The new recruit

Taking a break from ThinkTech to publish this twisted short story just in time for Christmas. 

Chapter 1

Snow swirled outside the frosted windows of Santa’s workshop, glinting like glitter under cones of light cast by a row of red and white striped lampposts. Inside, however, chaos reigned. Elves scurried to and fro, arms laden with partially wrapped toys, tangles of ribbon trailing behind them. Somewhere in the distance, a train whistle tooted frantically. The reindeer were braying, eager to embark on their annual marathon journey.  

Santa Claus, as he strutted through the workshop with a commanding air, wasn’t the jolly, rotund old man depicted in Christmas cards. No, this Santa was a man on a mission. Broad shouldered and barrel chested, he nearly burst the seams of his iconic red suit. His snugly tailored crimson coat accentuated a robust torso with pecs like Christmas hams and arms that bulged beneath the thick, white fur trim. The buttons strained just enough to tease his robust build beneath.  

Looking unusually haggard, Santa paused at the center of the madness, clutching his hat in one white-knuckled hand. His cheeks were ruddy—not from Christmas cheer, but from frustration. He ran his free hand over his lush cascade of snowy white whiskers, magically putting every hair back into place.  

“This is a disaster,” he bellowed, echoing through the cavernous workshop. “Only three days left until Christmas, and Jingles quits to start an apiary in Portland, Oregon. I can’t manage this circus alone. How will I get by without my Chief Elf?”   

Nearby, Steve—a mild-mannered man in his late forties who had no business being in the North Pole—shifted uncomfortably on a candy cane–shaped stool. His sweater vest was too thin for the Arctic chill, and his knitted brows suggested he regretted tagging along to his new boyfriend’s office.  

“Listen, Nick,” Steve began, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know it’s your busy season and everything, but I was hoping we could talk about… us. Our relationship. I’m not sure I’m cut out for the whole ‘boyfriend of Santa’ gig.”  

Santa turned, seeing Steve as if for the first time. He and Steve had only been dating for a few weeks. Like most of Santa’s exes, Steve had had trouble adjusting to his unique occupation. He liked Steve and might even love him, but now wasn’t the time for the stereotypical “Where is this going?” conversation. If only he could buy some time until after Christmas.  

Santa’s eyes twinkled with mischief.  

He approached Steve, the gold accents of his suit glinting under the lights with each step. He rested one hand on his gleaming silver belt buckle and let the reflections dazzle across Steve’s face. Placing the other hand on Steve’s shoulder, he leaned so close Steve could feel his body heat and breathe in the musk of a man who loved deadlifting as much as he loved desserts and treats.  

“Oh, Steve, you’re perfect for the gig. And I mean perfect.” He plopped his hat back on his head and clasped his gloved hands, rubbing them together as his plan coalesced. “You’re great with people. You’re organized. And—” he hesitated, his grin turning sly beneath his whiskers. “You’re pliable.”  

“Pliable?” Steve bit his lip.  

Before Steve could question further, Santa retrieved a glowing snow globe from his desk and handed it to Steve. It shimmered with an unsettling, iridescent blue light. Steve gazed into it, his attention captured without protest.  

“Hold still, sweetheart,” Santa said, a hint of growl in his voice.  

“Wait, what are you—” Steve tried to get up off the stool, but the snow globe pulsed, and suddenly his limbs felt like jelly. He slumped back down, his mind swimming as the light grew brighter.  

Santa’s voice, warm and velvety, poured into his ears. “You’re going to love this, Steve. Trust me. You’ve got everything it takes to be the perfect elf. A little jingle, a little sparkle, and a lot of Christmas cheer.”  

Steve’s protests died in his throat as a strange sensation washed over him. He felt… smaller? No, that wasn’t right. It was more like everything around him was getting bigger. His hands and feet seemed to inflate like overfilled balloons, and his middle began to round out, his sweater stretching over a belly that hadn’t been there five seconds ago.  

“Wait. Wait!” Steve finally managed to gasp. His voice was an octave higher than usual. “I don’t want to be an—”  

With a pop and a shimmer of glitter, his sweater vanished, replaced by a tight, shiny green PVC tunic and a belt cinched around his newly rotund waist. His pants were equally snug and metallic, and bells jingled somewhere as he shifted.  

“—an elf,” he finished weakly, staring at his reflection in a nearby mirror. His ears were pointed, his cheeks bright pink, and his formerly graying hair now bright blond and curled into a perfect swoop under a jaunty hat.  

“Oh, you look darling,” Santa cooed, admiring his handiwork. “And those proportions! Classic Chief Elf material.”  

Steve struggled to his feet, the bells on his curly-toed shoes jingling with every step. “This is insane, Nick. I can’t run a workshop. I’m an accountant from Milwaukee! I don’t even like—”  

Santa pressed a finger to Steve’s lips, cutting him off with an exaggerated “Shhh.” Steve obeyed.  

“You’ll be great, Steve. I believe in you. Now, let’s get you acquainted with the team.” Santa spun on his heel and called out to the room. “Everyone, meet your new Chief Elf!”  

A cheer erupted from the gathered elves, though a few of them cast Steve sidelong glances that suggested they knew precisely how he’d gotten the job.  

“Santa, I mean Nick,” Steve hissed as he was dragged toward the throng of cheering elves, “this is not what I signed up for!”  

