Smallara Bonus Episode: First Holiday

in celebration of the 800th episode i wanted to do a bonus episode. Charity story will post at its normal time. 

Jordan stirred beneath the quilted blankets of his bed, blinking as soft golden light spilled through the translucent acrylic wallsof his habitat. Outside, frost etched delicate ferns across the walls like a frozen jungle of glass. Beyond the reinforced acrylic window, the world glowed in the cold stillness of the pale morning light reflecting off fields of endless white. 

He glanced to his right. 

Sara still slept. 

Her bed an immense mass of warmth and safety rose like a mountain range behind him. She lay cocooned beneath plush blankets, only the crown of her dark blonde hair peeking out. The slow, steady rise and fall of her breathing felt like distant thunder through the bedroom. Even in slumber, her presence radiated comfort. 

It had been months since the party at Chloe’s. The last time the world had felt truly green. Since then, the seasons had changed with a brutal authority. Autumn leaves gave way to barren branches, and the sky turned steel gray. A few weeks ago, winter arrived in full, merciless and heavy. 

Three feet of snow had blanketed the city. 

To Jordan, who stood just under four inches tall, that was over twelve times his height, a white world rising like gods had sculpted it overnight. The ground outside was no longer a terrain he could traverse, but a continent of ice, indifferent and lethal. 

Sara had shoveled the walkway that morning, her figure bundled in a heated coat with faux fur trim. The snowbanks she pushed aside effortlessly for her had become colossal drifts, each one to Jordan, a frozen Mount Everest. Just across the driveway, at either end of the entrance, the plows had built two more snowy titans bastions of packed ice that reached her waist and Jordan’s stratosphere. 

And those were just the piles. 

The untouched snow covering the yard was a white plateau, eerily smooth and impossibly vast, like a mountain range dusted from the heavens. Every flake that fell was the size of his head, soft but heavy, like sheets of wet parchment descending in slow motion. He’d watched one night as a single snowflake landed atop a Little sized action figure outside and crushed it instantly. No malice. Just mass. 

But snow wasn’t the only danger. Temperature was the real killer. 

As the fall days turned colder, Jordan’s independence shriveled. In summer, he’d managed entire afternoons on his own walking across the nightstand, venturing about Sara’s room or the house, riding on Sara’s shoulder to class or errands. Now, it was unthinkable. 

At 40°F ( 4.4°C), survival for a Little became a countdown. Even fully clothed in his winter gear with  fur lined boots, insulated jacket, gloves that took Sara days to source from a Little outfitter he had maybe an hour outdoors. Less if there was a breeze. A wind of just 5 mph (8 km/h) could cut that time in half, rendering him shivering and immobile in twenty minutes. Hypothermia would follow. 

Without protection? Ten minutes. Maybe. 

Sara had adapted accordingly. She’d purchased a heated jacket, an advanced Generitech make that used thin graphene coils woven into the lining efficient, discreet, and expensive. As much as Jordan loathed the indignity of riding in her pocket, pressed against the fabric of her chest or hip, it became necessary. The warmth radiating from her coat could mean the difference between life and death. 

On milder days, when she skipped the coat, she wore heated gloves, and he’d travel inside the padded lining of her palm. Those moments were strange: he could feel her pulse, slow and steady, thudding beneath layers of synthetic insulation and his own winter gear. Sometimes she would gently close her fingers around him not tight, never tight but enough to make him feel held, grounded in the storm. 

There was no more pretending. No more stubborn declarations of autonomy. 

He needed her. 

And she never let him forget that he had her. 

She had retrofitted his habitat with a scaled heating element she installed beneath the flooring technically repurposed tech from a reptile enclosure. She dialed it to 75°F (23.8°C) and never let it fall below. Even during rolling blackouts, Sara had battery backups on standby. The heating system ran nearly 24/7 now, humming softly beneath the miniature furniture, its warmth pushing back the frozen void just outside the glass. 

His home an acrylic dome about the size of a dinner plate sat on Sara’s nightstand, exactly where it had always been. She never moved it. He knew she liked being able to glance over at any time just to make sure he was okay. Sometimes, when she had nightmares, he’d hear her shift and sit up just to peer inside, her face massive and sleepy, framed in moonlight. 

That was the paradox of winter: it stripped him of freedom, but gave them closeness. 

Outside, the wind howled against the windows like something ancient and hungry. But inside this room and inside this tiny glass world he was warm. 

And she was watching over him. 
 
A few hours passed before Sara stirred, her body shifting beneath layers of blankets as a dim winter light washed the room in pale silver. The frost on the windows had thickened into crystalline sheets, and the sky beyond glowed with the muted tone of overcast snowy day.

Jordan, already awake and seated on a padded chair inside his habitat, had grown used to mornings like this. Sara wasn’t a morning person unless school forced her out of bed. When she had the freedom, she clung to sleep like a soft reprieve from the sharpness of her waking mind. 

As she rolled onto her side, her eyes opened and, as always, found him first. 

There were days when it comforted him. Other days, it felt like being watched by a sun that never blinked. But this morning? It was warm. Quiet. Familiar. 

“How’s my witto man?” she cooed, her voice sugar sweet and laced with affection. 

Jordan exhaled, his breath forming a fleeting puff of condensation inside his miniature world. That voice the way she inflected those words, the way she melted them into something playful and tender it had once made him bristle. Now, it felt like part of the room. Part of the rhythm of their life.

He looked down at the collar around his neck. A smooth, carbon fiber weave dyed in slate gray with leather astetics and diamond inset to the collar, the ID tag built into the rim like a medical bracelet. He had hated it at first every inch of it. The pressure, the weight, the meaning. Now, it felt more like a necklace his mother used to wear, constant, forgotten until touched. It had become his. A part of the shape of his silhouette. 

And he wasn’t alone. 

In the last few months, he’d noticed collars were changing not just in number, but in design. The government’s new regulations, rolling out at the start of the year, had triggered a cultural shift. Littles had begun assigning status and identity to their collars some subtle, some extravagant. 

Jordan had seen them in public: simple leather bands with stamped IDs for unskilled Littles. Plain, utilitarian. A silent signal of low status. But the higher tier Littles wore sculpted polymer collars, ones embedded with nanofiber ID scrolls, color coded edgework, even decorative flare. Collars had become currency, like cars or shoes in the old world. The better the collar, the better the Little. That was the narrative now. 

