******The following story is fiction and the characters involved in sexual acts are over the age of 18******
Mariah Carey's "All I Want for Christmas Is You" had just finished playing in the speaker when my supervisor approached me. "Hey, Arturo, Maritsa called out. Can you be Santa's helper today?" He held up the ugly Santa's helper outfit.
I rolled my eyes, "No one else can do it?"
"No, you're the only one who can fit into the outfit, and it's just for one day," he pleaded.
Curse my slim figure.
It was last minute, and we already had many people outside waiting. What the heck? It was the season of giving.
I grabbed the outfit, "I'll take that as a compliment for my amazing figure."
"So you'll do it?" he said, relieved.
"Yeah, why not," I sighed, "Where is my Santa?
"He's on his way."
"Fantastic, I'll get ready."
My supervisor left me alone in the small closet, which was the returns closet. In this closet, we sorted all the returned items. It also served as an emergency changing room. It was my fifth year working at Target, located inside a mall. I was in my mid-twenties and still a stocker in the back. Although I had been offered higher positions, I liked the stocking position. Dealing with the public was a rare occurrence.
My well-kept, slim figure is what kept me happy. I worked out 3 times a week, doing weight lifting and cardio. I wasn't trying to be well built, like sculpted actors like Glen Powell. He was my current Hollywood crush. After seeing him in the movie Twisters, I couldn't take him out of my head. My tall and lean figure attracted sculpted men, but I could never keep them. And part of me didn't want to keep them. I kept my face clean-shaven to keep my young features, and my eyes were emerald like the Emerald City from the Wizard of Oz.
In the closet, I stripped to my briefs and put on the uniform. The material was thick, so I knew it would get hot quickly. The pants were red, the shirt was designed to look like a candy cane, and the jacket was wintergreen. To finish out the outfit, I put on the red and green hat. I stood before the mirror. I hated it. I was already getting itchy wearing it.
My supervisor came back to the closet, "We got..." his voice trailed off when he saw the outfit on me. I forced a smile, "Wow! You look adorable!" he said.
"Let's not make this an annual thing. I don't even know whens the last time this thing has been washed. It's itchy and hot."
"We wash it after every use, so you can relax on that part. There is nothing I can do about the itchiness or the heat. I'm sorry. But it will be only for a few hours. And I have some bad news."
"What?" I spat out. I was already ready to be upset.
"Stephen can't come in, so they're sending a replacement Santa, and he is running late."
"Fucking great."
"Make sure not to curse in front of the children and their parents. Also, the broken Santa Sleigh is in the back of the Santa House. We couldn't get it fixed in time this year. You can sit on it, just don't rock it for any reason."
"I'll try not to rock it."
Stephen was our yearly Santa. He was a 50-year-old retired Veteran who loved being Santa Claus for the kids. Every year, he would bring us hot chocolate and stories. I loved listening to Stephen's stories. The man was stationed in Iraq for many years.
"Well, I hope the new Santa hurries up. Otherwise, I'm just going to start throwing the presents out to the kids."
My supervisor frowned, "That's not very Merry."
"Neither are these itchy ass pants!"
I stepped out onto the platform where our Santa Claus would be sitting. Behind the golden chair where he sat was a replica of Santa's home. You could go inside it, but there was nothing except a bench. The back part of the house was open, which is where the sleigh was parked. The windows were stained, so you couldn't see inside. The Santa sleigh was put behind the small building so the children didn't want to sit in it.
A sea of parents and children stood a few feet from the path that led to Santa's platform. It was loud, and I knew I was going to get a headache right away. I clapped my hands to grab the attention of the crowd. Our lovely security guard, Greg, helped bring the room to silence.
"I know you're all excited to see Santa Clause. Unfortunately, he is dealing with some air traffic, so he's running late."
"Aren't you too tall to be an elf?" a child yelled from the crowd.
I bit my lower lip to avoid snapping back at the child, "Elves come in all shapes and sizes. Santa will be here shortly."
I walked back to the back of the store, "I hate kids." I whispered to myself.
My supervisor met me outside the closet. "Santa is here. He's in the closet changing," the radio went off on his hip, requesting his services, "I'll come check on you, gotta go!"
I opened the door to the closet and saw a nearly naked man. His shirt was off, and his back was turned to me, "Who are you?" I said.
The guy noticed my presence and turned around. He was chiseled from the neck down. The man was hot, but what was he doing here?
"Oh, I'm Rohan. Your Santa Claus." he flashed his sea-blue eyes.
I shook my head, wondering if I was dreaming. "Are you sure you're at the right place? You look like a Santa Claus that would be stripping his clothes on a candy cane pole."
Rohan laughed, "No, I don't do that stuff. I am your Santa."
"Santa is supposed to be old and fat, not young and hot."
"And Elves are supposed to be short, but here you are being a fucking Giraffe,"
Before I could offer a retort, Rohan removed his shoes and pulled down his basketball shorts. I quickly looked away. The man was butt naked, "Why don't you have underwear on?"
"I got called at the last minute, barely got to shower, and I didn't have any clean clothes. Okay? Sorry."
My heart began to beat faster. A hot, naked man was in the closet with me. My Santa Claus was a hot 20-year-old. "Well, can you put something on? I don't think you want your jingle bells to be visible?"
When I looked back, Rohan had his shorts covering his crotch, "Well, I don't have anything to wear underneath. If I keep the shorts on, I will die of heat."
"I feel you on the heat death part; this outfit isn't breathable. Perhaps there is some underwear in the return bins."
I walked past him to the clothes pile. I looked through it and found a single pair of underwear and walked back to him, "I hope you're a medium."
Rohan dropped his shorts, and I caught a glimpse of his cock before turning away. I had to admit, it was hot. The guy was hung. I was glad I was having him put on underwear.
Rohan put on the underwear, which were a pair of red briefs with a green trim. In the crotch was a picture of Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer. The tip of Rohan's cock pressed against the fabric of Rudolph's red nose. I hadn't realized that was the underwear I had pulled out for him. I grabbed whatever seemed like underwear and looked at the price tag for the size. I didn't even know we sold sexy holiday underwear like that.
"Uh, not really my thing," Rohan said.
My jaw was open, and I gulped. The snug underwear could barely handle his large package. The view alone was sending blood to my crotch. I cleared my throat, "Well, it's either that or a pair of woman's panties. Would you like that instead?"
Rohan shook his head, "No, thank you," and he turned around to grab something from his bag. The soft fabric of the underwear hugged his toned butt cheeks. The view was amazing. It felt like I was dreaming. I pinched myself to check if it was one.
He caught me looking at him, "Are you going to be a creep? I'm here to be Santa, not you." he said.
"Sorry, I just..." my voice trailed off.
Rohan pulled out a top that had a belly, "Wait, you're going to wear that?" I said.
He pulled the costume over his stomach, "Yeah, you think all Santas are fat? Stephen is built like an Ox."
My eyes widened from the fact, "Stephen isn't fat?"
"No," Rohan said, pulling out his phone and showing me a picture of him and Stephen at the gym, "We work out together. He wears the fake belly, too."
"Is his beard fake, too?"
