Santa Bear

“Open that one!” Haley said. She smiled, “it’s from me.”

Damien gave his girlfriend a passionate kiss. It was their first Christmas together on their own, and they’d spent it like any reasonable, beautiful young couple would: by fucking the shit out of each other.

Needless to say, presents weren’t a priority. But they weren’t out of the equation. Damien got his girl a set of lingerie (which he hoped to see in action later that night), and now Haley was handing him a small bag he could tell contained some article of clothing.

“A Santa hat?” Damien said, lifting the red cap from the bag, the white cotton fuzz glowing in the morning light.

“For my big Santa bear,” she said softly, caressing this lean muscular chest. Fuck, he was getting horny again. He couldn’t wait until he got her in that skimpy pink underwear, on her back in bed, and begging for his cock.

He placed the hat on his head. The cotton felt strangely—yet comfortably—warm on his forehead. “Well,” he said with a grin, “I put on mine… why don’t you put on yours?”

Haley spun around and grabbed the lingerie. Damien gave her ass a playful slap, and he thought he saw her blush as she strutted off to the bedroom.

Damien heard the door shut. He reached for the hat. Cute as she thought he looked in it, there was something odd about the way it fit on his head. As if it was just a little too tight, hugging his head a little too comfortably.

But when he tried to take it off, he realized… he couldn’t. Literally. He could not take it off. And it wasn’t that it was fused to his head either; it was as if his own body were stopping him from grabbing the hat pulling it off.

“Um… honey?”

He tried to grab at it, but his hands missed it every time. Worse was the fact that whatever strange warmth was trickling down through the rest of his body, rolling off his muscles like water.

“Calm down!” Haley called out in response, “I’m almost done!”

But Damien didn’t want her to see him like this; sweating, grabbing at his head and… growing??

“Whoa—“ Damien stumbled back. Sure enough, his body was getting bigger. Much, much bigger. And not just his muscles, which seemed to be swoler than after a hard pump at the gym. The body fat he’d spent so many months dieting away was creeping back in, pushing him over from “buff” into “brutish.”

Oh god, he thought, Haley can’t see me like this! But Haley was the least of his problems. His biceps were beefing up like two Christmas hams, and his six pack was vanishing under a tubby gut of impossibly thick muscle and fat.

“Almost done!” Haley called. But Damien’s transformation was only beginning.

The next wave of warmth from the hat brought with it a carpet of black hair. Damien’s face itched as his dashing 5 o’clock shadow sprouted into a full beard, and a jungle of coarse scruff erupted atop his two pillow pecs.

“Fuck me,” Damien grumbled in a voice that was way too deep to be his own. Each pound of muscle added another year or so, until he looked less like a 23-year-old Calvin Kline model and more like a 35-year-old lumberjack. Where did Haley get this hat??

Damien began to imagine what she would think when she walked out of the bedroom. Would she still find him attractive? Would he still find her attractive? The more he thought about his girlfriend, dressed in that skimpy piece of clothing he bought her, the less appealing she seemed.

Fuck, am I becoming gay?! The second the thought entered his mind, yet another wave of warmth trickled throughout his being, and down to his cock, which hardened in his red pajama pants. Images of hot guys in compromising positions filled his minds eye as he got hornier and hornier, memories of his life as a straight man—his life with Haley—vanishing in a flash.

“Still… straight… still… UNF!”

He grunted as his pajamas turned into a pair of Lycra briefs, cherry red and sporting a colossal, throbbing bulge. A straight man wouldn’t be caught dead in these, Damien thought. Nor would he be caught dead in the leather straps which secured themselves firmly around his wrists and his biceps, exaggerating his size even further.

Damien gave his arm a little flex. “Woof,” he grunted with a smile. He was a specimen of pure masculinity, 250 pounds of hair, fat and muscle built to fuck. He slapped his bicep and gripped his cock though the Speedo, thinking about all the guys he was going to plow this Christmas.

The bedroom door opened. Out stepped Haley in her pink lingerie. “Hey Santa bear,” she said seductively, “are you ready for this—hey wait… who the fuck are you?”