His was subtle, high end. Something that whispered status, not shouted it. 

“I’m good,” he said, as Sara unlatched the habitat’s lid and reached in resting her hand on the ground. Jordan stepped toward Sara’s hand. 

Even through the distortion of scale, Jordan was always aware of her smallness in the world of giants. At around five feet tall, Sara wasn’t exactly towering by human standards but to him, she was the sky. A force of nature. Her body was firm, compact, athletic. A precision engineered form that, even while lounging in bed, radiated quiet power. 

“Let’s do our morning workout routine,” she murmured, brushing strands of hair from her face. 

He could hear it in her voice. That edge. That tightness. 

Sara didn’t like exercise. She hated sweating, hated running. But she did it every day not out of love, but survival. Seven days a week, without fail. 

Because of Charity Stevens. 

Jordan had only been around Charity a few times. Most of what happened predated his time with Sara. He didn’t know all the details. He Didn’t need to. The damage she left echoed in everything Sara said or didn’t say about her body. Jordan had pieced the parts he didn’t know together slowly: the relentless comments, the comparisons, the humiliation. The way Charity had framed Sara’s body as something monstrous, laughable. Her words were gone, but the scars remained etched not on skin, but in mirrors. Mirrors Sara no longer trusted. 

She never saw the strength in herself. Never saw the beauty. Only defects, imaginary or otherwise. 

“You look great, Sara,” Jordan said, stepping into her hand, the ridged surface of her palm soft beneath his boots. 
“Really you’ve got this firm, strong build. You haven’t eaten over two thousand calories in months. You’ve been under fifteen hundred almost every day. You’ve done the work. You’ve reshaped yourself.” 

Her eyes flickered, not fully accepting it, but listening. 

Jordan had once been proud of his own body, fit, muscular in a natural way. But even then, he had never known the discipline Sara possessed. Her body wasn’t just toned. It was carved from self denial. Not by choice, but by necessity. Charity had stolen from Sara the ability to look in the mirror and feel joy. Stolen the right to rest. 

Now, every workout was a punishment for sins never committed. 

So he reminded her. Every day. Every set. Every rep. 

“You’re not what she said you were,” he whispered as she gently closed her fingers around him, lifting him toward the floor mat. 
“You never were.” 

Sara said nothing normally. But her fingers would tremble? just slightly, before steadying again. 

It was still early, and the snow outside howled. But inside, where one girl carried the weight of invisible wounds that were unable to heal.

Sara set Jordan down gently onto the padded floor mat beside her bed. The room was still cloaked in winter silence only the muffled hum of his habitat heater and the low whoosh of air through the vents filled the space. 

She stretched her arms upward, spine arching beneath the loose hoodie she still wore. Her voice was casual, light with sleep. 

“Gimme two minutes, ‘kay? I gotta change.” 

Jordan gave a small nod, though she didn’t wait for approval. 

He’d long since learned that his opinion didn’t govern much in this space not out of cruelty, but because to Sara, he wasn’t a boy, or a man. He was her Little. And Littles didn’t need to turn around or close their eyes. They just were. Present, silent, trusted. 

She peeled the hoodie over her head with a casual tug, revealing a fitted black sports bra. Her skin flushed slightly in the warmth of the room. Her waist was tight, compact. The cut of her hips firm and athletic, legs pale from winter but carved from consistency. She stepped out of her flannel sleep pants and into a pair of smooth, navy blue leggings pulling them over toned thighs with one graceful motion. 

From Jordan’s less than four inch height, it was like watching a mountain shift its clouds. 

Even now, months into his new reality, it was surreal. She was fifteen. And he was had graduated college and had started working his first real job. But the difference in age didn’t matter anymore. Size erased status. Law confirmed it. 

She didn’t blush. Didn’t hide. 

Because to her, he wasn’t a boy watching a girl change. 

He was her pet sitting quietly while his owner got ready. 

“Okay,” she said, snapping her sports bra strap with a smirk. “No excuses. You’re not getting out of squats today.” 

“Lucky me,” Jordan muttered as she lowered herself into a seated position on the mat beside him. Her presence was immense like a warm wall of living, breathing muscle. 

She grinned. “Don’t be like that. You’re the one who said my thighs looked strong.” 

“They are strong. Like… train car strong.” 

“You saying I’m thick?” 

“I’m saying if you decided to crush a soda can with your legs, you’d probably vaporize it.” 

Sara laughed a real one. Loud, unfiltered. Her ponytail bounced as she began stretching, reaching for her toes and letting her ribs press against her knees. 

Jordan followed suit as best he could, mimicking the stretches she guided him through. Sara had designed a Little appropriate routine just for him using paperclips as dumbbells, repurposed twist ties as resistance bands, and a stack of rubber tokens for core work. It was humiliating the first few weeks, but now? 

Now it was their thing. 

“Alright. Ten jump squats for me, then I want you doing your shoulder presses, okay?” she said, already rising into her first squat. Her movement was smooth, grounded, and immense. 

Each jump felt like a localized earthquake. Her feet thudded against the mat, sending vibrations through Jordan’s legs, each landing like a bass drum. 

“You know you could, like, knock me over just by sneezing,” he said, steadying himself as she jumped again. 

“Yeah, but I don’t. That’s what makes me such a good owner.” She winked. 

He swallowed that word owner. She said it like a joke, but it wasn’t. Not really. 

“Okay, your turn,” she said, dropping onto her knees to watch him. Her presence loomed like a structure behind him, her face miles above but smiling. 

Jordan lifted the paperclip weights, his tiny arms trembling slightly. 

“You’re shaking already? You only did six.” 

“I’m a few inches tall and you’re giving me rebar. What did you expect?” 

“I expected gains,” she teased, gently tapping his back with one finger. The touch was enough to nudge him forward slightly. “C’mon. Push through.” 

He gritted his teeth and kept going. She counted softly above him, her voice a comforting metronome. 

When he finished, she offered him a capful of water, which he drank gratefully. Her thumb brushed his cheek as he finished. Just once. Light. Almost thoughtless. 

