Contains: accelerated weight gain, direct encouraging.
This is a real simple story that I started writing on Christmas Day in 2020. Then I suffered from the same loss of motivation to write that plagued me that year. The inauguration this past January has helped, though I’ve been in a Trump-induces state of constant unease for so long that it was hard to relax. But I’m getting there. I’m back to writing every day, and though I’m not up to my previous minimum of 300 words per day, I’m working my way back up there. For now, this story is finally done, continuing my long-standing tradition of posting holiday-themed stories after the holiday that inspired them has passed.
This story was inspired by this drawing by Lokitu. A friend sent me that drawing and suggested I could play the part of aggressive the Santa being fed in that story. But my brain immediately went somewhere else: what if, instead of Santa being fed, Santa was the one doing the feeding? A friend of mine had just brought up one of my oldest stories, The Cookies For Santa, which gave me the idea to flip that title for this story.
One last thing: the idea of Santa being black, and the white Santa we often see being his husband, came from Daniel Kibblesmith on Twitter, and I love it so much that I used it in this story. His husband being gender-nonconforming was my idea.
Kofi plodded his way through his dark apartment to use the restroom. He walked groggily, his feet falling on the floor with a loud thump for every step, as they did when he was barely awake. It was the night of Christmas Eve, and though it would be far from a normal Christmas, he was still looking forward to video chatting with his family and opening the presents they’d mailed him. But first, he had to get back to sleep.
A glance at the clock revealed it was 2:12 AM. After trudging through the dark kitchen, Kofi turned the corner into the living room, which was illuminated only by the lights on his knee-high plastic Christmas tree.
But even that light was enough to reveal that Kofi was not alone in his apartment. A large figure loomed over the tree, silhouetted by the lights. With a yelp, Kofi fumbled at the wall for the lightswitch and turned it on.
The overhead lights revealed that the figure was dressed as Santa Claus, with the red coat, red pants, and a red hat, along with black boots, and a giant brown sack slung over his shoulder. Once he turned around to look at Kofi, Kofi saw that the festively-clad man was wearing his jacket entirely unbuttoned and unbelted. His belly rivaled the size and shape of the sack that hung over his back, bigger than on any depiction of Santa Claus that Kofi had seen before. The sides of his jacket looked like they couldn’t have covered his gut even if he tried to close it.
“I bet you weren’t expecting this,” the man said, his jolly tone indicating no surprise at all at Kofi’s interruption.
“Who are you?! What are you doing here?!” Kofi yelled.
“Ah, come, come, there’s no need to shout. I’m exactly who you think I am, and I’m doing exactly what you think I’m doing.”
Getting a better look at the ostensible Santa Claus, Kofi could see that he kept his beard neatly trimmed. It was still long enough to come down to the center of his chest, where it matches his less kempt chest hair, the white hair contrasting noticeably with his dark skin. That chest looked firm and tight, not the look Kofi would have expected from a man of Santa’s age. He’d been around the gainer scene long enough to know that as men grew older, their chests and bellies usually sagged more. It was one of the trophies of growing old.
But not Santa. His chest was taut like a strongman’s, only a little plumper. But his belly was the real sight to see. It was round like a snowglobe, vast like the skies he flew through, and firm like the coal he left in naughty children’s stockings. As he stood facing Kofi, Kofi could barely see the sides of his jacket from behind the wide expanse of his gargantuan gut. It looked three feet wide and nearly as tall, though Kofi knew his impression may have been exaggerated by the unusual circumstances. He might have compared it to a beer keg, but a keg of spiked eggnog seemed more appropriate.
Once he was able to take his eyes off of Santa’s massive belly, Kofi could see there were indeed a few new presents under his tiny tree. If this was an impersonator, he was awfully dedicated to his con. But that was still more believable than the actual Santa Claus standing in his living room. “How do you expect me to believe you’re really Santa?”
“It is harder to get adults to believe these days,” Santa admitted, his rich baritone putting Kofi at ease in spite of his suspicions. “At least from afar. But this old dog still has some tricks up his sleeves. Do you like peppermint, Kofi?”
“N-not really,” Kofi affirmed, caught off guard that the supposed Santa knew his name.
“How about gingerbread?”
“Yeah… why do you–”
“Then I’m sure you’ll love this.” After lifting his hand, Santa waved his fingers toward Kofi, and bright sparks flew off of them.
Stepping back in surprise, Kofi realized there was something in his right hand. Looking down, he saw he was holding a gingerbread man, decorated in exquisite detail. He looked back up at Santa, his mouth hanging open. “How…”
“Magic, my dear boy. Take a bite, it’ll help ground you.”
