A Christmas Gift

“C’mon babe, the kids will really get a kick out of seeing Santa this year.”

I was skeptical. “Even if it’s just a Zoom call?”

Mark gave me his patented pouty face and I knew then and there that I was done for. “Especially during a Zoom call. It’s all the interaction they’ve been getting this whole damn year.”

I sighed. I wasn’t really built to play Santa Claus--I’d gained a bit of a pot in my middle age, sure--but if it was for the kids, I just couldn’t say no to them. Or to Mark.

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

“Great! Put this on,” Mark handed me the usual oversized red coat and slacks that anyone would recognize as a Santa costume. “Don’t worry if it doesn’t fit right--we’ll pad you out with some cushions or something.”

“What about the beard?”

“Oh we’ll get to that later.”

And with that Mark departed the bedroom, leaving me to try on the suit. I felt foolish, but then I suppose that was to be expected. This really wasn’t how I pictured my day going.

I stripped to my t-shirt and boxers and tried the suit on. As expected, the coat was several sizes too large and the pants needed the belt cinched as tight as it would go in order to even hang loosely from hips. I looked utterly ridiculous, but maybe a few pillows here and to keep things from falling down.

Then I heard it. A tear. A seam popping loose. A constricting tightness around my chest. Something was wrong. I tried to take the suit off but suddenly my hands couldn’t work the belt buckle and the buttons stubbornly refused to come undone on the jacket. The sensation kept getting worse and worse until finally the sound of tearing fabric came with a sudden, soothing release.

It was my tee. My t-shirt had just ripped up and the loose fabric was now dangling between me and the rest of the suit. But how?

Soon my boxers began exerting the same sensation, but they were made of slightly more elastic material. It was tight, especially around the groin, but having endured the same issue with my t-shirt gave me enough warning not to panic when it happened. Instead, I rushed to the mirror in our closet to see what was going on.

The face I was greeted with wasn’t my own. It was stretched out, wider, with a double chin and short beard that covered far more of my face than I’d ever thought possible. There was a wrinkle forming as the fat of my neck bunched up at the back and where once I’d had the beginnings of crows feet the inflation of my face stretched them taut until they disappeared, making me look somehow more youthful. Well, if you didn’t look at the flecks of grey in my beard.

I couldn’t see underneath the jacket, but I could feel fabric shifting as the rest of me grew along with my face. It was almost like watching an inflatable mattress filling up with air as the wrinkles and folds of the jacket pulled tighter, revealing contours and lines that began defining a much larger man that I’d been. Almost large enough to be Saint Nick himself.

Oh, fuck, I thought. This is going to turn out  to be a Christmas miracle, isn’t it?

I didn’t need to wait long to find out. My pants filled in as my thighs filled out, feet spreading across the floor as they too chubbed up along with the rest of me. I couldn’t see them past the rising mound of my middle, but I could feel them suddenly become ever so slightly padded and squish outward across the floor.

That sensation began to overcome my entire body as it met the limits of the Santa suit. The same constriction that was caused by my t-shirt was back, but it was mitigated by the strength of the suit and the more malleable consistency I’d attained. I felt my stomach heave itself up and over the belt buckle, tits fall into stitching stretched around the jacket’s chest pockets, and ass fill up breaches that seemed tailor made to encompass an ass that seemed larger than two of my former bodies.

And then it was done. I didn’t quite have the long flowing white beard of Santa, but I certainly had the build.

“Aw, shoot, I missed it,” Mark commented from the door. “I found the beard, but maybe we can add that a little later. I’m kinda into the middle-aged bear look.”

I stared at him blankly as he strolled over and began playfully undoing the buttons of my jacket, his much thinner fingers having no trouble with the taut garment. “You did this?”

“Oh yea, this is my Christmas gift to me.” As each button came undone, more and more of my overgrown stomach came spilling outward. Not only had I blown up, I’d also gotten hairier. A lot hairier. Fur covered my chest, stomach, and embarrassingly large mantits.

“Damn babe,” Mark said, kneading a tit in a way that felt far better than I thought it would. “You got a nice rack.”

The final button came away and it was like dropping an overfilled sac on a countertop, only instead of my guts falling out it all just jiggled like a hairy jello container. Mark traced a finger along my massive gut to finally reach underneath and grasp the belt buckle that was holding everything up. With that undone, my middle literally dropped with an almost audible clap and sent ripples through my torso.

“A bit fatter than I’d expected, but I’m not complaining,” Mark commented, a finger now tracing the bottom of my belly and playing leading down to my groin. I felt another lurch down below as internal mechanisms began to operate automatically despite my confusion. Mark was still my partner and he was still touching me in ways that meant only one thing.

Like my feet, I couldn’t see my dick, but It felt like it was at half mast. But then Mark tried to put his hand around it and couldn’t quite encompass it entirely. Was I already hard?

“Oh fuck,” Mark said, answering my question for me. “Santa is hung.”

He tugged me a few times and I could tell I was still a few beats away from being fully hard. I could tell it was as heavy as the rest of me, and it apparently was eager to give Mark the gift he’d been waiting all year for.

Fuck it, I said to myself as I threw Mark to the bed. ‘Tis the season.