“Good job,” she said. “That was better than last week. See? You’re getting strong.” 

“I had a good trainer.” 

“You mean a hot trainer.” 

“I mean a terrifyingly attractive, mildly bossy trainer who treats me like a very motivated housecat.” 

She snorted. “That’s fair.” 

The two of them sat in silence for a moment her enormous figure cross legged beside him, sweat beginning to form at her temples. The room was warm now, the heater humming, the cold outside forgotten. 

“Do you miss it?” she asked suddenly, not looking down. “Being big?” 

He paused. Then nodded. 

“Sometimes,” he said. “But I’d miss this more. This has been a second chance on life for me. I was shy and quiet so I missed out on a lot. Now with you I get to expierence everything I missed.

Sara looked down at him, eyes soft. 

“Yeah,” she whispered. “I’d miss this too.” 

 
They both sat there quietly on the floor for a moment before Sara finally stood up. She walked over to the window and took in the morning. The fallen snow, the white winter wonderland. How this winter had felt so different now that she had a little. She had Jordan now and that meant things were going to be forever different. This was the first. She looked down at him.  

“You don’t know what day it is do you?” Sara said casually.  
 
“Ummm its wednesday I think” Jordan said with a certainty as he lapped more water from the bottle cap Sara had given him.  

“Its Christmas eve Jordy,” Sara said with a slight laugh. 

Jordan couldn’t believe he had forgotten. He hadn’t even realized  that it was christmas. He had always been such a festive person with christmas being his favorite holiday and yet now as a little he hadnt realized. Christmas felt above him in some ways.  He didn’t have a capacity to buy gifts. This year Sara had taken him shopping a week before the snow had fallen. He picked out gifts for Chloe, Ellie, Kayla, Mallory, Stephanie, Gavin and Kelli. Sara had picked out seperate gifts for all her friends then she added from Sara and Jordy Reeves to the gifts she got for her parents. 

“God that day was so crazy,” Jordan had said remembering that day: 
 
The winter air bit sharp against Sara’s cheeks as she pushed through the heavy glass doors of Westfield Mall, her breath forming small clouds in the heated entryway. Jordan sat snugly in the inner pocket of her coat, surrounded by the soft fleece lining and warmed by her body heat. Through the fabric, he could hear the familiar sounds of holiday shopping the distant jingle of Christmas music, the chatter of crowds, and the electronic beeps of cash registers. 

“Okay, little man,” Sara whispered, adjusting her coat slightly so Jordan could peek out. “We’ve got a lot to cover today. I made a list on my phone of everyone we need to get gifts for.” 

She pulled out her oversized Stanley cup, taking a long sip of water before continuing. “So like, I’m obviously getting separate gifts for everyone from me, but I thought it would be cute if you had your own gifts to give too. More personal, you know?” 

Jordan felt a familiar twist in his stomach as Sara mentioned the gift giving. The reality was that Sara would be doing all the buying while he… what exactly was his role here? He’d been Sara’s Little for only a few months now, and the holidays felt like navigating uncharted territory. 

“Where should we start?” Sara asked, scrolling through her phone. “We’ve got Chloe, Ellie, Kayla, Mallory, Stephanie, Gavin, and Kelli for your list. Plus I’m getting stuff for my parents and like, everyone else separately.” 

The mall stretched out before them like a glittering cavern of commerce. From Jordan’s perspective, riding in Sara’s pocket, everything looked impossibly vast the soaring ceilings decorated with enormous red and gold ornaments, the towering Christmas tree in the center court that seemed to scrape the sky, and the endless streams of shoppers who moved like a river of giants. 

As Jordan listened to Sara rattle off the names, a strange melancholy settled over him. These were Sara’s friends her social circle, her world. But somehow, they’d become his world too. When had that happened? When had Chloe stopped being “Sara’s girlfriend” and started being someone he genuinely cared about? When had Ellie’s opinion started mattering to him? 

Three months ago, his closest relationships had been with Ms. Brooks and Ms. Sanchez Sara’s English and Gym teachers who had been his friend back in college. They still treated him like an equal, an adult. Now he could barely remember the last time he’d had a real conversation with either of them outside of school or through his tablet. His world was shrinking in more ways than one, condensing down to fit entirely within Sara’s fifteen year old social sphere. 

“Maybe we should start with the Little gifts?” Jordan suggested, his voice muffled by the pocket. “For Gavin and Kelli?” 

“Bet, that’s so smart,” Sara said, headed toward the escalator. “There’s a Little Mart on the second floor. Chloe’s family just opened it last month to trial out things before the full launch, it’s honestly pretty fire.” 

As they rose on the escalator, Jordan caught glimpses of the mall spreading out below them. The scale was dizzying what would have been a normal shopping trip just four months ago now felt like traversing a city built for titans. 

The Little Mart was tucked between a Victoria’s Secret and a GameStop, its storefront smaller than most but packed with tiny products displayed behind glass cases. Sara approached the counter where a young employee, probably college aged, greeted them with a practiced smile. 

“Hi! Are you shopping for a Little today?” the clerk asked. 

“Two Littles, actually,” Sara replied, unzipping her coat pocket slightly so Jordan could emerge and sit on her palm. “This is Jordy, and we’re looking for gifts for some Little friends.” 

The clerk’s eyes lit up. “Oh, how sweet! What sizes are your friends?” 

“Gavin is about four inches, so a little taller than Jordy here,” Sara said, giving Jordan a gentle pet with her finger. “And Kelli is around six inches.” 

“Perfect! We have some great holiday items. For the four inch Little, might I suggest this gaming setup?” The clerk gestured to a display case containing what looked like a perfectly scaled gaming chair, desk, and tiny controller setup. “It connects to any smartphone or tablet for gaming.” 

Jordan’s eyes widened. Even at his scale, the craftsmanship was incredible. “That’s actually really impressive,” he said, though his voice carried a note of uncertainty. 

“It’s $800,” the clerk added cheerfully. 

Jordan felt his stomach drop. Eight hundred dollars. For a gift. He looked up at Sara, suddenly acutely aware that he had exactly zero dollars to his name. No credit cards, no bank account that he could access, no way to contribute financially to anything. 