In spite of himself, Kofi did as Santa suggested. The cookie was still warm inside, as if it was right out of the oven, and perfectly spiced, with extra cinnamon. The sweet icing provided the perfect counterbalance to the gingerbread, making for a flavor that left Kofi gobbling down the cookie. Before he knew what had happened, it was reduced to crumbs on his lips and a nice feeling in his stomach. “So… you’re really Santa.”
“Are you surprised?”
“I mean, most times I’ve seen a Santa, he was… white.”
“Oh, that’s my husband,” Santa chuckled. “Wonderful fellow.”
“Misses Claus is a Mister?”
“Misses, Mister, they’re not picky.”
“But let’s get down to the matter at hand,” Santa said, stepping a bit closer to Kofi. His expression grew a bit sterner, though his smile was wide as ever.
“The matter at hand?”
“Of course. If I didn’t want you to catch me, I could have slipped in and out of here without issue. I’m here because you’ve been a very good boy this year, and what you asked for is quite reasonable for how good you’ve been.”
“What do you mean “Asked for”? I didn’t write you a letter or anything.”
“No, you didn’t. But I have eyes in a lot of places, Kofi,” Santa assured him. His eyelids lowered and his smile curled up as he continued, “Even in certain niche online communities.”
“Niche online…” Kofi repeated, before his eyebrows shot up and his eyes opened wide. “You don’t mean…”
“I do,” Santa said, his even voice lower than before.
“Is… is that why your jacket is open?”
Santa chuckled as he smacked the side of his belly, the impact reverberating across the massive expanse. “I figured it couldn’t hurt, given that you like a fat feeder.”
“You know what a feeder is?” Kofi stammered.
“I’ve been around for over 1,700 years, Kofi,” Santa chuckled. “I know some things.”
By then, Santa had come close enough to Kofi that their bellies were mere inches apart. In comparison to Santa’s impressive paunch, Kofi looked like a little elf. He’d put on about 100 pounds in his time gaining weight, bulking up from a skinny frame. It left him with a belly that stuck out enough to alter his stride and jiggle as he walked, and a chest that sunk down enough to settle on top. He was a good deal bigger than he’d been when he started, but standing next to Santa wearing only boxers, he looked like he’d just gained his first ten pounds. “I feel so small next to you.”
“You won’t have to worry about that for long. Why don’t you take a seat?” Santa motioned to the couch, which Kofi moved toward as instructed. Upon sitting down, he looked up and saw that Santa looked even bigger than before. Of course, Kofi expected as much; he knew his angles as well as any fat guy who liked showing off. But to see it work in person on a man of Santa’s girth was a sight to behold.
“Yes, yes,” Santa continued, “A boy as nice as you deserves something extra special for Christmas. Why, you even left me milk and cookies! Usually it’s only the parents who do that.”
After a moment of confusion, Kofi looked down at the table in front of his couch. On it was a plate of chocolate chip cookies he’d baked that night from dough in a bag, half of which he’d eaten while watching TV before bed. Next to it was a glass of milk that he’d never gotten around to drinking.
“But I think these’ll look a lot better in you than me.”
Kofi’s eyebrows shot up when he realized what Santa was suggesting. “Oh, um… I–I left the milk out a while ago. I don’t know if it’ll still be any good.”
“Nothing a little festive magic can’t fix.”
With a waggle of his fingers, Santa let sparks fly toward Kofi’s late night snack. Soon they were enveloped in light bright enough that he was forced to cover his eyes. Once the light dimmed, he opened his eyelids carefully, only for them to shoot open fully when he saw what had replaced his snack: a serving platter piled high with swirled butter cookies, and a glass stein of eggnog. “Is all that for me?”
Santa nodded, before reaching down to take a butter cookie in one of his gloved hands. Walking around the table, he made his way to Kofi, until he was standing in front of him. “You want to be fat like this, don’t you?” he asked, pushing his belly forward until it bumped into Kofi’s face.
After regaining his composure, Kofi looked up and answered, “Yes please.”
With a smile, Santa took one of the butter cookies in his hand. They were so wide that he could only hold one, and Kofi wondered if the cookie would even fit in his mouth. He soon got his answer, as Santa said, “Open up,” and stuck the cookie in.
