deep voice.

I swallowed hard, my legs shaking like jelly. I wanted to say something funny like “Says you, Santa”, or something like “So you really exist,” but all I could get out was a squeaky sound.

Santa grinned. “What are you doing here so late, sweetie?”

“I ... I...” My heart fluttered. “I just wanted to ... see you. For me, well, I still believe. Somewhere deep,” I stammered. “Please, don’t laugh.”

“Ho. Ho. Ho,” he said, trying to soften his booming voice. “Sorry. It’s just a reflex. I’m not going to laugh. I promise.” He smiled at me warmly. “Only true believers can see me. It’s a rare thing in today’s world, so it’s all the more precious. It’s worth a reward.” He looked deep into my eyes. “So, Maggie, were you nice or naughty?”

I took a deep breath. “Nice, I guess. But I want to be naughty. That’s the problem, Santa.” The words came out in a rush, fueled by the late hour and the magic of the moment. “No boys ever notice me. My breasts haven’t grown yet. I’m flat as a board. I have no hips or butt either. The other girls at school already look so much older and curvier! They gossip about boyfriends, kissing, and ... other stuff. And I’m already fourteen! I also deserve it!”

I said everything at once and then stopped, my lips shaking and tears starting to well up in my eyes. I felt like if I kept going, I’d start crying right on the spot. How embarrassing.

He nodded thoughtfully. “I see, I see. So what’s your dearest desire then, Maggie?”

I blushed. Even though I was only speaking to Santa – who presumably watches me in my sleep and knows everything about me anyway – it was still terribly embarrassing to ask what was on my mind. My palms were sweating, my heart was beating in my throat, and the feeling of wanting and not being able to have what you wanted was so overwhelming that it made me want to die. Then my shyness gave way to a sudden resolve.

“I want to be approached, Santa! By boys. I want to be popular! I want them to ... I want to have sex with them. Lots of it. More than other girls have!” I gulped.”And let it be good. Please,” I forced out.

I’d said it. I had blurted it out, and I couldn’t take it back. I wanted the floor to swallow me whole. But Santa looked at me and winked. I could have sworn I heard him chuckle.

“I see. Well, that’s a bold thing for someone so young,” he said in a joking tone, “but I can certainly grant that wish.” He got serious. “But everything comes at a cost, Maggie. If you want to be seen, you have to show off. If you want to be approached, you have to embrace it. Are you ready for that?”

What did he mean? The question made me a little uneasy, but I ignored the strange feeling and nodded eagerly. “Yes! I’m ready! I promise!”

“Good.” Santa’s smile widened. “Then from tonight on, your wish is granted.”

I was overjoyed. For a moment, I stood on wobbly legs, not knowing what to do, then I said excitedly, “Santa, that was the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me!” I ran to him and hugged him. Santa laughed softly and patted my head. “Merry Christmas, little one.”

But I didn’t let go. He felt warm. His smell was intoxicating. I didn’t want to let go. Then he picked me up effortlessly and carried me in his arms like I was a small child again. My heart pounded. I could hear it like a drum in my ears. I nestled against him as he held me close. The feeling of safety and warmth was overwhelming.

“Close your eyes,” he whispered. I did. I was on another plane, flying, soaring through the sky, held by an unseen presence, then I felt a gentle tug on my pajama pants, then another. “This wish comes at a higher price than just cookies and milk, Maggie.”

What? I squealed and stirred in his embrace, feeling too enchanted to truly resist. “Santa?...”

“You wished for an adult thing, little one. It’s time for you to cross the threshold into adulthood, then.”

My pajama top fell to the floor, following the pants. A warm breeze from the chimney swirled around my bare legs, and I had the sudden urge to lift my bottom. I did. Santa took the hint and gently pulled my panties down.

“I...” I wanted to protest, but a sudden tingle of pleasure from the exposure overcame me, silencing my fears. What’s happening? My shyness gave way to this new feeling. Why does being nude suddenly feel so good?

“Open your eyes, Maggie,” Santa whispered, his breath warm in my ear.

I opened them. Santa had sat down on the armchair in front of the Christmas tree and set me down on his lap, facing away from him, towards the tree and the moonlit window. The moon painted stripes of light across the floor and my body.

“You’re a beautiful girl, Maggie,” Santa whispered, his hands now roamed my slender body. They roamed over my belly, my hipbones, my small, budding breasts where my nipples stood at full attention for the first time in my life. The sensation was incredible, beyond anything I had ever felt. I wasn’t sure if it was due to the touch, or because it was Santa’s, or because I was naked. Perhaps all of it. I had never been in such a position in my life, you know!