“That’s literally perfect,” Sara said without hesitation, not even glancing at the price tag. “Gavin’s gonna lose his mind. What about something for a six inch Little? She’s like, super independent. Used to be a soccer player before, you know…” 

“Ah, we have just the thing!” The clerk moved to another display case. “This is our deluxe athletic set it includes a treadmill, weights, and resistance bands, all properly scaled. Very popular with Littles who want to maintain their fitness routines.” 

The price tag read $1,200. 

“Sara,” Jordan whispered, trying to keep his voice low. “That’s… that’s a substantial amount of money.” 

Sara looked down at him, taking another sip from her Stanley cup. “It’s Christmas, Jordy. Besides, I want Kelli to know you’re thinking of her specifically. She’s been having such a rough time adjusting and stuff.” 

The casual way Sara dismissed the cost nearly two thousand dollars without blinking made Jordan’s chest tighten. Before Smallara, those purchases would have represented weeks of his salary. Now they were just… Christmas gifts. That Sara was buying. While he contributed nothing but suggestions. 

“Actually,” Sara continued, “let’s get both. And make sure the tags just say ‘From Jordy,’ okay?” 

As the clerk began processing the purchases, Jordan watched the familiar dance of modern commerce. The clerk pulled out a sleek tablet with the Generitech logo subtly embossed in the corner standard for most retailers now. The Flow terminal was built right in, its circular payment pad glowing a soft blue. 

“That’ll be $2,000 even,” the clerk said, tapping the screen. 

Sara pulled out her phone, the latest Generitech model with the characteristic edge to edge display. Without even opening an app, she simply held it near the Flow terminal. The blue glow shifted to green, and both devices chimed softly. 

The clerk’s eyes widened as she looked at her screen. “Oh! There’s been an automatic adjustment to your total. You received a 40% spokesperson discount. Your new total is $1,200.” 

Jordan watched Sara’s cheeks flush slightly pink. “Oh, um, yeah. I sometimes forget about that.” 

“Wait,” the clerk said, looking more closely at Sara, then down at Jordan. “Are you Sara Reeves? The Little Mart spokesperson?” 

“Guilty,” Sara said with a sheepish smile, taking another sip from her Stanley cup. 

“Oh my god, I love your streams! And your ads are everywhere.” The clerk turned to Jordan with obvious excitement. “And you must be the Jordy! You’re even cuter in person.” 

Jordan felt his face heat up with embarrassment. Being recognized as Sara’s Little was still something he hadn’t adjusted to. 

As they waited for the clerk to wrap everything, Jordan reflected on what he’d just witnessed. Flow had become so ubiquitous that he barely thought about it anymore, but watching Sara pay had reminded him just how deeply Generitech’s payment platform had integrated into everyday life. 

Flow wasn’t just an app it was infrastructure. Every Generitech device came with Flow pre installed, synced automatically to the user’s identity profile. No downloads, no setup, no friction. From the moment someone activated their first Generitech phone, watch, or tablet, Flow was ready. It connected seamlessly across every device in their ecosystem, making payments as simple as touching two pieces of technology together. 

The genius was in its omnipresence. Flow terminals were everywhere coffee shops, department stores, street vendors with portable dongles that could turn any tablet into a payment processor. Even online, the distinctive Flow button sat prominently alongside traditional checkout options, often above them. The Flow Card had revolutionized physical payments too, backed by Generitech’s own financial division and linked directly to users’ Flow wallets. Within five years of launch, it had actually overtaken Visa and Mastercard in global market share. 

In areas where Generitech had significant influence which was most major metropolitan areas Flow wasn’t really a choice anymore. It was the default. Trusted, fast, and everywhere. 

“So like,” Sara said to the clerk as she finished wrapping, “I’m always curious how the integration is working for retailers. Is the Flow system pretty smooth for you guys?” 

“Oh, it’s amazing,” the clerk replied enthusiastically. “I’m he Flow backend handles everything payment processing, inventory tracking, even our employee scheduling system. Plus the transaction fees are way lower than the old credit card companies charge.” 

Jordan listened with interest. He remembered the transition period when Flow was rolling out back when he was still full sized. There had been some resistance initially, concerns about Generitech having too much control over financial infrastructure. But the convenience and lower costs had won out, as they usually did. 

“That’s awesome to hear,” Sara said genuinely. “Chloe’s always asking me about user feedback when I see her.” 

They left Little Mart with several bags of wrapped gifts, Sara carrying them effortlessly while Jordan rode on her shoulder. The rest of the mall beckoned Victoria’s Secret for something for Chloe (which made Jordan deeply uncomfortable to help pick out), the Apple Store for gadgets, Bath & Body Works for the other girls. 

With each purchase, Jordan felt the weight of his new reality settling more heavily on his shoulders. Sara’s Flow payments were seamless just a tap of her phone, money flowing as easily as her namesake payment system suggested. She spent effortlessly hundreds here, hundreds there while he contributed nothing but opinions. By the time they reached the jewelry store to look at something for Chloe, Jordan had stopped looking at price tags altogether. 

“What do you think of this one?” Sara asked, pointing to a delicate gold bracelet with tiny diamonds. 

“It’s beautiful,” Jordan said automatically, not bothering to check the cost. 

“You’re being mad quiet,” Sara observed, adjusting her grip on her Stanley cup. “You good?” 

Jordan looked up at her, this teenage girl who held complete control over his life, his finances, his very survival. Three months ago, they’d been neighbors who barely spoke. Now she was buying thousands of dollars worth of Christmas gifts while he sat in her pocket like a living accessory. And these gifts were going to people who had somehow, without him fully realizing it, become his people too. 

“I’m just… processing some things,” he said finally. “It’s strange how completely my social world has changed. A few months ago, my closest relationships were with your teachers adults who treated me as an equal. Now my entire social circle consists of your friends, and somehow that doesn’t feel temporary anymore.” 

Sara’s expression grew more serious. “Is that… bad? Like, do you not want to be friends with them?” 

“No, that’s the thing,” Jordan said quietly. “I do care about them. Genuinely. And that realization is both comforting and terrifying. It means I’m not just temporarily occupying space in your world I’m actually becoming part of it.” 

