Where does Santa get his toys?

Written by Personalias, story and illustration by me
 
****************************************************************************

(Presently)

A bitter chill wind made Melissa shudder in her sleep. “Five more minutes, Daddy” she slurred and stirred. As she shifted on her lumpy mattress Melissa heard a gentle crackling sound, like the sound of dried leaves and old popcorn being stepped on. The logical side of her mind (what little there was of it) made a note but sleep still was winning out over consciousness.

Jaegermeister had that effect on her most times.

Sadly for her beauty rest, the chill had gotten into her right down to the bones. She wasn’t ready to wake up, but her groggy and hungover body wouldn’t go back to sleep no matter how hard she tried. Her eyes opened slowly, not to the familiar eggshell white ceiling of her one bedroom apartment, but to a periwinkle sky.

Maybe it wasn’t the sky, she thought dimly, perhaps her vision was still blurred from last night’s escapades. It still wasn’t home.

She was already forgetting the wild dreams that had danced all night in her subconscious.

Something about hair and horns. She blinked a few more times and flashes of coarse brown fur, echoes of hoofbeats, and a lingering scent of animal music made their trespass in her mind known just before the final traces of the feverish fantasy left her.

Funnily enough, the first coherent thought that she could voice was, “Did I go streaking in the zoo again?”

Either from thinking that she might still be dreaming or because this wasn’t the first time she’d woken up somewhere she didn’t recognize, panic did not come to Melissa. A tired groan instead of a shrill shriek escaped her mouth while she pushed herself up off the mattress.

There was no mattress, though. She’d been sleeping on the ground. Instead of dirty, though, Melissa brushed her arms off and found that she was merely dusty. Except ‘dusty’ didn’t feel like the right word either. Squinting and with her eyes still blurry, Melissa picked herself up and tried to process exactly where she was.

The ground beneath her feet was the color of freshly fallen snow. It felt soft and slightly spongy, with just enough give to where a body would only doubt their balance if they thought about it too much. Melissa took a few extra steps and proved herself right, leaving dainty footprints behind her.

“Snow?” she said to herself. It wasn’t cold however. And in between her thumb and forefingers, the grainy particulate fell slowly in tiny little motes; lacking even the mass of crystalized water droplets. She looked down at the trail she’d made and noticed her footprints were already disappearing. Bits of white particulate were being gently blown into the shoe sized tracks, but there was more to it than that.

The ground was rising up, too. The indentations her weight was leaving were being slowly and subtly undone in a matter of seconds. Experimentally, the young woman walked a few steps backwards and watched as each step left a footprint in the room temperature snow, only for the evidence to disappear amidst the stiff yet squishy ground and an air conditioner strength wind.

“Styrofoam?” Melissa puzzled. “The ground is made of styrofoam?”

She looked up and all around to try to make sense of the impossible scenario that she found herself in. There were no clouds but the ground was covered in fake snow. There was no sun, but somehow she could see perfectly. The horizon only showed flat looking triangular mountains in all directions. It was like she was on the set of a third rate elementary school play.

Speaking of which, the apt comparison was likely drawn by a subconscious connection to her current state of dress. Looking down at herself, Melissa scoffed at what she’d woken up wearing. She had on a bubblegum pink jumper that stopped at her thighs and pink and white striped knee-high that tried and failed to make up the difference. The white undershirt had little frills on the short sleeves and her pink velcro sneakers lit up when she stepped.

Her hands wandered up to the top of her head where she felt two pigtails sprouting up and drooping to either side. Without the benefit of a mirror Melissa imagined herself and realized she must look like somebody’s idea of a kindergartener.

“What pervert dressed me up like this?” She asked herself. “Where the fuck am I?”

**********************************************************************************

(A few days ago)

“Melissa!” Paige shouted. “What the fuck?!”

Melissa looked up from her phone. She hated having her brunch interrupted, but was well practiced in politeness. “Hi Paige, what’s up?”

“Where the fuck were you?” Paige demanded.

“You’re gonna have to be more specific, babe.” Melissa replied non-chalantloy.

Paige had started off fuming and Melissa’s nonchalance was only stoking the fires. “My parrot is dead! That’s what’s up!”

Melissa looked back down at her phone. “Oh. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“You were supposed to feed him, you asshole!”

Melissa inhaled through her nose and kept scrolling through Twitter. Some people didn’t know how to take a hint. “I did,” she lied.

“No you didn’t!” Paige shrieked. “I came home and found him and all of my plants dead! You were supposed to apartment sit for me while I was taking care of my mother!”

Melissa shrugged. “Oh yeah? How is she by the way?”

“She was in hospice! She’s dead!”