“Don’t look back. Some things should not be seen by mortals,” his booming voice sounded above my ear. I obediently stared at the blinking Christmas tree, feeling his strong hands under my thighs, raising me a bit, then slowly lowering back down. Something hard, and cold, and burning at the same time has touched my pussy.

“S-Santa?” I stammered, “What are you ... ohhh!” A gasp of pleasure tore from my lips as I felt him enter me, slowly but persistently. A sudden sharp pain took my breath away. I cried out, but an immediate wave of pleasure followed the pain that was so intense I could barely think. He stretched me open, filling me up as I had never been filled before, a dull, aching, but at the same time wonderful, full, freezing, and hot feeling at the same time. I felt so alive! So seen! And I didn’t want it to stop.

“This is what you wished for, little one. And this is the price, too,” Santa said. “Do you accept the price?”

Tears welled in my eyes as I understood exactly what was happening, but my body responded to him in a way it never had. I shook. My hips twitched on their own. I could only nod. “Yes. Yes, Santa. Yes, yes, yes ... Don’t stop...”

As if my acceptance had unleashed something, he began to move inside me, slowly at first, then faster, deeper, and harder, with rhythmic motions that made me lose my mind. The world became a blur of sensation and flashing lights and moonlit patterns. My mind went blank, and all my senses were focused on this tingling, burning tension growing within me, gradually taking over my whole body ... and I cried out again, but this wasn’t a cry of pain. I felt a release, an explosion of pleasure that left me trembling and gasping. At the same moment, I felt him erupt inside me, pouring his heat deep within me in a series of powerful spasms. Something warm filled me.

The feeling was wonderful. The aftermath was even more so.

My whole body tingled, my hips still twitched from my release. The feeling of completeness, of fullness from being filled, and the slight burning sensation from our friction ... and the strange afterglow, the slight soreness and stickiness between my legs and thighs, and how it all glowed inside me. A wonderful mess. I collapsed back against him, my small body exhausted and spent.

Santa stayed inside me for a while, petting my hair. “That was your wish, little Maggie. Your wish and its price.” I could feel the smile in his voice. “From this day forward, you’ll have it this way again and again, all the more and merrier.”

“What do you mean?” I asked in a hoarse whisper, trembling on his lap.

“You’ll find out,” he said, and suddenly, he disappeared. I fell into the armchair. Ouch! He was gone. The only evidence that he had been there was the pleasant ache between my legs, the sticky warmth trickling down my thigh, and my discarded pajamas on the floor. I grabbed them and listened. We’d made enough noise to wake everyone up, but I didn’t hear anything. A kind of magic, I think. Okay. I did not know how to explain my state to them, and I did not want to.

Without bothering to get dressed, I walked to the Christmas tree. Yes, there were presents. I picked up three packages labeled with my name and went back to my room. There, I unwrapped them. The first two were from my parents and Timmy, I was sure. One was a set of jewelry that I had told them I wanted, and the other was a new phone that I really needed. The third package ... It was a vibrator. A powerful, multi-mode one with extensions for anal and clitoral stimulation. There were no markings or greeting card, and no address. But I knew who it was from.

Sprawled in my armchair, I toyed with my vibrator, exploring its features – no, just cradling it in my palms, what’s going through your mind? – when I heard footsteps in the hallway. Timmy passed by my open door, absorbed by his presents.

“Night, Meg,” he said without turning his head. “Thanks for the gaming mouse.”

“Thanks for the jewelry.”

We both laughed. Then, finally, my older brother stopped and turned his head. His eyes widened as he took in my naked body. “Meg...?” he stammered, his face flushing beet red.

Just a few hours ago, I would have squealed and covered myself. I would never let him see me without clothes in the first place! But now, his frantic gaze over my naked body felt almost like a caress. I had an overwhelming urge to give him a better view – to stand up, turn around, bend over, and spread my legs. I found myself leaning forward slightly and arching my back. I slowly licked the vibrator. What a show.

And I loved it. The power, the vulnerability, the thrill of being seen.

“Meg?” he repeated, taking a hesitant step into my room, then another. His eyes were locked onto my body, and a strange expression crossed his face. The flush deepened on his cheeks, but something else hardened in his gaze – and in his pants. Something that made the tingling between my legs return with a vengeance.

I didn’t say a word. I just looked at him as my heart started racing again. A new kind of heat began to spread through me. My shyness was gone. My reluctance to be seen was a distant memory. An insistent, throbbing need replaced it. To be wanted. To be taken. Oh God, Meg, what are you thinking? You asked Santa about your classmates, not your ... mmm ... brother.

“Like what you see, Tim?” I asked, surprising myself by my husky voice.