Sara smiled and gave him a gentle stroke with her finger. “That’s literally the point, Jordy. We’re family now. My friends are your friends. My world is your world. We’re a team.” 

Family. Team. The words should have been comforting, but they only reminded Jordan of how completely his world had shifted. As Sara headed toward the checkout counter with the bracelet, her Flow payment processing automatically, Jordan tried to push down the growing realization that this wasn’t just his first Christmas as a Little it was his first Christmas in an entirely new life, with entirely new relationships, in an entirely new world. 

And despite everything, he was starting to care about that world more than he’d expected. 

 
Jordan blinked slowly, his consciousness surfacing from the depths of memory like a swimmer emerging from dark water. The familiar weight of recollection settled around him as Sara’s footsteps approached across the hardwood floor, each step sending minute vibrations through the mattress beneath him. The present moment crystallized with startling clarity as she bent down, her face momentarily eclipsing the soft afternoon light filtering through the bedroom windows. 

Her hands, warm and steady, slipped beneath his small frame with the practiced ease that had developed over months of careful handling. The sensation of being lifted never quite lost its disorienting quality that moment of weightlessness followed by the gentle pressure of her palm supporting his entire body weight as effortlessly as she might cradle a butterfly. 

“I’m just gonna take a quick shower and put my makeup on,” Sara said, settling him onto the plush expanse of her pillow. The fabric beneath him was impossibly soft, like sinking into a cloud that smelled faintly of her vanilla shampoo and the lavender fabric softener her mother used on the linens. “Since it’s Christmas I figured you could hang out here instead of being my little makeup buddy today.” 

Jordan felt himself relax into the familiar comfort of the pillow, though something in Sara’s tone suggested this moment of reprieve came with complications. She remained perched on the edge of the bed, her expression shifting from casual to something more measured, more careful. It was the look she wore when she needed to discuss something important but wasn’t quite sure how he would receive it. 

“When I get back we’ll have to talk about what you’re gonna do,” she continued, her fingers absently smoothing a wrinkle in the comforter. “Since it’s Christmas you know that Dayton and her mom are coming over. I know Dayton literally isn’t your favorite person and I haven’t forced you to be anywhere near her since the yard incident.” 

The mention of Dayton’s name sent an involuntary shiver through Jordan’s diminutive frame. Images flashed unbidden through his mind the overwhelming terror of being trapped in her untrained grip, the casual cruelty in her voice as she’d issued commands, the helpless feeling of being treated like nothing more than an amusing toy. Even now, months later, the memory had the power to make his pulse quicken and his breathing shallow. 

“So if you want to stay in your habitat all Christmas you can,” Sara offered, her voice gentling as she seemed to sense his internal reaction. “Or you can choose to take part in Christmas. But you need to understand Jordy, Dayton is family to me. She’s basically my kid sister. I babysat her as you know. She’s a part of my life. Her mom and my mom are childhood friends and so they aren’t going anywhere.” 

Jordan watched Sara’s face as she spoke, noting the way her jaw set with quiet determination. This wasn’t a negotiation, he realized. This was Sara explaining the unchangeable facts of his new reality. Dayton would always be present in Sara’s world, which meant she would always be present in his world, whether he liked it or not. 

“I’m not saying you have to spend one on one time with her,” Sara continued, her tone becoming more conciliatory. “But you can’t avoid her forever.” 

With that pronouncement hanging in the air between them, Sara reached out and gave him one of her characteristic gentle pets her fingertip stroking along his back with just enough pressure to release the tension he’d been carrying in his shoulders. The physical comfort was immediate and involuntary, his body responding to her touch even as his mind churned with anxiety about the day ahead. 

Then she was gone, disappearing into the bathroom with a soft click of the door, leaving Jordan alone with his thoughts on the vast expanse of her bed. The sound of running water soon filled the silence, and he found himself staring up at the ceiling, trying to process the choice she’d laid before him. 

As his mind wandered, it drifted inexorably back to another shopping expedition one that had taken place just a few weeks after their marathon gift buying session at the mall. The memory surfaced with vivid clarity, bringing with it all the complex emotions he’d felt during that strange afternoon when Chloe and Ellie had insisted on taking him out to find gifts specifically for Sara and, to his considerable dismay, for Dayton as well. 

He could still remember the warm softness of Chloe’s coat beneath him as they’d walked through the cobblestone streets of the downtown shopping district. The boutique shops there were smaller, more intimate than the sprawling department stores at the mall, their windows decorated with twinkling lights and carefully arranged holiday displays that seemed to glow with warmth against the gray December afternoon. 

“But why do I need to get Dayton anything?” he had asked, his voice barely audible over the gentle hum of conversation and holiday music drifting from the shops around them. The question had been eating at him since Ellie had first suggested it, growing more insistent with each step they took toward their destination. 

Ellie had laughed then. Her laughter held the same gentle firmness that characterized so much of her interaction with him patient but unwavering in its conviction. “Because that’s literally what you do for family, Jordy. And like it or not, Sara considers Dayton family, which means she’s part of your world now too.” 

The logic had been unassailable, even if Jordan’s emotions rebelled against it. Family. The word carried such weight in Sara’s world, encompassing not just blood relations but chosen bonds, relationships forged through years of shared experiences and mutual care. Dayton had earned her place in that constellation through nothing more complicated than being Sara’s responsibility, her charge, her surrogate little sister. 

Chloe had nodded her agreement, her usually reserved demeanor softening as she’d added her own perspective. “Besides, Jordan, Christmas gifts aren’t always about liking someone. Sometimes they’re about acknowledging their place in your life, even if that place is complicated.” 

The word ‘complicated’ had struck him as particularly apt. His relationship with Dayton existed in a gray area he was still learning to navigate, she was neither friend nor stranger, neither ally nor enemy, but something more nuanced. She was a permanent fixture in Sara’s life, which made her, by extension, a permanent fixture in his life, regardless of his personal feelings about her. 

They had spent nearly an hour in a small art supply store tucked between a coffee shop and a vintage bookstore. The shop smelled of paper and pencil shavings, with tall shelves lined with every conceivable artistic medium. Jordan had found himself genuinely engaged in the selection process, studying the different sets of colored pencils with an intensity that surprised him. 