Melissa grabbed her third (fourth?) mimosa and downed it all in one gulp. “That’s a bummer.I’m sorry for your loss.” The tipsy feeling she got as the champagne flooded her blood stream made Paige’s bullshit a bit more tolerable.

Paige was on the verge of tears. “I just asked one thing of you! I only needed one thing!”

‘Yeah,” Melissa admitted. “But your apartment is way on the other side of town...and that bird was really loud. And it just got to be a hassle and you know how things are right now with the price of gas and stuff.” She gave a half hearted shrug. “So I stopped going after a couple days.”

“You texted me! You said everything was fine!”

Melissa got up out of her seat and jumped the railing separating the cozy little bistro where she’d stopped to eat from the sidewalk. “Well yeah,” she said. “Texting you was super easy.”

Paige started being overdramatic again. “You lied to me and killed my bird!”

Two could play this game. “No, Paige.” Melissa said. “I was being a good friend! With everything you were going through, I didn’t want you to suffer!” Like a pro, tears started rolling down

Melissa’s cheeks. “So I softened the blow because I didn’t want you to worry! But if you can’t see that for what it is...MAYBE WE SHOULDN’T BE FRIENDS ANYMORE!”

With that Melissa stomped off on down the sidewalk before a dumbstruck Paige could find her words or the faceless waiter at the bistro could give her the bill. Just for added effect, she looked over her shoulder and yelled “MERRY CHRISTMAS!”

**************************************************************************************************

(Presently)

Melissa trudged through the fake snow and well into the fake mountains. Walking on styrofoam was harder after a while. It was kind of like running on a trampoline that wouldn’t bounce. There was no such thing as sure footed and every step had a kind of herky jerky waddle to it.

She wasn’t an animation buff, but the way she moved kind of reminded her of those old Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer cartoons that played every year on the T.V. channels that were too crappy to show anything other than reruns.

It wasn’t just the ground that did it either. Something felt off about the way she moved. There wasn’t any pain, but her joints felt stiff and weak. It was like someone had doped her up on anesthetic and then injected pure adrenaline into her heart to counter balance it. Actually, that might be kind of cool.

Her gait was particularly off; wider than she was used to. She couldn’t roll her feet in these shoes and her legs refused to cross each other for some reason. Also, where was that crinkling sound coming from? It wasn’t the ground. After an hour or so of forced marching, she experimented and tried punching the ground, but that crinkling sound only happened when she took a step. It was like she was walking around with a plastic grocery bag in her pockets.

Correction: This stupid dress didn’t have any pockets.

She tried to keep her mind busy by undoing her pigtails, but a sadist had designed the hair clips that had kept her raven locks bundled up. The ribbons wouldn’t come untied and every time she tried to slide them off her hand would slip and she just ended up tugging on her scalp.

She was experiencing similar problems with the rest of her clothes. Every time she even thought about tugging the jumper up over her head, her arms would get all stupid and the dress would practically attach itself to her body. The inside of her socks were like fly paper. She’d love to wander this place in the buff, just to get a rise out of whoever dressed her up this way, but she didn’t have that luxury.

She took a small amount of comfort knowing that her hair was still its natural black. Everytime she swung her head around, she was able to confirm it. Somebody had drugged her, dragged her unconscious body here, dressed her like an idiot and left her in this strange place.

Bleaching her hair blonde like a Kewpie doll wouldn’t have been out of the question. At long last, Melissa saw something in the distance that wasn’t periwinkle sky, styrofoam snow, or cardboard mountain. Down at the bottom of a sloping incline, like an oasis in the middle of a desert, Melissa spied what appeared to be signs of civilization.

Walls! And just over the walls were buildings! And where there were buildings, there’d be people!

People!

Safety!

Rescue!

Entertainment!

“Oh fuck yes!” She shouted, and broke out into a run. “Please don’t be a mirage! Please don’t be a mirage!” Were mirages even a thing outside the desert? Melissa didn’t know and didn’t care. “Please don’t be a mirage!”

The path was deceptively steep however, and Melissa’s strides weren’t as steady as they normally were. About two dozen or so sprinting strides into it, Melissa tripped over her feet and was sent end over end, ass over tea kettle. Like a contestant on a Japanese game show, Melissa tumbled and thumped all the way down to the bottom of the tiny valley.

If the ground had been made of sterner stuff, she would have broken her neck, not to mention mangled her arms, legs and spine. As things stood, the experience was more akin to that time she got drunk and lost her virginity in a bounce house: It wasn’t very fun, she didn’t know what she was doing and would ache in places she didn’t know existed when she woke up, but she’d survive.

That would have been her assessment all the way down until...