Santa leaned in close, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Technically, you didn’t sign anything. But don’t worry—you’ll warm up to it. Besides,” he added with a wink, “you said you wanted us to spend more time together, right?”  

Chapter 2  

The workshop buzzed with controlled Christmas chaos as Steve, wobbling slightly on his curly-toed shoes, tried to keep his footing. The bells on his ridiculous outfit jingled with every movement, and the shiny PVC tunic clung uncomfortably to his increasingly rotund frame. But the real problem wasn’t the outfit or even the elves. It was his brain.  

Something was wrong. Very, very wrong.  

“Okay, okay,” Steve muttered, clutching his clipboard tightly as his free hand smoothed the absurdly large green bow tie affixed to his collar. “Focus, Steve. Just… focus. You’re a grown man. A normal, grown man. You’re not an—”  

But even as he spoke, the words felt sticky in his mouth, like his brain couldn’t quite hang onto them. The twinkling lights strung across the workshop started to look brighter—almost too bright—and the sugary scent of peppermint in the air made him feel giddy. Once sharp and resistant, his thoughts were unraveling like an old holiday sweater.  

“Ho, ho, ho! Look at you!” Santa bellowed as he strode toward Steve, his boots clomping with authority. “Chief Elf Steve, ready for duty!”  

“I’m not ready for duty!” Steve snapped—or at least tried to. The words came out slower and softer than he intended as if he wasn’t quite in control of his own voice. “I—um, uh—I… Wait, what was I saying?”  

Santa grinned, his rosy cheeks practically glowing. “That’s the spirit, my boy! A little Christmas cheer is all you need.”  

Before Steve could argue, a group of elves surrounded him, chattering excitedly.  

“Oh, he’s so tall!”  

“Look at those shoes! Adorable!”  

“Do you think he can handle the hammering station?”  

The flurry of voices swirled in his head, and Steve felt his lips curl into an involuntary smile. A high-pitched, tinkly giggle escaped his mouth—a sound so foreign it made him clap his hands over his mouth in horror. But the laughter wouldn’t stop.  

“Ho, ho, ho! That’s the ticket!” Santa exclaimed, clapping him on the back. “Now, let’s put that big brain of yours to good use, hmm? Or what’s left of it, anyway.”  

Steve frowned—or tried to. His face seemed stuck in a permanent expression of toothy, jolly cheer. “Big brain…?” he mumbled, the words feeling sluggish as they crawled out of his mouth.  

“Not to worry!” Santa said briskly, steering him toward a nearby assembly line. “The transformation takes time, but by Christmas Day, you won’t even remember what it was like to be a boring old accountant. You’re my perfect elf, Steve—a cheerful, obedient helper who loves nothing more than spreading holiday joy!”  

Steve blinked. A flicker of resistance sparked deep within him. “I don’t wanna be… obedient,” he said slowly, though the words felt hollow like he was reciting a line he’d forgotten the meaning of.  

Santa chuckled, pulling a candy-striped wand from his coat and tapping it gently against Steve’s head. A faint, glittery mist swirled around Steve’s face, and for a moment, everything smelled like hot cocoa.  

“You’re doing great,” Santa said, his voice honeyed and soothing. “Just let go, my boy. Let the Christmas spirit take over.”  

Steve’s body tingled as a warm, fuzzy sensation spread from his head to his toes. His posture straightened, his shoulders squared, and his arms flexed involuntarily as his muscles seemed to grow beneath the shiny green tunic. He glanced down at himself, his mind spinning as his hands—still large but now soft and pink with pudgy fingers—clumsily smoothed his tunic.  

“I feel… weird,” he said, his voice now a sing-songy tenor. His lips stretched into a grin so wide it almost hurt. “But also… good! I think? Haha! Yeah, good!” He clapped his hands together, the bells on his wrists jingling madly. “Oh boy! What’s next, boss?”  

Santa beamed. “There’s my Chief Elf!” He turned to the gathered workers, most staring up at Steve in wide-eyed astonishment. “Everyone, give Steve a warm welcome to the team!”  

The elves erupted into applause, and Steve, unable to help himself, gave an enthusiastic bow, his hat nearly toppling off his head. “Gosh, thanks, everyone!” he chirped, his voice bubbly and cheerful. “I’m just so excited to get started! What can I do? Wrap presents? Load the sleigh? Polish the reindeer hooves?”  

Santa leaned in close, his grin sly. “Let’s start small, Steve. How about sorting candy canes? I think you’ll find it… relaxing.”  

Steve nodded vigorously, his bells jingling like mad. “Yes, Sir, Santa, Sir! Candy canes! I’ll sort the heck out of ’em!”  

As Santa watched his new Chief Elf prance off toward the candy cane sorting station, he stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Ah, perfect,” he muttered to himself. “He’s big enough to handle the heavy lifting, dumb enough to do whatever I say, and cheerful enough to keep the others in line.”  

Steve, meanwhile, hummed a merry tune as he grabbed handfuls of candy canes and began arranging them in neat little piles. Once filled with thoughts of resisting and returning home, his mind was now consumed by one singular goal: making Santa proud.  

And deep inside him, the last remnants of Steve the accountant flickered faintly before being snuffed out entirely. 

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