“These are actually so cute,” Ellie had observed, leaning down to examine his choice more closely. The set he’d selected was housed in a beautiful wooden box, each pencil nestled in its own felt lined compartment. The colors ranged from subtle earth tones to vibrant jewel shades, and even at his small scale, Jordan could appreciate the quality of the craftsmanship. 

“Dayton’s lowkey really talented at drawing,” Ellie had continued, and Jordan had felt his eyebrows rise in surprise. “Sara showed me some of her sketches once. She’s got a real eye for detail.” 

This revelation had forced Jordan to confront an uncomfortable truth: his perception of Dayton was almost entirely colored by their traumatic first encounters. He had never considered that she might have interests, talents, or dimensions beyond the cruel giant who had terrorized him in the backyard. The idea that she created art, that she had a softer side capable of patient, detailed work, challenged his simplified understanding of who she was. 

For Sara, the selection process had been equally thoughtful but in an entirely different way. He’d chosen a delicate silver bracelet from a jewelry case that had required the shopkeeper to unlock with a small key. The charm was tiny even by his standards a miniature camera that caught the light and threw it back in brilliant flashes. It was a reference to Sara’s streaming career, her growing online presence that had become such a central part of her identity. 

“The important thing,” Chloe had said as they’d carefully wrapped each gift in tissue paper and ribbon, “is that these are coming from you. Sara’s gonna know you put actual thought into them, and that’s what matters.” 

The gifts now sat wrapped beneath the tree downstairs, waiting for Christmas morning. Each one represented hours of consideration, internal debate about what would be appropriate, meaningful, or at least acceptable. They were tangible evidence of how deeply embedded he’d become in Sara’s world, how thoroughly her relationships had become his relationships. 

But the Dayton situation remained a knot he couldn’t untangle. Sara was right that he couldn’t avoid her forever, especially not if she truly was as integral to Sara’s life as Sara claimed. Yet every time he imagined being in the same room with her, his body tensed with remembered fear. The yard incident had been transformative in the worst possible way, a crash course in just how helpless he could be in the wrong hands. 

He remembered the feeling of her fingers wrapped around him, untrained and careless. He remembered the casual way she’d issued commands, as if he were a pet rather than a person. Most vividly, he remembered the moment when he’d realized that Sara wasn’t coming to rescue him because he never told her he was in danger, that he was entirely at Dayton’s mercy until she chose to let him go. 

The shower continued to run in the bathroom, the sound of water against tile creating a steady rhythm that gradually began to soothe his racing thoughts. Sara would emerge soon, expecting an answer about how he wanted to handle Christmas Day. He could retreat to his habitat, safe behind familiar glass walls, watching the festivities from a comfortable distance. The option held obvious appeal safety, control, the ability to participate without risk. 

But another part of him, the part that had slowly grown stronger during his months with Sara, whispered that hiding wasn’t really living. Christmas was important to Sara. Her joy in the holiday was genuine and infectious, and she’d made it clear that his presence would enhance her celebration. Could he really spend the day locked away while she tried to balance her worry for him with her desire to enjoy time with her chosen family? 

The water shut off abruptly, and Jordan knew he had only a few more minutes before Sara would return, freshly showered and ready for the conversation they both knew was coming. He could picture her routine the careful application of moisturizer, the selection of just the right outfit for Christmas Day, the attention to detail that characterized everything she did. 

Jordan closed his eyes and tried to imagine what Christmas Day would look like if he chose to participate fully. He could picture himself sitting at the table during Christmas dinner, sharing conversation with Sara’s parents, perhaps even finding common ground with Dayton if he gave her a chance to show the artistic side Ellie had mentioned. He could imagine Sara’s face lighting up with genuine pleasure at having him present for the entire celebration. 

It was a nice vision, even if he wasn’t entirely sure he possessed the courage to make it reality. But as he lay there on Sara’s pillow, surrounded by the familiar scents and textures of her world, Jordan began to understand that courage wasn’t really the point. Love was the point. Love for Sara, who had given him safety and purpose when he’d lost everything else. Love for the new life he’d built, however strange and dependent it might be. 

The bathroom door opened with a soft creak, and Jordan opened his eyes to see Sara emerging in a cloud of steam, her hair wrapped in a towel and her face glowing from the heat of the shower. She caught sight of him immediately, her expression expectant but patient. 

“So,” she said, settling on the edge of the bed where she could see him clearly. “Have you thought about what you wanna do today?” 

Jordan took a deep breath, feeling the weight of decision settling around him like a blanket. Christmas was about family, about being present for the people you cared about, even when that presence required courage you weren’t sure you possessed. 

“I want to be part of Christmas,” he said finally, his voice steady despite the flutter of anxiety in his chest. “All of it. Even the complicated parts.” 

Sara’s smile was radiant, transforming her entire face with its warmth and genuine pleasure. It was the kind of smile that made every risk feel worthwhile, every fear feel surmountable. 

“That’s my brave wittle man,” she said softly, reaching out to give him another gentle pet. “You don’t have to leave my side. I won’t let Dayton hold you unless want her too.” 
 
Sara changed into a Christmas sweater and some pants while she provided Jordan with something casual but also nice and warm due to his size. She placed him on her shoulder as she opened her bedroom. As she headed to the living room.  
 
The Christmas Eve afternoon light filtered through the living room windows in dusty golden streams, casting everything in the warm amber glow that made the holiday decorations shimmer with extra magic. Sara lay sprawled across the leather couch like a cat claiming territory, her body draped in jeans and an oversized Christmas sweatshirt. Her legs stretched the length of the cushions, socked feet finding refuge near her father’s thigh as he occupied the far end of the couch with the studied casualness of someone pretending not to be invested in a Christmas movie marathon. 

The living room hummed with the particular energy of Christmas Eve anticipation thick in the air like the scent of cinnamon and pine from the tree in the corner. Wrapped presents sat in carefully arranged piles beneath the branches, their colorful paper catching the twinkling lights that Sara’s mother had spent an hour positioning to absolute perfection. 