The cookie felt like it could have melted in Kofi’s mouth. After just a few chews, the decadent treat was soft enough for Kofi to swallow. The cookies had been baked with so much butter in them that it was a miracle they held their shape at all. It seemed all it took was the heat of Kofi’s mouth for the cookie to turn back into a batter, rich and buttery and able to slide right down his throat. It was as dense as a batter too, leaving Kofi gasping once he’d swallowed the last of it.
“Good?” Santa asked.
“Absolutely,” Kofi panted.
With a grin, Santa took the stein of eggnog in his hand, before handing it to Kofi with the handle forward. “Something to wash that down. Take a drink when you need a break.”
“Yes sir,” Kofi blurted out.
Santa’s smile turned into a grin as he took two cookies in his hand, one on top of the other. “Now open up, boy.”
Kofi did as instructed without a first thought, let alone a second. Seemingly as soon as his mouth was open, the cookies were inside it. In spite of how full his mouth was, just pushing on the cookies with his tongue seemed to kickstart their softening. A few desperate chews rendered them soft, and he was able to swallow both. Yet he found no respite, as his mouth was filled again, with two more cookies taking up space inside.
Not that Kofi minded. Eagerly, he mashed up the cookies just enough to swallow them, before keenly opening his mouth for more. Santa obliged, shoving the cookies in as quickly as Kofi could swallow them. The two continued until Kofi had lost count of how many cookies he’d eaten.
Soon Kofi was hankering for some of the eggnog. Before swallowing another pair of cookies, he lifted his arm up to signal to Santa that he needed a nog break. But instead of clearing his mouth first, he washed the cookies down with the eggnog.
As rich as the cookies were, he barely noticed the flavor of the eggnog. But once he took a second swig, he could taste the hints of cinnamon and nutmeg, reminding him of the delicious gingerbread man that had started his strange evening. He chugged down a few more gulps of the drink before he lowered the stein.
As soon as he opened his mouth, Kofi found it stuffed with another pair of butter cookies before he could let out a satisfied, “Ah.” His grunt of surprise was muffled by the treats, but he was no less eager to get them both down. In fact, before even chewing them, he took a swig of the eggnog. The eggnog softened the cookies enough that he could nearly swallow them without chewing, requiring only a bit of pressure from his tongue before they were ready to digest.
With this new rhythm, Kofi was able to wolf down the cookies even more quickly than before. Santa seemed to catch on to his new efficiency, for the cookies came faster and faster. As he obediently ate them, Kofi wondered if he’d run out of eggnog to get them down. But it seemed there was enough Christmas magic to prevent that from happening. For after Kofi lifted the stein to empty it of the last if it’s eggnog, he was able to let out a gasp of relief without his mouth being immediately filled with more cookies.
Kofi breathed a few heavy breaths as he lowered the stein onto the couch. His arms went limp as he became acutely aware of just how full he was. His gut weighed heavily on top of his legs like he’d never felt before. The top felt stretched tights like his shirts that he kept from before he started growing. All the cookies and eggnog were like a boulder inside his stomach, and he couldn’t have been happier
“Attaboy. All done.”
“Done?” Kofi repeated as a drop of eggnog ran slowly down his chin.
After being aroused from his fullness-induced stupor, Kofi became aware of another sensation: that of weight and warmth on top of him. Looking forward, he saw Santa’s bowl of jelly resting on top of his belly. Though Santa’s gut was remarkably firm, it still bunched up at the bottom, like his sack of toys as it rested on the floor. That compressed flab rested right at Kofi’s eye level, making it easy for him to admire his festive feeder.
It was so easy that Kofi stared at his belly a while before he realized that, in order for the bottom of Santa’s belly to be resting at his eye level, the top of his own belly would have to be that high too. Upon peering a bit lower, he saw that was exactly the case. “Whoa.”
“Yep,” Santa affirmed with a grin.
As impressively large as Santa’s belly was, Kofi was fairly certain that his was even bigger. Perhaps it was because he was sitting down, forcing it to spread out to the sides when it couldn’t hang lower. Either way, It was wide enough to force his tree trunk thighs apart, while still spilling over them. A feeling of warmth where his legs and his gut touched extended all the way out to his knees. Santa might’ve had enough lap for a kid to sit on, but Kofi certainly didn’t.
As Kofi lifted his arms to rub all of his new belly, he could feel them resting on the side of his chest, itself spilling out with more flab. It was like two pillows on top of a beanbag chair. Reaching down, he could barely grab hold of the bottom of his belly where it met his thighs. Reaching underneath his belly button would have been a lost cause. He could barely see how far of a reach it would’ve been, as his bulging double chin prevented him from looking down too far.
