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Holiday Special: The Twelve Months of Transformation

[Part 8 of 12]

August

Nick could not shake everything he learned. His life was never gonna be the same. He was paralyzed with information and his life went on hold, as he sorted out his thoughts. The man he never knew but spent his whole life time hating, just changed in his head. All the Christmas presents that said from Santa, really coming from his dad. They were always exactly what he wanted.

As, the month went on all Nick could think about was everything his mother told him of his father and the life they lived together.

His father and mother knew each other from a young age. They went to the same schools. They hung out worh the same friends. They began dating in high-school. Before they left off to college, they already got married. Life was perfect and they were in love like the first day they met. What they wanted above all else was to have a child. Nick's father wanted to be a dad, since he himself was raised without a father.

But, when they both turned 25, the changes started to take affect. They both grew concerned because of what was happening to Nick's father.

His father, learned the truth over time. That his family are the descendants of the original Santa Claus. There must always be a man in the family that takes up the mantle of Santa Claus, if something should happen to the one currently in the role.

Nick realized his life would never be the same, again in a couple of months. He would never be able to live his life, as he planned. He would be up in the north pole as an observer to the world and no longer a participant. It was up to him to be a beacon of hope and good cheer. He wasn't sure if he was ready for this role. But, he knew, deep down, it was a role he had to take no matter if he liked or not. It would be selfish not, too. The world need a Santa Cluas.

Thank you for finding this in full!

Happy Holidays!

Finished version of Gato-Cat / UltraM0th’s Christmas story involving Derek Hale undergoing a The Santa Clause style transformation. Was originally posted last year, but was lost when their old account got deleted. I downloaded and saved a copy of the story before it got deleted, so I figured I’d repost it, so that everyone can enjoy it once again.

Of course, all credit goes to Gato-Cat, so make sure to go and follow them for more great content like this.

@gato-cat​

– – –  

A/N: Here’s a fun Christmas story that plays with the plot of The Santa Clause, but it involves Derek Hale from Teen Wolf turning into the jolly, big guy. I hope that you all enjoy it. And thank you to @writer-ofstuff for helping me bounce off ideas for this!

I hope you all enjoy the holidays!

♡UltraM0th

– – –

“Der!” Stiles hissed under his breath as he shook the werewolf beside him awake. “Wake up!”

“Hrmm?” Derek yawned, tightening his hold on his boyfriend in an attempt to silence him. After weeks of defending Beacon Hills from yet another supernatural threat, the werewolf was relieved that he and Stiles could spend their first Christmas together as a couple in peace.

“No, no, no!” Stiles panicked, his heartbeat really high. “I heard something walking around on the roof.”

The alpha werewolf immediately shot up and instinctually shoved the small human behind him, straining his ears. Sure enough, he could hear heavy footsteps on top of his repaired house, the wood creaking as it seemed to support something’s weight.

“Stay here,” Derek growled to his boyfriend as he stormed out of the bedroom and hurried downstairs. He made sure to flex his massive muscles in an attempt to look all the more threatening. Given his alpha status and his regular workouts, Derek Hale’s physique was blessed with muscles that popped and oozed masculinity. His massive pecs were puffed out as he bared his teeth, stalking out onto the snow-covered front lawn.

The werewolf sniffed at the wintery air, catching a whiff of what he thought was cinnamon and sugar— something disgustingly sweet, making him recoil at the scent.

Peering up into the night sky, Derek could barely make out the large silhouette of someone skulking around on the rooftop, heading towards the chimney.

“Hey!” Derek roared up at the unknown figure, using his booming alpha voice to scare it. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

The shadowed figure up on the roof jerked back in shock at the alpha’s baritone, quickly losing its footing and tumbling down the icy roof, falling to the ground with a loud thud. Derek slowly approached the figure, his fighting stance ready, as he took in the sight of whatever it was that had fallen from his roof. The figure was cloaked in a large red fabric that had white trimming. Its overwhelming sugary scent made sense a little bit when Derek took in the fact that the creature was rather large, and based on the slight jiggle its body had upon impact, there was a large amount of fat on it. There was white curly hair that obscured its face… no way.