THUNK!

“Fuuuuuuuck,” she moaned as something heavy and decidedly wooden collided with her forehead. Someone, gravity specifically, had taken her head and used it as a battering ram.

Much like how she started the day, Melissa was ending hers on her back, spread eagle, and passed the fuck out. Through hazy, probably concussed vision, Melissa was able to make out the giant red letter “A” carved and painted into the wall that had so rudely introduced itself to her.


That was weird. The entire wall seemed to be squared off into lettered sections. The entire perimeter was made of massive building blocks. She must have hit her head harder than she thought.

Weirder still, Melissa’s panties felt heavier all of a sudden. Wetter and mushier, too. All of that fake snow must have found its way into her panties during her tumble down.There was something that didn’t add up about that, but her head hurt too much to figure it out.

Time to close her eyes again. Maybe she’d wake up somewhere better. Just before she passed out, a funny little man with a jester’s cap appeared looking over her.

“Hey baby doll,” he asked. “You okay?”

************************************************************************************************

(Years ago)

Melissa huffed in the ER’s waiting room. “This is so not fair,” she said. A withering glare from her mother was all that was needed to shut her up. Her form sunk down in the chair but her indignation did not. Why did she have to be here? It’s not like she could do anything to help the situation. Her stupid parents were just irrationally wanting to punish her and make her suffer so they could feel better about themselves.

A set of double doors opened and a positively exhausted Dad came out, wiping gallons of sweat and tears from his face. “How is he?”

“They’ve had to pump his stomach and hook him up to an I.V. but he’s breathing on his own and the toxicology reports are coming back good. He’s gonna need a couple days but he’ll be fine.”

Mom didn’t say anything, just jumped up and wrapped her arms around Dad and started crying.

“Cool,” Melissa said. “Can we go home now?”

“Sit your butt back down, young lady!” Dad growled.

Smart enough to hear a threat when she heard it, Melissa obeyed.

“Your little brother is in here because of you,” Mom scolded.

Melissa averted her eyes, but let still let out, “I didn’t tell him to take those pills.”

THWACK!

Mom’s hand left a stinging imprint across Melissa’s cheek before she could react. “You were supposed to be watching him!”

“I was watching him,” Melissa insisted. She rubbed the side of her face and flashed her big puppy dog eyes. That always worked on them. “You wanted me to include him in more stuff. So I included him. I was just trying to be a good big sister.”

“You were supposed to be babysitting,” Dad hissed angrily. “Not throwing a rager! If the neighbors hadn’t called us, he might be choking on his own vomit right now.”

Melissa knew better than to say anything. Not because of guilt, but because she knew her parents weren’t in the right mind to listen to her. Things were so much simpler when she was  an only child. Then Mom and dad had to have their little ‘miracle baby’ just before menopause kicked in.

Some miracle...

*******************************************************************************************************

(Presently)

Recent history repeated itself when Melissa opened her eyes. Again, surrounded by all white, on a soft sunken surface that enveloped her body. “Great,” she said to herself. “Juuuust great.”

Whatever idiot dingus had found her lying in the styro-snow, he’d seen fit drag her back out into the middle of literally nowhere.

Oh well, time to get going again. With a heaving grunt, Melissa swung one leg over the other...

And plummeted down to the carpeted floor beneath her. The fall wasn’t very far. Relative to where she started, it wasn’t any worse than rolling off the top of a bunk bed. But it still hurt like hell and knocked the wind out of Melissa.

Like in the cartoons, stars circled round Melissa’s head and gently tinkling music wafted in around her ears. A few seconds of allowing the throbbing go down made her realize that the stars were from up above her, dangling overhead by a mobile. The soft tinkling music was likewise in more than just her head.

“Oooooooh,” Melissa groaned, rubbing her head. “What hit me?” She sat straight up and frowned. Something with the consistency of oatmeal mushed beneath her bottom. It had been a long long time since Melissa had gone through potty training; she couldn’t even remember it.

Not even on her wildest binges had Melissa gotten to the point where she’d outright crapped herself. There was just something so basic, so primal, about the feeling of having poop in her pants that she recognized it instantly.

“Watch that first step, baby doll. It’s a doozy!”

Melissa wobbled to her feet, blushing profusely. Self-consciously, she tugged down on the hem of her jumper, trying to cover up her ruined panties all while looking around as menacingly as she could. Her pigtails were practically helicopter blades while she tossed and turned her head searching for the source of the voice. “Who said that?”

“I did,” came the voice from beside her.

She turned around. “Aha!” Another stupid, brightly colored tin box was beside her. She continued to search, leaning this way and that; wincing as every step made the mass in her panties slosh around.