With his belly barely in hand, Kofi looked up and asked, “You did that with just one plate of cookies?”
“Don’t forget the eggnog,” Santa teased.
Looking down to the empty stein, Kofi lifted it up and stared at it. With a smirk, he leaned back and laid it on top of his belly, where it met his chest. He was big enough that he could fit the stein and Santa’s belly on his own. After letting go of the handle, he smiled when he saw that the stein stood in place, wobbling only a little as his gut rose and fell with his breath.
“Bet you didn’t think you’d be getting a new table for Christmas, did you?”
Kofi laughed, causing the stein to teeter even more. He grabbed it by the handle before it could fall over and spill the remaining eggnog on his couch. Santa took the stein in his own hand and placed it back on the table, before placing his hand on top of Kofi’s gut. His glove was remarkably soft, gliding over Kofi’s belly like a cloud. Soon Santa was pressing gently into Kofi’s stomach, the top of which was quite firm with all the cookies and eggnog inside. “Well, well,” he said quietly. “Looks like someone’s filled with holiday cheer.”
“Thanks to you,” Kofi replied with a smile.
“Oh, I only did my part. But now, you need to get back to sleep, young man. You don’t want to be sleeping through Christmas, do you?”
“No, no I don’t,” Kofi said with a smile. “But I’m not sure I can get up.”
“Lend me your hand,” Santa said, extending his own for Kofi to take. Once their hands were locked, Santa pulled back on Kofi as easily as if he were pulling a piece of tinsel off a tree. Kofi rose so quickly he felt as if he would fly forward, knocking Santa and himself on the ground. But Santa stood strong, and stopped Kofi’s movement just as effortlessly as he’d started it.
It took Kofi a moment to regain his bearings now that he was standing up, weighing at least double what he must have weighed when he sat down. With his arms out to the sides and his legs spread wide, he arched his back as he adjusted to his newly-shifted center of gravity. His belly was so massive that, compounded with the heavier breaths he was taking, it rose and fell noticeably in front of him. Looking down with his mouth hanging open as he caught his breath, he was astounded at just how much of him there was now. “This is going to take some getting used to.”
“All things do, even good things,” Santa assured him. “Now, I have other wishes to fulfill tonight. And you need to get some rest. Growing boys need sleep, after all,” he said with a smile, before giving Kofi’s belly a few gentle pats on the side. He then waved goodbye to Kofi as he was surrounded by bright sparks, then a warm light that enveloped him before fading away. Soon Kofi’s living room was lit only by the overhead lights and the lights on his plastic Christmas tree.
Had it only been a few seconds ago that Santa Claus himself stood in Kofi’s living room? The experience seemed unreal without Santa standing right in front of him to refute his doubts. But as he started to waddle toward his bedroom, he knew it had to be real. There was no other way he could have become so fat in one night.
Kofi took short steps as he carried all his new weight back to bed. A quiet thump could be heard every time one of his massive legs landed on the living room floor. He felt his new flab jiggling with every step, as even his careful walk caused his body to bounce. He was forced to lean back to compensate for the new weight of his belly pulling him down. It was, he imagined, similar to the weight of Santa carrying his sack of toys over his shoulder. But he couldn’t put that weight down so easily, nor would he have wanted to.
Once he reached his bed, Kofi turned to face away from it and slowly lowered himself. As all of his new weight came to rest, his bed frame creaked and groaned, but held up against him. Turning to the side, he lay back down, letting out an “Oof” as he felt all his flab come to rest on top of him.
Kofi’s chest was so widespread that his elbows could rest comfortably in the sides of his moobs. He felt his legs pushed apart as his belly pressed down, spreading to the sides of his mattress. His belly felt like several weighted blankets stacked on top of him, spreading in all directions as the flab was pulled down around him. It was like a blanket itself, keeping him warm underneath as it encompassed him.
With a smile, Kofi rocked himself side to side. Even knowing it would be more difficult with his extra weight, he was surprised by just how much more effort it took to move all his mass. But move it he did, and the sea of blubber made waves in front of him. It was mesmerizing to watch, all his flab sloshing to and fro, taking a good few oscillations before it came to rest. As he brought his arms down around the sides of his belly, he was thrilled to realize he couldn’t reach the bottom. He pushed at his gut with alternating motions, reveling in just how much of him there was to play with.
But moving all that flab tired him out. With his hands still happily holding his belly, his eyes slowly closed. Though too tired to jostle his gut, he kept squeezing it, feeling the warm heft under his fingers as he slipped into a peaceful sleep.