“Derek!” Stiles gasped as he rushed outside, a baseball bat in his hands, pausing when he took in the sight before him. “You killed Santa Claus!”

The werewolf looked back to meet his boyfriend’s horrified eyes, instantly growing defensive. “I did not!” he countered. “The guy fell on his own!”

“I’m still alive, Mieczysław,” the injured Santa Claus muttered face down in the snow. With a grunt, the old man turned over onto his back. “Now if I could get some help, that would be nice.”

Derek looked over at the red-faced Stiles at the mention of his first name, but before he could ask, his boyfriend held up a hand.

“We should help him inside,” Stiles hurriedly said as he dropped the bat and rushed forward to help drag Santa inside the house.

Derek huffed, but nevertheless helped his boyfriend, winding up doing most of the work. He plopped Santa Claus onto the couch in the living room, struggling to put two and two together.

“So, uh,” Derek mumbled as he paced the living room, “you’re real?”

The supposed fairy tale man chuckled, even going so far as to grab the sides of his jiggling gut. “Of course I’m real, Derek,” Santa Claus laughed. “You’d think that in a world with werewolves that Santa Claus would exist too, right?”

“He does have a point,” Stiles chimed in as he entered the living room to hand the jolly old man a cup of coffee. “So does this mean that Krampus is real too? Because I’ve read about him before and he sounds really creepy and like something I’d like to avoid.”

“Yeah, he’s down the block,” Santa said, ignoring the look of fear on the human’s face. “However, we have bigger issues afoot. With me injured right now, I need someone to help deliver the rest of the presents in my sleigh.” He looked at the alpha werewolf with expectant eyes.

Derek wanted to argue but Stiles also looked at him with the same expression, and he felt his resolve quickly melt. “Fine,” he grunted. “What do I have to do?”

Santa Claus smiled and took off his trademark hat, shucking his redcoat as well. “First, put those on,” he instructed.

Derek did as he was told, sliding on the massive coat that was three sizes too big for him, making it look like he was swimming in the soft fabric that actually felt good against his bare chest. Lastly, he put on the hat.

“Now, eat this,” Santa said as he pulled a gingerbread cookie out of his pocket. “It will transfer some of my powers to you.”

With a huff, Derek took the offered cookie and quickly ate it, a little surprised at how good it was considering that it’d come from an old man’s pocket. “Okay, now what?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. There was a slight itchy sensation around his face and he reached up to scratch his beard… wait.

Derek gasped as he ran his hands over his face, feeling the beard that had seemingly sprouted out of nowhere. The shocked werewolf darted over towards a mirror and looked in it, paling when he saw the beard that now dominated the lower half of his face. It wasn’t as bushy as the titular Santa Claus’s, but it definitely looked like it would’ve taken about a year for the man to grow. It was still his usual black, yet there were trace flecks of white that he could see in it.

“What the hell is this?” Derek demanded, turning around and pointing at his face, even stomping his foot out of irritation. That last action made him wince when he felt an unfamiliar jiggling at his gut.

Derek looked down in time to see his body quickly inflating, with most of the growth centered around his stomach. His abs filled in before his stomach was flat, which then pushed outwards. His gut grew larger and rounder, jutting away from his torso until it completely filled the red coat he was wearing, making it the perfect fit. Even his pecs inflated, filling up with fat until he had sizable muscletits that weren’t just toned. Derek was slightly relieved to see that he still retained all of his hard-earned muscles, they were just covered by a thick layer of fat, making him look more like a beefy version of Santa Claus. His arms followed suit, losing their definition as they packed on more meat. He blushed furiously as his thighs widened and he felt his ass puff out and get more jiggly, stretching the confines of his sweatpants to the limit.

Once his transformation was done, Derek stood in shock for a moment as he examined his newly inflated form.

“What the fuck did you do to me?!” he shouted as he tried to stalk threateningly over towards the couch, but he inwardly flinched when he felt his new gut jiggling with every step he took.

Santa Claus didn’t look fazed and instead snapped his fingers. “You better hurry up,” he said. “There’s a lot of houses I haven’t gotten to yet.”