She was in some kind of playroom, or nursery, albeit an enormous one. The ‘top bunk’ she’d tumbled out of was a gigantic wooden cradle that she wouldn’t be able to get back in without a ladder. The tinkling music sound was coming from a porcelain ballerina almost as big as Melissa- spinning slowly around on a pedestal. Stuffed animals big enough to double as sex dolls sat at tea parties with kettles big enough to drown in. This was definitely a little girl’s room.

It was a sucky little girl’s room, though. The nursery wallpaper was colored light blue with rose carousel horses, but only where it wasn’t peeling off and revealing the yellowed walls. The carpet she was standing on it was too many different shades of brown to make Melissa comfortable, and was threadbare in portions, brittle in others, crusty in still more, and just plain droopy and sad the rest of everywhere else. Far above the mobile Melissa had taken for a sign of brain damage (best not to rule that out just yet), a ceiling fan stirred and chopped the air but there was still an uncomfortable wetness about the air.

“Where are you?” Melissa called out. She resisted the urge to say ‘Show yourself’. Who talked that?

“Right here, baby doll!”

It was coming right from the stupid box, but she didn’t see anyone. And it was coming through so crystal clear, that she very much doubted it was coming from inside. Hands tugging at her jumper she paced the perimeter of the box. “Where?” Melissa asked again. “And don’t call me baby-!”

BOING!

Up, up, up from the box sprang a monstrosity! An abomination! A giant armed serpent with accordion flesh struck and wrapped it’s hands around Melissa’s waist, yanking her up off the floor towards its terrible human head.

“DOLLLL!” Melissa screamed at the top of her lungs.

“Hawhawahwahawhawhawhaaaaa!” The monster cackled, giggling at her terror. The bells on its stupid hat jingling as it bobbed from side to side.

“Charlie,” another voice called. “Put the poor thing down!”

“Alright, alright,” the strange monster clicked his tongue. “I was just having a little fun.” Melissa was set back down so quickly that she lost her balance and fell straight back onto her mushy bottom. The corners of her mouth felt like they couldn’t tug any harder towards the ground. Her face felt like it couldn’t get any hotter from sheer humiliation. Tears leaked out and dribbled down the young woman’s cheeks. “Whoops! Sorry about that, baby doll.”

Melissa balled up her fist and kicked her heels against the carpet. “STOP CALLING ME BABY DOLL!” Okay, that wasn’t exactly helping her case.

“Now, now, Charlie,” the other voice said. It sounded like a little old lady’s. “How would you like it if people called you ‘Jack’ all the time?”

“I’d do more than just yell about how I’m not jack,” the monster quipped.

“Jack?” Melissa said, cocking her head to the side. The gears in Melissa’s mind were finally starting to properly spin. “You’re a Jack-In-The-box.”

“Ding-ding-ding!” The mammoth toy. “Give the new girl a prize! Maybe a nice new herself!”

“Charlie,” the old woman’s voice warned, “Quit picking on the baby or the next time you go back into your box I’m taking your crank.”

“Okay, okay,” the Jack-In-The-Box rolled his eyes. “Ruin all the fun.”

Melissa’s nose wrinkled and she wiped away her few tears. Strange or not, she was not going to be talked down to like this. But just as she inhaled to draw breath the source of the old woman’s voice revealed itself.

Coming round the massive tin box was what could most charitably be described as an old woman. White hair done up in a tight bun, pinkish peach skin, wrinkled squints for eyes and round nose, with a dark green dress that went all the way down to the floor. She looked something like Mrs. Claus by way of Mr. Magoo.

Looking at her for more than a glance revealed the uncanny valley nature of the woman’s existence. At no point did her skin go beneath the dark green dress she wore, because she wasn’t really wearing it. Her entire being from top to bottom was made of tightly knitted wool fabric. Every wrinkle in her skin was the same stuff as her dress and hair.

Her vaguely caucasian flesh colored neck simply changed to the dark green gown that made up the majority of her form with the mitten-like hands being the only exception below the neck. Shedidn’t have feet that Melissa could see, just a dress that shuffled along like a thousand tiny snails dragging her across the floor at a doddering pace. Every fiber of this entity’s being was made out of...well...fibers!

“Hello, dearie,” the knitted woman said. “What’s your name?”

Terrified, but also under the increasing belief that she was probably still unconscious, the girl chose to answer. “Melissa...” she squeaked.

“Melissa!” the old woman-thing said. “That’s a lovely name! Such a pretty name for a pretty girl!

