Our story, boys and girls, actually begins in the North Pole. Where hidden in the frozen tundras of the Arctic sat a quaint little village filled with cups of hot chocolate and Douglas firs, a place where every fireplace roared with life and every door had a piece of mistletoe. But the most important thing in this bustling town were not things at all, but people like you!

Now they called themselves “Santa's little elves”, but they are not elves at all! They do not in fact have pointy ears and squeaky voices to match their small stature, but all the makings of a man or woman. The only difference, of course, being... a few feet.

You see children, when Santa moved to the North Pole, he hadn't counted on one thing. The lack of arable land. Without land to farm and grow food, he needed to import staples, which was hard to bring to Santa's village with the weather and whatnot.

Yes, things were difficult as malnutrition became rampant and the stature of the “elves” grew shorter and shorter as newer generations went on. And as they grew shorter, it became harder and harder for Santa to accommodate for their needs. Stools, stepladders, height related accidents climbed higher and higher, production stagnated and eventually, Santa decided that something needed to be done.

When the end of a long hard week comes about, Santa takes a evening walk about his factory, heading to the back where few ever set foot in. And rising above the snowbanks is a blue windowed building, it's facade completely built of glass, the building itself built like a concave crescent, like a dome cut in half. It's shape and elegant appearance making it more of a modern addition to Santa's workshop.

This was Santa's research facility, where they look into all kinds of things involving magic and wonder and the impossible that a little Christmas cheer can do. A quaint, neat and clean little place where all the scholarly elves work tirelessly to make new inventions and gizmos and gadgets to make all the nerds in the world fill with joy. But in the back room, in the depths of the white-collar offices and the super computers and the lab coat laboratories sat an innocent enough office that belonged to no one. But should one press the false panel under the desk, a retina scanner would pop out of the wall in front of him or her. And should he or she be accepted by the computers security, a wall beside the desk would open up to a stairwell. And at the end of that stairwell was the door leading to the underground shelter Santa built in the 60's for use in the event of a nuclear war.

But since the nuclear fallout shelter didn't prove much use, in it was filled with books on the science of magic and devices that could channel and harness the said magic. But in this fallout shelter were two important things. Things that could change the face of Santa's Village and the people that lived in it forever! Well... maybe not things... but certainly a middle-aged “elf” by the name of Dr. Kanji Yamamoto and a couple shoes, one beautiful pair of handcrafted Italians and an extravagantly elegant pair of stilettos; black, with a simple but flourishing set of straps gliding up the ankle and a set of three lines of large midnight pearls going down the front, from the top the foot all the way to the elegantly tapered toes.

Dr. Yamamoto and his four other short-stature staff looked up in their enormous welding goggles as Santa walked in through the secret entrance way.

“Hey fellas!” Santa bustled down the stairway in his red overalls and white undershirt, his great nomadic muscles bulging beneath it. “I heard the great news! You guys are done?”

“Almost, sir!” the doctor said, placing his goggles on his forehead. “You've been working out sir?”

“Yup, it's that time again. Got to get ready for Christmas. Climbing up and down all those chimneys is a real pain in the ass if you're not physically prepared, you know?”

“I completely understand, sir.”

“Well then,” he said with a smile as big as a hammock, “what's left on the list?”

“The woman's pair need to be adjusted.”

“Is there something wrong with it?”

“No, no.” The doctor waved him off. “They're fine, their just not calibrated yet. We'll be finished by the end of next week after some testing.”

“Well, if that's all that needs to be done, that's great!” He grabbed Kanji by the shoulders and shook him gently, giving a hardy laugh. “Just image what you've managed to accomplish! By the end of this month, every person in this village will finally have the option to wear your shoes and be as tall as they want! No more step ladders! No more step stools! No more trouble replacing light bulbs or playing a full-sized instrument! You're going to help a lot of people.” Santa reached out and grabbed one of the Italian shoes, holding it in both hands, looking at it from every angle. “If your father was still alive he would just be so proud.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Oh! Well...” He quickly placed the shoe back on it's shelf and began ushering the staff towards the door. “It's time to head home isn't it? Stop by the bar. All the drinks are on me!”

Santa and Dr. Yamamoto were the last to leave.