Before he could argue some more, Derek felt an unknown force yanking him towards the chimney. He was glad that there wasn’t a fire in there because said force tugged him into the actual fireplace, squeezing his new bulk through the chimney with such ease he might as well have been greased. It spat him out onto the roof and once he saw the sleigh and the reindeer, he knew just what he’d gotten himself into. The sleigh was just as he’d seen on Christmas cards, being red with golden trim. In the back was a large white sack that was loosely tied at the top with various toys sticking out of the opening.

“This is gonna be a long night,” the bulky werewolf sighed as he hopped into the sleigh, wincing as he felt his inflated gut settle into place on his lap.

There was a metallic clang followed by the huffing of Stiles climbing a ladder. He made it to the rooftop, clad in a thick winter coat and sweatpants. “Wait up!” he gasped. “I’m coming with you!”

Derek looked at the falling snowflakes and shook his head, the white pompom on the Santa hat waving around like crazy from the motion. “No way,” he grunted. “It’s below freezing, you’ll catch a cold.”

“I’ll just huddle up next to you,” Stiles countered as he started to climb inside the sleigh.

The inflated werewolf knew it was no use arguing with his stubborn boyfriend. “Fine,” he muttered, scooting over to the side of the sleigh to make room.

Stiles squeezed himself inside the sleigh, one side pressed against the hardwood of the sleigh and the other squishing into the sides of Derek’s new bulk. “Um, can you scoot over a little bit?” he asked. “There’s barely any room.”

The blush on Derek’s bearded face deepened to match his coat. “I’m already all the way over to the other side,” he growled. The werewolf tried to shift over some more, his inflated bulk jiggling wildly as he tried to make room. However, his widened hips were already pressed against the other side of the sleigh. His rotund gut took up the most room and it felt really heavy on top of him, impeding most of his movements. With an annoyed grunt, the werewolf maneuvered a heavy arm over the human’s smaller shoulders and pressed him against his squishy bulk in an effort to make more room.

Stiles grabbed a hold of the reins and yanked on them. “Mush!” he excitedly yelled out… but the sleigh stayed put.

One of the reindeer even looked over its shoulder at him and snorted.

“I think it has to be me,” Derek sighed, taking the reins from the disappointed Stiles. As soon as they were in his beefy hands, the sleigh lurched forward as they flew off the roof and into the night sky.

Out of instinct, Stiles tried to wrap his arms around Derek as they flew, but he couldn’t wrap his arms around even a third of the chubby version of his boyfriend. However, that brought about another issue to the alpha werewolf.

He fought a hiss at the feeling of the much smaller Stiles squeezing against his large gut, the action sending foreign shivers of pleasure throughout him. He hadn’t noticed until he saw it curling over the opening of the coat, but even his chest hair had grown in during his transformation, making him look like a total bear. The hairs only served as pleasure receptors, amplifying the intense feelings he had as Stiles brushed up against his sensitive chest and gut. He couldn’t tell if the nubs poking against the coat caused by his larger nipples were from the blistering cold or from excitement. The way his cock was hardening (and totally concealed by his cresting gut) told Derek that it was the latter.

Derek was embarrassed at first because of his sudden one-hundred pound weight gain, but now he was utterly distraught to find that his new gut was incredibly sensitive. A small part of him was relieved when the reindeer landed on another rooftop, but a louder part was disappointed when Stiles let go of him, leaving behind tingling want all over his jiggling mass.

Still struggling to make sense of what was going on, Derek climbed out of the sleigh, having an awkward time getting used to walking around with thighs that kept pushing against each other and a gut that jiggled with every step. He grabbed the sack from the sleigh and waddled over to the chimney, stuffing it down first.

The alpha werewolf then positioned himself on top of it and started to go down feet first. He managed to fit his thick thighs and widened hips in, thankfully squeezing his bubblebutt inside too. However, Derek groaned loudly when his large gut got wedged in the chimney, making him stuck.

“You’ve got to be shitting me!” Derek roared out in frustration. “What’s the point of making me grow this!?” He gestured at his large gut as he tried to wiggle himself free.