Jordan found himself positioned on the soft expanse of Sara’s stomach, right where the fabric of her sweatshirt created a small valley between the rise and fall of her breathing. The rhythm was hypnotic gentle, steady, like being on a ship in calm waters. Sara’s fingers moved around him with absent minded affection, rolling him between her palms like a worry stone, her touch neither careless nor deliberate but somewhere in that comfortable middle ground of holiday relaxation. 

He’d grown accustomed to this particular form of fidgeting. Sara always needed something to do with her hands when she texted Chloe, and in the months since his transformation, he’d become her preferred tactile companion for these digital conversations. There was something oddly intimate about it being present for these exchanges while simultaneously serving as a living stress ball on Christmas Eve. 

Bzzz. 

The vibration of Sara’s phone against the coffee table sent a small tremor through the couch cushions. Jordan felt Sara’s attention shift immediately, her fingers pausing their gentle manipulation as a smile bloomed across her face with the predictability of sunrise even more radiant on Christmas Eve. 

Chloe 💜: Thinking about you. Still taste your lip gloss from last night. Strawberry lemonade? 

Jordan couldn’t help but read over her shoulder a consequence of his position that had long since stopped feeling like an invasion of privacy. At his size, privacy was a luxury that simply didn’t exist. Sara’s fingers resumed their movement as she typed, her thumb creating small circles against his back that were surprisingly soothing. 

Sara 🦊: omg u noticed?? yes lol it was the sparkly one. i wore it 4 u 

The response came almost immediately, and Jordan could practically feel the warmth radiating from Sara’s phone screen. 

Chloe 💜: Mission successful. If you’d stayed five more minutes, I’d have melted you against my desk. 

Sara’s thumb stopped moving entirely for a moment, and Jordan felt her breath catch slightly. The pause stretched long enough that he wondered if she was blushing, though from his position on her stomach, he couldn’t see her face clearly. 

Sara 🦊: lol i was already melty. ur stupid cute when u’re flustered i love u 

The words hung in the air with a weight that Jordan could feel in his chest. Love. Such a simple word, yet it carried the full force of everything Sara and Chloe had built together over these months. He wasn’t just witnessing their relationship from the sidelines anymore he was literally embedded in it, feeling Sara’s heartbeat quicken as she typed those three crucial words on Christmas Eve. 

From the kitchen came the gentle symphony of holiday preparation: the clink of silverware being sorted for Christmas dinner, the soft whoosh of drawers sliding open and closed, the occasional murmur of Sara’s mother talking to herself as she checked items off her elaborate Christmas menu. Sara’s father shifted slightly on the couch, his glasses catching the blue and red glow of the television screen as It’s a Wonderful Life played for what was probably the hundredth time this season. 

This was family, Jordan realized with a start. Not the traditional Christmas Eve configuration he’d once imagined for himself, but family nonetheless. Weird, cozy, complicated, and utterly real made even more meaningful by the magic of the holiday. 

Chloe 💜: I love you too, starlight. Tell Jordy Merry Christmas Eve for me 🫶🎄 

Sara’s laugh was soft and musical, the kind of sound that made the whole room feel lighter and more festive. Her fingers found Jordan again, giving him a gentle squeeze as she typed her response. 

Sara 🦊: he’s laying on me like a little christmas marshmallow rn gonna roast him by the fireplace if he gets sassy but i will 😘 

“Chloe says Merry Christmas Eve,” Sara announced, tilting her head down to look at him with eyes that sparkled with holiday mischief and affection. 

“Tell her I’m being crushed under the weight of your Christmas spirit,” Jordan replied, though his tone was more fond than complaining. 

“He says he’s being dramatic about the holiday magic,” Sara translated into her phone, her fingers dancing across the screen as she giggled. 

“I specifically said crushed by Christmas spirit there’s a significant difference,” Jordan protested, though he made no effort to move from his cozy position. 

Sara’s attention returned to her phone as another message appeared, and Jordan found himself studying the profile of her face in the warm afternoon light mixed with the glow of Christmas tree lights. There was something different about Sara when she texted Chloe a softness that replaced her usual confident energy, made even more pronounced by the gentle contentment of Christmas Eve. 

Chloe 💜: How was your Christmas Eve morning? Did you finish wrapping everything? 

Sara 🦊: ugh barely. had to rewrap jordys gifts like three times bc the paper kept being too big why is everything made for giants?? 

Chloe 💜: 😂 Because the world wasn’t designed for our tiny Christmas elves. Want me to bring over some of our Little sized wrapping supplies tomorrow? 

Sara 🦊: would u?? ur literally the best christmas gf ever i owe u big time 

Jordan watched the exchange with fascination. Even in their most casual Christmas Eve conversations, there was an underlying current of care and support that seemed to flow effortlessly between them. Chloe’s offer to help with wrapping supplies wasn’t accompanied by judgment or condescension just the simple desire to make Sara’s Christmas a little easier. 

Chloe 💜: Always. Speaking of tomorrow, are you excited for Christmas morning? I can’t wait to see your face when you open my gift. 

Sara’s fingers paused, and Jordan felt a slight flutter of excitement creep into her posture. 

Sara 🦊: omg what did u get me?? u know i hate surprises but also love them 

Chloe 💜: Not telling. But I will say it’s something you’ve wanted for a while, and it might make streaming even more fun. 

Sara 🦊: ur killing me. is it tech stuff?? new camera equipment?? 

Chloe 💜: 🤐 You’ll find out tomorrow. What time should I come over for Christmas dinner? 

“Sara! Can you come help me with the Christmas Eve appetizers?” Sara’s mother called from the kitchen, her voice carrying the particular urgency that came with holiday meal preparation. 

“Coming, Mom!” Sara called back, then looked down at Jordan with an apologetic expression. “Sorry, little guy. Christmas Eve duty calls.” 

She carefully transferred him to the couch cushion beside her phone, which lay face up and glowing with their conversation. “Can you handle responding to Chloe? Just tell her dinner’s at four tomorrow, and maybe hint that you’re curious about my gift too.” 

Jordan watched as Sara navigated to her phone settings with practiced ease, switching it to Little Mode. The interface immediately transformed icons became larger, touch sensitivity increased to accommodate his smaller fingers, and the haptic feedback strengthened so he could actually feel when he’d successfully pressed something. 

