The Spirit of Giving

You'd had no illusions about how risky life on a North Atlantic trawler would be, but this was the only job left where you could entirely leave your old life behind. Working hard, the cold, the separation from the modern world - it suited you.

You were returning to Newfoundland with almost full stocks of cod when the squall started. In almost zero visibility your boat hit an iceberg and capsized. You'd managed to get most of the crew into lifeboats when the deck was torn away from under your feet and you plunged into the icy water. Your lungs filled with freezing ocean and death seemed to claim you. Your final thoughts were that you'd tried hard, and that at least this would be quick.

In a small, warm room, you awoke under a pile of blankets. Somehow you'd been rescued! Groggily you tried to get a sense of where you were, and you could hear high-pitched voices just beyond a door. The door opened and three people walked in and approached the bed. Your vision cleared and you gasped as you realised they were elves - Christmas elves. Small, squeaky, pointy-eared, androgynous, pale elves dressed in green and red. Was this a joke? They talked among themselves in a language you couldn't understand, their faces full of concern, before one nodded and produced a steaming cup of fragrant tea.

They offered it to you and you accepted, your still numb hands wrapping around it carefully as you sipped. They spoke to you in that strange language, but as the spicy, warming drink flowed down your throat and into your stomach their words seemed to resolve themselves into something familiar, as if a radio were being tuned in.

You heard one say, "you can understand us now?" 

"Yes," you replied, "I understand now. Where am I? What happened?"

"We found you in the water - only a single spark of your life remained. We brought you here to save your life. There was no choice. Unfortunately there is now no way for you to return home. You're in a region of Lapland which is hidden to mankind. It's called St Nicholas's Land."

"St Nicholas? Lapland? You have to be joking," you say, shaking your head. But looking at them, at the cosy rustic room, you had to admit it was a very well done prank. You swung your feet out of bed and unsteadily stood - and realised you were twice the height of any of your saviours. Despite that, you were dressed in one of their red and green tunics, and striped woollen leggings. They were warm and comfortable.

"They're the only clothes we have. Fortunately we're good at making things and were able to scale up." Peering out through the window, you could only see a featureless expanse of snow.

"You're really Santa's elves?"

"It's true," they said. "We're Santa Claus' little helpers - but there's something we can't help him with. So we need to ask you for something in return for saving your life."

You thought for a moment. You certainly owed them for saving you from what seemed like a certain death. "Go on."

"Santa is lonely. He had a wife, but she passed away a long, long time ago. He's been on his own for over a hundred years. There are no other humans here, as none are permitted to leave. His work is suffering - he needs a friend."

"I could be Santa's friend," you smiled. "I don't mind the cold or being a bit isolated. I can help - I like to work. And to be honest - I'd help Santa even if I didn't owe you. It just seems like the right thing to do." You scooped the elf hat off the bedpost and put it on your head. "What do I need to do?"

"Er..." One elf shrugged and giggled. "Drink the tea and put on the cap?" 

You laughed in return, but your voice came out strange... High pitched. "What the - you're turning me into one of you! What's the point of that!"

"No... Don't panic! You'll still be human! But the magic here is changing you - you are to be a gift to Santa."

You watched in fascination as you shrank, your hands and feet slimming down into a shape more dainty and feminine. You were much shorter now, down from over six feet to only just five. Your shoulders, chest and waist contracted as your hips flared, your ass bulging within the leggings. Deep within you, you felt something open up, and searching between your now thick thighs you found no trace of your cock or balls. Pulling up the tunic, you slipped a hand down the front of the leggings and discovered your new, furred, plump pussy, opening to your fingers as they stroked.

The elves blushed as you moaned in pleasure. Your face softened and widened, high cheekbones standing out as your mouth became generous and wide. Soon there was no trace of the rough fisherman the elves had saved. Was that it though? No... A deep breath as you brought your fingers back up and over your hard little clitoris filled your smaller lungs with air, and your ribcage swelled. When you exhaled, and your chest contracted again, the tunic was no less empty. Your breasts were growing.

With a perverse pleasure you began to finger fuck yourself as the tunic tented out. Peaks became mounds, became large heavy tits, became enormous taut spheres that jostled for space against one another inside your clothes, nipples and areolae pulled wide.

You arrived at a shuddering climax as your huge breasts completed their growth, the orgasm rippling through your system and into your brain. Oxytocin bathed your brain, leaving you with a feeling of gentleness and goodwill that would always remain with you. You withdrew your cum-soaked hand from your leggings and smiled at the elves.

"Look at the size of those puddings," whimpered one elf.

"Now Mary," said another to you. "Shall we get you ready to meet Nicholas?" They led you to another room and got you cleaned and changed, and then wrapped in a long woollen cloak you boarded a sleigh and rode together over the ice to a modest but pretty cottage, laden with snow.

The elf knocked on the door and opened it. "Father Christmas, I have a visitor for you," he called.

"Hello there, Dingle," said a voice from the next room and the elf led you through to a cosy living room. A large man rose from a chair, and you thrilled to see what the real St Nick was really like. He was tall, perhaps six and a half feet, and broad, but instead of being rotund he had the powerful build of a woodsman. His midriff was more of a powerlifter's gut than a soft paunch, and his arms were thick with muscle. He had the white beard, but it was rather more fetching and trimmed than you expected. Behind it his soft brown skin showed his Greek origins, and his brown eyes were kind and gentle. It was hard to believe he was 1750 years old - he looked more like a hot 55 year old hipster DILF. 

"Who's this, then?"

"Father, this is Mary. She needed a place to stay and we thought you'd love to meet her."

You approached him and he took your hands in his. "You are very welcome, Mary. Would you like a drink?" Dingle the elf slinked away and rode the sleigh back to the workshop.

You followed Santa into his kitchen, feeling in awe of the powerful man before you. He was bigger than you'd ever been, and now you were small he seemed immense. He placed a kettle on the stove and took a jar from the cupboard.

"Are you warm enough?"

"I'm fine thanks, Santa..." You giggled at your own words. "Should I call you that? I'm not sure what's proper."

"Santa is fine, but I prefer Nicholas or Nick."

You moved closer to him. "You know your friends the elves are worried about you. Worried enough to do something pretty crazy."

He laughed, not the belly laugh of legend but a patient chuckle. "I know. I know about everyone's behaviour. I can look into your heart, right here, and see that you are a good person, that your soul is beautiful. Like the song you know - you're 'nice'".

You unfastened your cloak and shrugged it off, revealing your phenomenal body to him.

"Well I hope I'm nice, but I'm here to be a little bit naughty too," you said flirtatiously. Nicholas smiled.

"You're sure?" he asked.

You pressed your body against his, and stood up on tiptoes, craning your neck up to kiss him. He leaned over to make it easier. He tasted of smoky wood and brandy. He felt like home.

Later that night, you sat astride his powerful naked body in his armchair, your immense breasts crushed against him, wailing in orgasm as his wrist-thick cock ploughed into you. He effortlessly lifted your up and down his length, pounding you to peak after peak until he unleashed a hundred years of stored up cum from his heavy balls, drenching your insides.

You had found your new home.