“The only thin Santas you see are in porn?” Stiles meekly offered as he hopped out of the sleigh to try to help. “Try sucking it in.”

“I am sucking it in,” Derek growled, his gut far to large to make his efforts noticeable.

It took a bit of maneuvering and dedication, but the Santa Derek eventually managed to squeeze himself through the chimney—thanks to Stiles’s suggestion of thinking “Jolly Thoughts” so as to give more into the Santa role. He’d thought that it was stupid, but humored him anyway, only to be sucked down the chimney in an instant.

“That was weird,” Derek huffed as he found himself standing in the living room of the unknown house. Wanting to waste no time at all in case someone sees him (or worse recognizes him and laughs at the fact that he’d been turned into Santa Claus) he quickly went to literally throwing the toys out of the bag and aiming them at the Christmas tree. It wasn’t long until the bag was empty, which he automatically knew somehow that it would magically refill at the next house.

Derek breathed a sigh of relief and went to head back towards the chimney when the delicious aroma of sugar wafted by his nostrils, making his big stomach growl hungrily.

The werewolf turned to look in the direction of the scent, rolling his eyes when he saw the plate of cookies and the glass of milk that was on the coffee table. As soon as he made eye contact with the cookies, his stomach growled even louder.

“Really?” he whined, even grabbed at his protruding gut in irritation. “I don’t even like sweets.”

His stomach growled much louder now and he worried that it’d wake up the occupants in the house.

“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath as he waddled towards the coffee table. The cookies looked like they were from a holiday collection from the grocery store, containing an array of sugar cookies iced and decorated to look like trees, snowmen, etc. Derek could feel himself drooling as he stared at them and he picked up a snowman shaped cookie, taking one bite of it.

As soon as his tongue tasted the sweet sugar of the cookie, he couldn’t stop himself from greedily scarfing the rest of it down. In a frenzy, the werewolf bent over and hungrily ate the rest of the cookies, barely able to control himself enough to pocket one for Stiles, before downing the glass of milk.

His stomach felt satisfied and Derek patted it contently, noting that it had bloated the smallest bit from his quick eating, looking slightly rounder. “Of course…” he grunted as he rolled his eyes for the thousandth time that night. He turned to leave, but his protruding gut knocked over the standing lamp that he was next to, making it crash to the ground. He quickly waddled back over to the fireplace and was sucked up through the chimney, landing gracefully on his feet on the roof.

“How’d it go?” Stiles excitedly asked.

“It was fine,” Derek muttered. “Oh… here.” He handed his boyfriend the cookie before settling back into the sleigh. Again, he fought back a moan as Stiles settled back into place and snuggled up against his sensitive bulk. He wrapped his arm around the human and they took off to the next house.

“Der,” Stiles said, looking up the werewolf Santa Claus, “you have cookie crumbs in your beard.”

The rest of night followed the similar pattern: Derek would nearly blow a load in his pants over having Stiles rub up against his sensitive bulk, he would be sucked down into a chimney, he would place the gifts under the tree, he’d gobble up every last cookie that was left for Santa Claus, he would get sucked back up the chimney to the roof, and he would get excited at the idea of Stiles rubbing up against his gut again. By the end of the night, Derek had fallen into that routine and had completed every house without an issue—except for Scott’s where Scott had woken up and had laughed at the Santa Derek with the jiggling gut and bushy beard, making Derek growl and storm out the front door instead of taking the chimney.

Despite that, Derek started to look forward to the times when he and Stiles would be flying through the air and the latter would press against his bulk. When they’d flown through the cold Finnish airspace, Derek had opened up his coat to let Stiles use his body heat, and he’d came on the spot at having the human nuzzle against his hairy gut and inflated pecs. Stiles was none the wiser, happily enjoying the ride and experience, all the while Derek was humiliated beyond belief, thankful that his new beard hid most of his blush.

– – –  

Finally, as soon as the sun was beginning to rise, Santa Claus was starting to feel better as he relaxed in the Hale House.

The inflated werewolf plopped out of the fireplace and tumbled onto the living room floor, groaning as he rested on his back, completely exhausted from his busy night of having to deliver presents to all the children of the world.