“I’ll be right back,” Sara said, pressing a quick kiss to his head before disappearing toward the kitchen to help with Christmas Eve preparations. 

Jordan found himself alone with Sara’s phone, staring at the conversation thread that suddenly felt much more intimidating now that he was expected to participate directly on Christmas Eve. The screen was enormous from his perspective like standing in front of a billboard decorated with holiday lights but the Little Mode interface made it manageable. 

He carefully made his way to the keyboard, each step deliberate and measured. Even with the enhanced touch sensitivity, typing required his full concentration. Each letter needed to be pressed with both hands, and he had to be careful not to accidentally trigger other functions. 

Sara 🦊: hey its jordy. sara got called away for christmas eve prep. dinner is at 4 tomorrow 

The typing took longer than he’d expected, each word requiring careful navigation across the giant keyboard. By the time he finished, his arms ached slightly from the effort, but there was something satisfying about contributing to their Christmas Eve conversation. 

The response came quickly. 

Chloe 💜: Hi Jordy! ✨ Merry Christmas Eve! Are you excited for tomorrow? 

Jordan paused, considering the question. Christmas as a Little was still such a new experience. Last year at this time, he’d been full sized, probably stressed about work deadlines and wondering if he’d bought appropriate gifts for people. Now he was literally sitting on a phone, typing messages for his teenage guardian to her girlfriend. 

Sara 🦊: yeah but its weird. last christmas i was buying my own gifts and stressing about adult stuff. now sara picks out my presents and i dont even know what i asked for 

Chloe 💜: That must feel strange. Do you miss the independence? 

The directness of her question caught him off guard. Chloe had always been perceptive, but her ability to cut straight to the heart of his concerns never failed to surprise him, especially when wrapped in holiday conversation. 

Sara 🦊: sometimes. but also sara knows me better than i know myself now. she probably picked better gifts than i would have 

Chloe 💜: She definitely did. I helped her with a couple of them. You’re going to love what she got you. 

Sara 🦊: youre as bad as she is with the suspense 

Chloe 💜: 😂 Sorry! But I’m curious what’s your favorite Christmas memory from before? 

Jordan found himself pausing at the keyboard, his mind drifting back to Christmases past. There had been so many family gatherings at his parents’ house, the chaos of wrapping paper and too much food, the comfortable predictability of traditions that stretched back to his childhood. 

Sara 🦊: probably christmas morning when i was like 8. got my first gameboy and played pokemon red all day while my family watched movies. felt so independent 

Chloe 💜: That sounds perfect. I bet this Christmas will have its own kind of magic though. 

From the kitchen came the sound of oven doors opening and closing, followed by Sara’s voice asking about the timing for various Christmas Eve traditions. Jordan realized he might have a few more minutes alone with the conversation. 

Sara 🦊: maybe. its just different when someone else controls everything about your christmas you know? 

Chloe 💜: I can imagine. But Sara really does care about making it special for you. She’s been planning for weeks. 

Sara 🦊: i know she has. i can see how much effort she puts in. sometimes i feel guilty that i cant contribute more 

Chloe 💜: You contribute more than you realize. You make her happy, Jordy. That’s not a small thing. 

Jordan stared at the words on the screen, feeling something shift in his chest. He’d been so focused on what he couldn’t do couldn’t buy gifts, couldn’t prepare meals, couldn’t even wrap his own presents that he’d lost sight of what he could offer. 

Sara 🦊: thank you for saying that. christmas makes everything feel more intense somehow 

Chloe 💜: Holidays have a way of doing that. But they also remind us what really matters. You and Sara have something special. 

The kitchen sounds were growing closer, suggesting Sara’s return was imminent. Jordan quickly typed one more message. 

Sara 🦊: i hope tomorrow is good for all of us. this is my first christmas as part of saras family 

Chloe 💜: It’s going to be wonderful. And Jordy? You ARE family. That’s what makes it special. 

“How’s the Christmas Eve conversation going?” Sara’s voice came from directly above him as she returned to the couch, bringing with her the scent of baking cookies and holiday spices. 

Jordan looked up to see her settling back into her previous position, though she was careful not to disturb him as he finished with her phone. “Chloe and I were talking about Christmas memories,” he said, stepping back from the phone so Sara could reclaim it. 

“Yeah?” Sara asked, switching the phone back to normal mode with a quick gesture. “What kind of memories?” 

“Just thinking about how different this Christmas is from last year,” Jordan said. “But maybe that’s not necessarily a bad thing.” 

Sara’s expression softened as she read through the conversation thread, her eyes moving quickly across the messages they’d exchanged, the Christmas tree lights reflecting in her eyes. 

“Are you okay with how different it is?” she asked, her voice gentle with holiday warmth. 

Jordan nodded, surprising himself with the honesty of his response. “I think I’m starting to understand that different doesn’t have to mean worse. Just… different.” 

Sara smiled, the kind of radiant expression that transformed her entire face and seemed to capture all the magic of Christmas Eve. She carefully scooped him up and settled him back onto her stomach, her fingers resuming their gentle fidgeting pattern. 

“That might be the best Christmas gift you could give me,” she said softly. “Knowing that you’re finding your place in our traditions.” 

Jordan settled into the familiar warmth of Sara’s sweatshirt, feeling the steady rhythm of her breathing beneath him. Outside, the December afternoon was fading toward evening, the golden light slowly deepening toward the rich amber of Christmas Eve sunset. Sara’s father had finally admitted his investment in the Christmas movies by turning up the volume slightly, and from the kitchen came the sounds of final dinner preparations and the gentle hum of holiday music. 

This was his life now measured not in grand gestures or dramatic moments, but in the quiet accumulation of ordinary Christmas Eves, shared conversations, and the gradual understanding that family could take forms he’d never imagined but that felt no less real for their strangeness. 

Chloe 💜: See you tomorrow for Christmas dinner. I can’t wait to celebrate with both of you. ❤️🎄 

Sara glanced down at Jordan with raised eyebrows, silently asking for his thoughts while Christmas lights twinkled around them. 

“Tell her we can’t wait either,” Jordan said, his voice steady and sincere. “Tell her this is going to be a very special Christmas.” 

And as Sara typed the response, Jordan realized that for the first time since his transformation, he genuinely believed it would be. 

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