For those without family and friends to spend Christmas with, there’s a watering hole down the road from my apartment called Suds and Spuds that hosts a Holiday dinner for lonely souls like myself. The owner Al—a good friend of mine—serves up generous portions of ham and veggies with a side of his famous fries. I’ve gone the past six years, but last year brought on something I was not accustomed to: female attention.

My inability to make eye contact with a woman is a result of years of low self-esteem. Overweight and balding since the age of seventeen, two decades of being invisible in the public led to an isolating lifestyle of overeating and embarrassment. So, when Eden approached me from the end of the bar, I sunk further into my shell, pretending to not notice her.

“Hello handsome, looks like you could use the company. I sure can. No fun being alone on Christmas,” she said, inches from my face.

I quickly put a hand in front of my mouth in a desperate attempt to cover the reeking smell of salted peanuts and beer burps. She pulled my hand away and held it gently.

“You’re a quiet one, aren’t you? That’s okay, nothing to be ashamed of. I think you’re rather cute, so if you are up for it, I’d love to chat.”

The bar stool nearly collapsed when my body jerked up in response to her a complement. A complement on my appearance, the first of its kind. Her one statement turned my entire year around in a flash.

“I’m Dean, nice to meet you. I’m sorry if I was a little slow to respond, just haven’t talked to a woman in a long time.”

For the next hour plus, my attention remained on Eden. No distractions. No going to the bathroom. Even when Al brought me another cold one, my eyes stayed locked on Eden. She was gorgeous, too beautiful for a pitiful-looking guy like me. When she invited me to her place, I nearly passed out. I figured the odor from my armpits might send her in the opposite direction, but she clung on to my arm like we had been dating for years.

Her house was picture-perfect. Not a speck of dust. Every piece of furniture looked brand new. A giant, cozy fireplace, which she promptly turned on as we settled down on her couch. When she rearranged the firewood, I pinched myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. My confidence soared.

“You know, I always imagined having a family, sitting right here, watching them dump their stockings out on Christmas morning while I sipped on my coffee. But it just didn’t work out for me. Being here tonight though with you, this is pretty special.”

Where were these words of mine coming from, I thought to myself. Who had I become? Eden wrapped her arm around me and leaned into my ear.

“We can make a family together. I like you. I really like you,” she whispered with a sexy voice.

Eden climbed onto my lap and pressed her lips against my sweaty mouth. She rode me through the night, providing me with pleasure beyond my wildest, perverted imagination. Our steamy session concluded with us passed out in our arms, holding each other.

The morning sun tickled my double chin and woke me to the sight of Eden hovering over me, wide-eyed with excitement.

“Look what is dangling from the fireplace,” she said, moving to the side.

A red Christmas stocking hung from the fireplace.

“Go ahead, reach inside. It’s a Christmas miracle, as you people like to say.”

I stood up, stumbling a bit due to an unexpected rumbling in my stomach. A queasy feeling shot through me. When I reached my hand inside the stocking, I felt something moving, pulsating. I peered inside cautiously. A milky cocoon-like object the size of a baked potato twitched.

“What is it?” I asked, puzzled.

“He’s ours. We made him.”

I pulled the clump out and froze. My jaw dropped. Five tiny eyes poked through the skin of the gunk. A tail shot through the bottom and whipped back and forth along my palm.

“You’re his father, his daddy as you humans like to say,” Eden said, giggling with joy.

I was about to fling it into the fire when Eden stopped me. “I wouldn’t do that. It will just make it worse for you!” she yelled.

Eden brought the thing against my chest. “He’s connected to you now.”

I looked down at my stomach. Green, veiny lines swirled around against my skin.

“I think he’s ready for his first meal. You better feed him.”

The thing in my hands latched onto my skin like a leech, slurping up green liquid through little holes it had created. I screamed, but the thing only strengthened its latch on me. By the time the feeding was over, my stomach was considerably thinner. Eden took the gunk and wrapped it in a towel. I fell back on the couch.

Whatever Eden had implanted in me, now controlled me. I tried to leave the house, but a strong urge to stay and take care of the thing reeled me back into Eden’s arms. We were family, and deep down, I hated it. Hated what I had become. But I knew I had to stay. If I stepped out, the bond would be broken, and I might end up dead.

So here I am a year later. I haven’t left Eden’s house. She doesn’t know I’m sharing this with you. If she finds out, things might not end well for me. But at least I have a family now, right? I don’t know if I need someone to send help. I’m happy, right? My new son will be opening a stocking in a few weeks, just liked I had dreamed of. I don’t know who I am anymore. Maybe Al will read this.