“Derek!” Santa cheerfully greeted him. “How was it?”

The stunned werewolf grunted and rubbed the tiredness away from his eyes. “Damn,” he grunted, “that was definitely an experience.” He tore the hat away from his head and stood up to take off Santa’s coat, frowning at the sight of his inflated, hairy body.

After a few seconds, Stiles hurried inside the house through the front door, still all smiles. “That was amazing!” he said.

Santa Claus smiled warmly at the werewolf before standing up. “Thanks a lot for your help, Derek,” he chuckled. “I’ll make sure to add you to the Nice List.”

“Wow, that’s super awesome,” Derek mocked. “Now change me back!” He gestured down at his gut which blocked the rest of his view of his lower body.

Santa Claus shrugged his coat back on. “Sorry Derek,” he said as he pulled his hat on. “There is no antidote for that, but maybe I can call on you for help next Christmas?” The magical man gave the couple a wink before disappearing up the chimney in a flash, leaving no chance for argument.

Derek felt his new gut drop at what he’d just heard. Not only was he stuck with the beard and the sensitive gut, but he was expected to help out and be Replacement Claus next year too? “You’ve got to be shittin’ me,” Derek growled as he grasped at his hairy gut, giving it a tentative poke. He was panicking over how much his life was going to change by being the werewolf Santa Claus when he caught another whiff in the air, this one emanating from his boyfriend who stood beside him.

Stiles was turned on.

“Really?” Derek asked, cocking his eyebrow at the human as he gestured at his gut and beard. “This does it for you?”

Stiles blushed a little bit and had a hard time maintaining eye contact with the beefy werewolf. “I like my men big and hairy,” he quietly admitted.

Now Derek may have loved to work out and loved to use his large muscles to his advantage, intimidating any threat that dared to cross into his territory, but he loved Stiles even more. Therefore, the sight of his boyfriend blushing made his heart flutter and the werewolf started to realize that maybe being beefy and hairy wouldn’t be too bad… especially if he could get Stiles to rub up against his gut some more.

“Well,” Derek blushed back, wrapping an arm around his boyfriend’s waist to pull him in close to his inflated form, squeezing him tightly against his new hairy gut enjoying the way it immediately made his cock rock hard, “ho, ho, ho.”

Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

Here's a quick rendering of everyone's favorite grumpy werewolf turning into Santa Claus, complete with a big, hairy belly!

The Night Before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse... you were all alone for the holidays. While your friends managed to get home and were with their families or decided to spend the night partying until sunrise, you were stuck alone at home. This wasn't your plan for this year. Your stupid boss wouldn't let you take off the day before, so you had to work on Christmas Eve. You had planned on flying back home to your family after work had finished, but a surprise snowstorm canceled your flight back home, and you had no way of getting there. While your parents were obviously upset that you wouldn’t be joining them, they couldn’t be angry at you, because it wasn’t your fault. You couldn't control the weather. 

Trying to find something to keep you occupied, you had spent the evening baking cookies for Santa Claus. Obviously, you were old enough to understand that Santa didn’t exist, but you had baked cookies for him every year with your mother since you were a kid, and Christmas Eve would feel incomplete without the smell of freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies. However, once the baking was done and the kitchen was cleaned, the silence that filled your house was deafening.

Placing the tray of cookies and a cold glass of milk by the fireplace, you poured yourself a large glass of eggnog and headed into your bedroom to put on a Christmas movie on your laptop. Maybe watching other people in the festive spirit will bring you some joy. Scrolling through all of the streaming services you had, you were unsatisfied with the array of films. You had seemingly seen everything. Finally, you stumbled upon that old 90s movie with Tim Allen, The Santa Clause. The idea of this toy salesman turning into Santa and learning the true meaning of Christmas was so insane! But nonetheless, you remember liking the movie when you watched it many years ago, so you decided to press play. As the movie played, you continued to drink your eggnog. Eventually, you finished your first glass and went back to get a second. With every sip of the eggnog, you found yourself becoming more and more relaxed. The movie was funny enough, but you found your eyes gradually getting heavier. Slowly, everything faded to black.