A soft wool hand reached out to the girl. “Come on now, stand up. You’re not hurt.” Melissa took it and was surprised by the strength in that bit of wool and fluff. “That’s right. Up you go. Steady now. Good girl”

“Thank...you?” Melissa said. Despite herself, she found the gentle praise and compliments on her looks soothing. She was so taken aback taht she forgot to pull the jumper down over her sagging panties.

“You’re welcome, dearie.” The old woman looked toward the Jack-In-The-Box. “See Charlie? You don’t have to be rude.” She slither-glided around in a pivot. “That goes for the rest of you. No need to be rude!”

All at once, the contents of the room leaped into motion. Teddy bears grabbed their cups and raised them in a toast. The porcelain ballerina stopped slowly spinning on her pedestal, stopping the tinkling music. She stretched and moaned the aches away. Calls of ‘Hello’ and ‘Hi’ sounded out through the nursery as dolls- rag, Barbie, and a few nesting- crowded around her.

“Granny Munch,” The lead doll introduced herself. “Pleasure to meet you, Melissa dearie.”

“Toys!” Melissa gasped. “You’re all giant, living toys!”

The grandmotherly knit doll, took Melissa by the hand. “About that, dearie. You’re about thirty eight percent correct with that statement.” She lead Melissa over to a mirror that was tall enough for two elephants standing atop one another. “We are all living toys, that’s true, but we’re not giant."

“You look giant to me,” Melissa said. Everything in the room was giant.

The granny doll shoved Melissa in front of the mirror. What Melissa saw in her reflection almost broke her. She still looked like herself, still recognized who she was, but she wasn’t how she remembered herself.

All the little imperfections in her body had been waxed and shaved away. She was thinner here; curvier there. Her breasts were slightly smaller than they were supposed to be, and impossibly perky. All of the proportions were just...off. It was what an eight year old thought an eighteen year old would look like; both an adult and a child at the same time Youthful in the eyes and facial structure, but curvy in the hips and flat in the tummy. Nothing short of plastic surgery could achieve this look.

With new eyes, Melissa saw how smooth and shiny her skin had become, like plastic. Her dark hair had that synthetic wig quality that prevented fraying at the ends but still allowed for brushing. She gaped at her arms and wrists seeing the individual points of articulation along the joints. Same for her knees beneath the striped socks.

“I’m a doll?!” How did she not notice this?

“Not just any doll...” the Jack-In-The-Box sounded off.

“Charlie!”

“Sorry...”:

The Jackass-In-The-Box was right, though. Melissa wasn’t just any doll. Hair up in pigtails. Socks up to her knees with velcro fastening sneakers and a very short pink jumper with a frilly white undershirt. Peeking out from the bottom of her dress, sagging so that it could be seen no matter how hard she tugged down on her dress, was a crinkly, disposable diaper.

“Like I said, Melissa, dearie. We’re all toys, here.”

“I’m...I’m...I’m...”

*************************************************************************************************

(Many, many, many Christmases ago.)

“Oh wow!” Missy said. “Mom! Dad! Look what Santa brung me!” She held up the box the way big game hunters held up a fresh trophy.

Mom squinted down at it. “A...Crybaby Co-Ed?”

“Uh-huh!’ Missy said. “They go to college and wear all the latest fashions, but they’re also babies that you gotta take care of! Isn’t it cool?”

Mom gave a confused look to Dad. Dad just shrugged. “Huh. What will they think of next?”

Still in elementary school, Missy wasn’t done rattling off everything three months of commercials had taught her. “This one is Peepee Kiki! She wets and messes and burps, and drinks iced coffee from her ba-ba while majoring in liberal arts!”

Mom adjusted her bathrobe, clearly uncomfortable. Missy didn’t know it at the time, but she’d been a liberal arts major in college. “I had some baby dolls too when I was growing up,” she said. “Does this one at least come with a potty or something?’

“Nope,” Missy said, almost proudly. “Studying and shopping are too important for potty breaks!”

The little girl ripped open up another box. “Cool! Santa got me a whole box of dolly diapers and ba-ba mix!

“So,” Mom said to dad. “Santa gave her a dolly that both sexualizes and infantilizes women at the same time?”

“You think?” Dad said. “She’s a baby, but at least she’s going to college. That’s like, a role model, right? It took a second for Dad to realize something. “Wait. Do you think I got this for her?

“Who else would?” Mom asked.

“Santa?”

“We will talk about this later,” Mom said to Dad. Then she called her daughter out of her haze.

“Missy? Melissa?”

The child snapped her head up from opening up another package full of doll accessories that weren’t quite babyish. When her Mom used her full name, she knew to pay attention. “Are you sure you don’t want another doll?”