“I ever tell you about the time your father's silly putty experiment got into the reindeer's feed?

When Dr. Yamamoto returned to work on Monday, he was greeted by the sent of alcohol hanging in the air. Mouth agape and completely horrified, he walked down the stairs to find the laboratory completely trashed. His precious equipment scattered and broken on the floor, a blowtorch drilling a hole into the concrete wall as it laid on it's side, running full blast. Odd sculptures made of metal wires littered the floor and half-empty bottles of vodka, gin and rum laid haphazardly on the tables. In front of him, carved into the entire length of concrete wall, was the shape of an enormous penis ejaculating. Tilting his flabbergasted head slightly, Dr. Yamamoto realized that the picture was from the “head on” perspective.

Looking at the white linoleum floor, he saw a pair of bare, hairy legs sticking out from behind one of the work stations. He carefully moved around the corner to see three of his assistants, Phil, Stu and Alan laying half naked on the ground.

“Hey!” Kanji screamed, jolting the three awake. “What-the-fuck happened here?”

“Oh, shit-” Phil moaned, holding his head in his hand. Phil and Stu took one look at the doctor's reddening face before freezing solid. Alan simply rolled around, trying to get comfortable.

“You three did all this?” He screamed, gesturing at the room in barely contained hysteria. Looking around the room, his eyes suddenly darted to the shoes.

Stu, beginning to see the destruction of the lab, seemed unable to speak, his eyes wide open, his breathing short and labored. Phil raised his shaking hands in defense. He spoke to the back of Kanji's head.

“Mr. Yamamoto, I-I know this looks bad... but we can explain.”

“Where are the shoes?” Kanji asked in a deadening hush. He didn't move a muscle.

“What?”

“The shoes,” Kanji said looking back at Phil, holding out a hand at where the shoes ought to be. “The experimental, lady's pair of shoes.” He swallowed hard, thinking of the shit Santa was going to flip.

Phil couldn't answer him.

Alan looked around, eyes half open, seeming as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

“Hey,” he said, his voice groggy. “Where's Doug?”

Maggie had no reason to be at the mall. She had done all her Christmas shopping done on black Friday, gotten the best deals on everything she bought and still had a few hundred left in her budget to put away in the bank. And on any normal year, she would have, but that “itch” sort of stuck with her. That thrill she had when the price get's knocked down, or when she found a bigger deal than the one she had planned. To her, there was no finish line, no end. Just a bunch of people with a lot of buttons to push. And a low-ball offer she always aimed for.

Her best deal was when she bought her first car. The used-car dealer was bald, heavy-set (and let's face it,) probably hasn't had hot sex in decades. The man was screaming for an affair with a long-legged, full-bodied woman with a light tan, an hourglass figure and D-cup breasts. The pair cost a small fortune to get her up from a B, but using them to clinch discounts, they certainly paid back crazy dividends. Especially with her almost-new 2010 Camaro V8. All for a slick $12,000.

But it wasn't the deals that got her, it was having that power. That power to make him want her and sacrifice for her. In a way unbeknownst to her, it was a way of putting a price on herself. But mostly it was fun as hell watching her victims squirm.

“12,000 is what I want.” She said with a honey sweet smile.

He laughed nervously, “I would love to, but my wife would try to kill me-”

“And you can tell me all about it if you survive.”

Maggie watched the fat bead of sweat travel down his neck.

“Alright, fine.” He sighed and Maggie sighed along with him. To be honest, she hated it when they caved. “You win. But you pay all of it now and in cash.”

“Of course!” She curled a sly smile.

And don't get her started on the car insurance.

So it felt sort of odd that she still had that uncomfortable feeling. It was a vague one certainly but she figured whatever she had could be fixed with a nice pair of stilettos.

The mall was crowded, full of people that had procrastinated their Christmas shopping, rushing to finish on the Eve. Maggie paid no attention to them, the crying of children, the bustle of agitated shoppers, the people crammed into every aisle. A few times she stopped and watched, but eventually she got to the apparel section and diverted her attention there. And after a few minutes walking about, surreptitiously observing the staff, Maggie knew who she needed to talk to.