Cough cough 

You awoke suddenly to the sound of coughing. You jolted upwards. Your laptop was still warm on your legs, and the movie was still playing; it was only halfway finished. Throwing your computer off to the side, you hurriedly stumbled out of bed to see what was happening. As you turned the corner, you saw it. There, standing in your living room, was some fat old guy dressed as Santa Claus. In one hand was one of the cookies you had baked earlier, and the other was clawing at his throat. His cough had stopped, but he was still gasping for air. He was choking. Before you had time to react, his knees gave out and he stumbled backward, landing on the floor. His massive body shook the house, and then, everything was still. It was silent. He wasn’t moving. Stepping forward and raising your foot, you tried to nudge him, to see if he was still alive. Instead of meeting his leg, your foot seemed to move right through him, instead catching the fabric of his red suit. Before your very eyes, this dead man who had broken into your house seemingly dissolved into thin air. All that was left of him was the half-eaten cookie and his outfit.

You had to call the police. A man had just broken into your house. Running to your counter and grabbing your cell phone, you raced to the front door to see that it was locked. Running to the side windows, you saw that they were… locked. Walking to the back door, sure enough, it was locked too. Looking at your alarm system, you saw that it was armed. How did this guy get into your house? You put your phone down. Walking back into your living room, you stepped over the red suit and stuck your hand up the chimney. Sure enough, the flue was open. Oh my god. Did the real Santa Claus just choke on your cookies?

Now what? You definitely can’t call the police. They wouldn’t believe you that Santa just died in your room and his body vanished. Sure, you were a little tipsy from the eggnog, but knew what you saw. No one would believe you, still. Hell, you wouldn’t have believed yourself! It sounded like something directly out of a Christmas movie.

You paused. Like something out of a Christmas movie. Looking down at the outfit the fat old man had just been wearing, you thought back to the movie you were watching. It could have been the eggnog talking, but why couldn’t you just try his clothes on? I mean what was there to lose? It’s not like there was actually a dead person in your living room; only his clothes.

Looking at his hat, that had once been on his head, you picked it up and placed it onto your coffee table. You sat on your couch to deliberate what your next course of action should be: call the police or try on Santa’s clothes. Staring at this hat and looking beyond at the full outfit which lay strewn on the floor, you made up your mind. If nothing else, maybe this will put you in a festive mood.

Standing up and placing the hat on your head, you instantly were overcome by an intense gurgling in your stomach. You felt so incredibly bloated. You rubbed your hands on your stomach, only to feel it rapidly expanding outwards in front of you. Bringing your hands to your chest, you felt it sag as your pecs grew into mounds of fat drooping from your torso.

Your ass grew enormous, stretching the fabric of your pants and tearing the seams. Falling backward onto your couch, you heard as the legs buckled under your growing weight. Your thighs splayed further and further outward, ripping your pants and pushing your legs farther and farther apart. Your fingers swelled into large sausages and your feet grew massive. 

The hair across your body lightened to a gray, before becoming as white as snow. Your upper lip itched as white hairs pushed their way out, growing long and meeting up with the hairs forcing their way from your chin. Soon, you sported a large, white, bushy beard. Wrinkles began etching their way across your face and body as you aged rapidly. Standing up from the couch, you stumbled as your center of gravity changed with your massive weight gain. Slowly, you managed to bring your body to the clothes of the former Santa Claus. Reaching down and grabbing the fabric, you pulled your blubberous legs through the velvet pants, shoving your giant feet into the brown leather boots. You lifted the heavy suit jacket over your shoulders and massive beach-ball stomach, before adorning it with a buckled belt. You brought your massive fingers into the white gloves and lifted his glasses onto your face.

You looked exactly like him. You were the spitting image of Santa Claus. Looking at the tray of cookies that you had baked earlier and the big guy had just choked on, you decided it’d be best to pass on the cookies tonight. Instead, you turned towards the chimney, ready to get back to your sleigh and deliver the rest of the presents before sunrise. Bringing festive cheer and joy to the world was enough to make an old man like you laugh gaily with glee:

Ho, Ho, Ho!