Missy clutched the doll to her chest as if it were her very own child. “No! I want this one! I’m gonna take care of her forever and ever! You’ll see! I’ll feed her and change her and burp her and take her everywhere I go!”

Mom didn’t look convinced. “Are you sure, honey? I didn’t think you’d like a doll with so much...responsibility.

“It’s mine!” Missy had said with absolute conviction in her eyes.

And true to her word, Missy took that doll with her everywhere. She loved it and played with it like it was her own child.

For about a month...

She made it a record three weeks before she got bored and lost the stupid hunk of plastic under her bed. She hadn’t even run out of play diapers or bottle mix. That could be forgiven, however. Children are often easily distracted, quick to commit, and slow to follow-through. Most grow out of that impulsiveness and inability to care for anything but their own immediate needs.

Most...

Anyways, it was only a doll...

.***********************************************************************

(Presently)

“I’m a Crybaby Co-Ed?’ Melissa said, staring at herself in the mirror. “They still make these?”

“Evidently,” Charlie said, bouncing on his spring. “So...you poop your pants, but at least your kind of hot.”

“Get bent!” Melissa said. She stomped her sneakered foot for emphasis and felt the back of her diaper jiggle with it. That sent a chill up Melissa’s plastic spine. “Why am I? A Crybaby Co-Ed?” she asked. “Why am I a doll?”

“Let’s get you changed and sorted out, first, dearie” the green knitted granny said, shuffle-sliding up behind her. “You can’t get a rash, but I have to think that full nappy is bothersome.”

Hearing it all said out loud like that was a deeper cut than Melissa could handle at that moment in time. “Oh...okay.”

Some teddy bears dragged a very large pink and white striped diaper bag over to the mirror. A pair of barbies pulled out a privacy divider. Melissa had seen that kind of diaper bag before and knew what it was likely filled with. She’d toted one around diligently once upon a time. She’d felt like a real Mommy, a grown-up, carrying that thing and her baby doll around; or hanging it off the back of the toy stroller.

That was until she got tired of always having her hands full and instead of packing more diapers in it, she stuffed the dolly inside.

“Lay down for me dear,” Granny said. “Let’s get you out of your own mess.”

Obediently, Melissa laid down, feeling like a patient about to go under for surgery while the ringleader of this place dug out a fresh diaper and a washcloth. Wanting to help, Melissa tried to lift the hem of her dress up, but the second the thought occurred to her, her hands became possessed with tremendous weight. “Why can’t I fix my clothes?”

Granny slid over and gently yanked the hem of the dress up over Melissa’s belly button. It added a whole new level of bizarre to this situation. Melissa was slightly taller than the ringleader of this place, and body was made of sterner stuff than cotton and wool, yet the old woman had next to no trouble undressing her enough to access her diaper.

Melissa found a pacifier jammed into her mouth. “No talking dearie. Let Granny work.” Rather than spit it out, Melissa couldn’t help but suckle it, her lips rhythmically pulsating and pulling on the dummy. She was...pacified, not even bothered by the audible and cartoonish suckling sounds that were coming out of her mouth.

“Fix your clothes,” The elder doll chuckled. She ripped the tapes off of Melissa’s diaper.

“Wouldn’t be much of a baby doll if you could take care of yourself.”

Melissa lifted her head and watched her legs get scooped up. A warm, dry washcloth was moved cross her rear. “The best part about baby dolls is even when they wet and mess they’re nowhere near as hard to clean up as regular babies,” Granny said. The new baby doll wanted to say something, but found it impossible to pop the pacifier out of her mouth. Moreover the idea of losing her pacifier caused her considerable distress. It would be like losing a part of herself.

The diaper was slid out from under her and she watched the knitted figured ball it up with just her mitten hands. Even more surprising was how easily the replacement diaper was unfolded and slid underneath. “Almost done, almost done,” Granny said as if she were tutting over a fussy baby. It wasn’t until then that she heard herself mewling over her pacifier.

Melissa actually felt herself sighing in relief as the new diaper was pulled up over her and then taped snugly. It was like she wanted to be wearing the diaper, looking like an idiot, filling her pants uncontrollably.

“Good baby,” Granny said, offering her hand once again to help Melissa to her feet . “You did a good job. Not too fussy to be annoying, but not too quiet to be forgotten.”

Melissa blushed and then pointed to her pacifier. She was still suckling on it and had no idea how (or if she wanted) to spit it out.

“Oh, that.” Granny said. “Let me help, let me help.” The pacifier had a thin cord attached to it and circled around like a necklace. Granny tossed the loop over Melissa’s head, and then yanked the pacifier out.