He wasn't the typical mark she normally went for. Younger but short, a little cute, and obviously new. (He wore his name tag on the wrong side and wore white shoes while the rest of the staff had blacks.)

Maggie had her man, all that was left was a pair of heels. But finding a pair that she wanted was proving to be more difficult. The Christmas Eve procrastinators had already struck the joint, with most of the name-brands gone a lot of shelves stood empty.

She searched hard for a decent pair of heels and by the time she reached the other side of the shoe department, she came up with two lousy choices. A pair of Hype strapless heels and a pair of neon orange Juicy Couture.

She took one last look around before something caught her eye, beneath one of the circular clothing racks.

Maggie crouched down and surprisingly, found an extravagantly elegant pair of stilettos; black, with a simple but flourishing set of straps gliding up the ankle and a set of three lines of large midnight pearls going down the front, from the top the foot all the way to the elegantly tapered toes.

She reached under the hanging pants and grabbed the pair.

There was no tag or security device attached, there was no markings to note what name brand it belonged to.

Maggie sat down and tried on the shoes. They felt comfortable but something felt weird. Like her feet were tingling with warmth. Slowly, she made her way over to her non-typical mark, the younger, short, slightly cute, obviously new, guy.

“Hi.” She smiled. Looking at the tag, she could make out his name.

Mark...

How ironic.

“Can you give me your opinion about these shoes?” Maggie lifted the hem of her skirt slightly, twisting her leg to show off their long, slender shape.

“Nice...” He couldn't hide the way he gazed at them. “They make your legs look... nice.”

But Maggie didn't hear him. She felt dizzy, nauseous and her legs were on fire. She clutched her head as she took a step back. Finding a bench behind her, she quickly sat down.

“Whoa...” The boy said, wide-eyed. “What the...” He watched as Maggie slowly grew in size, matching his height while sitting down. He watched as her clothes grew with her, her long legs creeping closer and closer to him. The bench groaned slightly and began to sag under her weight. He watched speechlessly as her breasts ballooned beneath her low cut white blouse.

“What's happening to me?” Maggie asked herself in a groggy, delirious tone. She felt her butt spread over the entirety of the bench and felt the metal twist and bend beneath her. Maggie tried to get up but she could barely gather the strength to pull her legs underneath her.

The boy backed away as Maggie collapsed forward onto her hands, causing her cleavage to heave against each other. With her bent over the boy had a clear view straight down her blouse.

People were beginning to notice, point and to some extent gather from a distance. A few men braved a closer look, opting to move right behind her. Staring at the cheeks of the tight fitting yoga pants she wore.

And she continued to grow as people recorded video footage, took pictures and gasped as she approached the size of a van.

Maggie suddenly reared up onto her knees, surprising everyone as her head grazed the tiled ceiling, causing pieces of it to trickle about her ears. She gave a weak groan before keeling backwards causing the men staring at her rear to scramble out of the way as she landed on rows of shoe-containing shelves. The store shook as she crushed the rows of shelves underneath her. In her altered state of consciousness, she writhed on the floor, seemingly in pain, running her hands up and down her curvy body.

People who were starting to worry that she, in fact, would not stop growing, began scrambling away, heading for the doors. And as Maggie approached the size of a school bus, the rest began to flee, still recording their videos or snapping more pictures.

And security arrived, quite late if you thought about it, though they couldn't be blame; most of them believed that the report of a woman growing in the shoe department was nothing but a weird joke. They called the police naturally, and searched every bathroom and changing stall to warn occupants of what was coming. They watched, from a distance, as shelves and clothing racks were pushed outward by her growing body. And before long, a thick wall of broken store furniture were piled around her, continuing to grow. Whatever couldn't be pushed, Maggie simply grew over, crushing it beneath her.

They began to evacuate the building, using the PA system to alert anyone they might have missed, when Maggie grew so big, her large breasts were pushing into the ceiling.

It was getting harder for her to breath with such confined spaces for a girl easily the size of several commuter buses. Her shallow breathing blew the false plaster ceiling off of their rails, pieces of them falling into her mouth, between her plump, pink lips. When she inhaled the pieces of plaster, Maggie released a god-like cough that was enough to blow people out the door. And as she continued to clear her windpipe of the irritating plaster, Maggie's eyes finally snapped open.