“Thank you,” Melissa said. She was grateful, not only to have her ability to talk back, but also because the pacifier was still close by. Her brain had instantly made an attachment to the object. She shuddered again at that internal inventory. Diaper changes? Pacifiers? She was drawing far too much comfort from all of this. That and the fact that in lieu of joints she had points of articulation. “What’s happening to me?”

“Let’s walk and talk,” Granny said, taking her hand. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Melissa furrowed her brow and thought, but everything was a blank. “Brown...?” she said.

“Lots of dirty brown...”

“That’s what a lot of us remember at first,” Granny Munch replied. “You probably remember something that smelled like a petting zoo.”

Melissa allowed herself to be led to the other end of the nursery, closer and closer to a door.

“Yeah! How did you...?” For the first time in a long time, Melissa thought of someone other than herself. “Holy shit!” she exclaimed. “You used to be human, too!”

“All of us did, dearie,” Granny said.

Holding the other doll’s hand Melissa waddled out past the threshold. “All of us?”

Out past the threshold of that first door, Melissa finally understood. There was more than just the little girl’s nursery she’d woken up in. Past the threshold, there was styrofoam ground and snow with coal cobblestone roads. Up above was the same periwinkle sky with the cardboard mountains forever in the distance. Giant buildings loomed all around made up of playset plastic, swing set steel, and courtyard concrete. Smaller, more to scale structures made up of tinker toys, legos, linkin’ logs and dried play-doh dotted the landscape as far as the eye could see.

And all along on those coal cobblestone streets, marched every conceivable toy going about its
business.

“Welcome to Krampus Town,” Granny Munch said. “The Lost Land of Misfit Toys.”

***********************************************************************

(Very Recently...)

“Hey Dad,” Melissa practiced in her bedroom mirror. “So here’s the thing. I am currently out of funds and would like to be able to buy the rest of the family Christmas gifts.” Melissa paused and wrinkled her nose. “Naw that won’t work. Too obvious.” That and she’d need to go out and buy stuff for her family if she asked for it that way.

“Hey Dad,” she tried again. “Oh, I’m good. How are you holding up?” She paused and practiced a few “Mhm’s”. “So,” she said, to the mirror, making sure her face was perfect and still; complete sincerity. “I’ve got an interesting educational opportunity, but it requires a financial investment.”

That might work better. Easier to spend money and pretend she was taking a seminar or something. But what would she be learning? To sound convincing she might have to actually study something. That made her shiver.

On a lark, Melissa held grabbed her hair into two bunches and propped them up on her head like pigtails. “Daddy....can I have some money pwease...” She laughed at herself and let her hair back down. “That...probably won’t work.”

Maybe if she was still an only child, she could pull the ‘little girl’ card, but her brother had dashed that gambit long before it occurred to her to use it. At least Mom was dead. She could always see through Melissa’s bullshit easier than he could. Maybe her little brother had some money to spare...

The sound of dishes shattering breaking and an animalistic yowl drew her attention.

“Fucking cat,” Melissa muttered to herself. Her boyfriend should just put that damn thing to sleep. Actually, he was her ex-boyfriend. He just didn’t know it yet.

She flung open the bedroom door and stomped out into the main area. “Goddamnit, Boots!” She screamed. “I am not cleaning this-!”

Melissa froze as soon as she stepped out into the main living room. The door had been busted open; kicked down to the point of splintering. How had she not heard that? There was no more time for questions, unfortunately.

The last thing she heard before the sack was pulled over her head was the braying of an animal. It almost sounded like a goat trying to speak. “NAAAAAAAUGHTY!” The last thing Melissa felt before passing out was the feeling of urine trickling down her leg.

****************************************************************************

(Presently...)

Melissa waddled out into the street, using Granny Munch’s hand for balance. Even on the coals, it was hard to walk, making her think it was more than just the firmness of the ground or the stiffness of her joints. Babies weren’t terribly good at walking, so why would their dolls be?

“Everyone here in Krampus Town used to be someone,” Granny explained. “But we all did something to grab the wrong kind of attention.”

“Krampus?” Melissa puzzled. “Isn’t that a horror movie, or something? The monster that throws kids into his sack or something?”

“Oh, it’s not just a movie or a scary story, dearie. It’s quite real.” She took her arm and made a wide gesture to the scene of sentient toys milling about. “Every one of us lived lives that got that old goat’s attention and he threw us in his sack, turning us into playthings for his amusement; twisting us into whimsical representations of our greatest sins and weaknesses.”

“Uh huh...” Melissa said, unenthusiastically. “Very interesting.” Already her mind was thinking about a baby bottle of iced mocha and how good that would taste. That both thrilled and disturbed her. “Why am I a baby doll?”

Granny pointed to some green plastic army men. “Those boys found that wartime suited them better than civilian life and couldn’t go back.”

“Mmhmm...why am I a baby doll?”

“Those wind up toys are all drug addicts, needing an outside source to move them around.”

“Neat. But let’s talk about m-”

“Charlie?” Granny droned on. “He’s bitter about it, but well...one doesn’t become a jack in the box by not being addicted to pornography.”

Mellissa dug her heels in. “Okay. First off, gross. Second off, why am I a baby?”

Granny regarded her for a moment and smiled. “Because you’re an unrepentant and selfish drain on everyone, I’d suspect.”

The girl froze and her jaw dropped. Something else dropped into her diaper as well. “What did you say?”

“Just an educated guess, dearie.” Granny Much replied. “Most baby dolls that end up here are completely and utterly selfish. They want to be fed, loved, adored, and looked after without giving back anything; always having someone clean up their messes for them.” She let out a dry chuckle. “The Krampus just makes it more literal.”

“How do I get back to normal?” Melissa asked.

“That’s the neat part,” Granny said. “You don’t. You’re stuck like this in whatever excuse for a purgatory this place is with the rest of us.” She started guiding Melissa back into the nursery.

“Now come along, dear. Granny thinks you could use a nice bottle and a nap. I do so love taking care baby dolls.”

That did sound nice...

But a bottle and a nap felt like losing. And Melissa hated losing! “Wait a second,” she said. “If Krampus is real, does that mean that Santa is too?”

Considering that her eyes were nothing but stitched in squints, it was really impressive how shocked the elderly looking doll seemed. “Shhhh!” She hissed. “We don’t say that name in Krampus Town. That might make him show up.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to do that?” An almost manic smile lit up Melissa’s face. “No! This is a great! Santa’s like, the enemy of the Krampus, right? The opposite! He can fix this! He’ll realize there’s been a mistake or something! Or he’ll give me a second chance.”

“No, dearie,” Granny Munch whispered. “You’ve got it all wrong. We’re hiding from...him. Where do you think he gets his toys from?”

“Pfft...a workshop.” Melissa answered. “At the North Pole. With Elves.”

Granny was shaking her head furiously. “Your silly little baby doll brain isn’t thinking things through. Come back to the nursery. Have a ba-ba and a nap. That’ll make you feel so much better.”

A dark bit of trivia flashed into the front of Melissa’s brain. “Granny Munch. Do you know what Munchausen’s by Proxy is? Where an adult keeps their child sick and makes things up so that they can pretend to be a hero by taking care of them?”

Granny answered a tad too quickly. “No, dearie. Haven’t the foggiest. Uh oh. I think someone needs another change already!”

Melissa narrowed her eyes. “Granny. What did the Krampus snatch you up for?”

“I...I...” Granny looked around nervously. “I just want to help you. To take care of you. Now come, let’s get you sorted-”

That settled it. “SANTA!” Melissa screamed at the top of her lungs. “SANTA! SANTA! SANTA! I WANNA TALK TO SANTA!”

The sound of sleigh bells sent every toy in sight scattering and hiding in the various makeshift buildings.

Every toy besides Melissa that is. Dark black boots crunched on fake snow. “HO! HO! HO!”

“Santa!” Melissa peered up at the massive old elf. “It’s good to see you. It’s me, Melissa! Remember? Anyway, this is a little embarrassing, but your arch enemy, the Krampus broke into my apartment- actually it was my ex-boyfriend’s apartment but I hadn’t broken up with him y-”

*****************************************************************************************************

(The Next Christmas Morning...)

“Oh wow!” Lizzie said. “Mommy! Look what Santa brung me!” She held up the box the way big game hunters held up a fresh trophy.

Mommy squinted down at it. “A Crybaby Co-Ed?” she said. “I remember those from when I was your age. They still make those?”

“Uh-huh!’ Lizzie said. “They go to college and wear all the latest fashions, but they’re also babies that you gotta take care of! Isn’t it cool?”

Mommy seemed to be thinking very hard about the doll. “I guess if Tamagotchis can make a comeback...”

Lizzie started lecturing her mother about everything she already knew about her latest present.

“This one is Messy Missy! She wets and messes and burps, and drinks iced coffee from her ba-ba! Her Major is something called ‘Undecided’!”

While Lizzie’s Mommy tried to remember who bought the doll along with all the accessories, and the little girl was busy liberating her new favorite toy from its clear plastic and pink cardboard packaging, Melissa was deeply hoping that she’d make it longer than three weeks before being shoved in a diaper bag and kicked under a bed.

“Oh cool! Look Mommy! She cries too!”