2020 Christmas Tales #2 - Magi Gifts (Version 1)

There's an old, unfinished Christmas story I worked on many years ago, that some guys still ask about on occasion, called Gifts From the Magi--obviously a twist on the O. Henry short story. I don't know if that original one will ever get a rework, but this is at least a kind of finished version. Well, two finished versions, actually. I'll post the second one tomorrow. This one is more wholesome, the second is more evil.

*

Jim and Rick had been friends for ages, and while there had always been potential for there to be something more than just that, there was one major obstacle to them developing their relationship into something more--they were both total bottoms. It’s not that they couldn’t top--just that they both preferred having some big, burly fellow on top of them, really giving their holes a work over. And as a couple of twinkish guys, they just weren’t what the other one was looking for.

And so, Christmas was coming, and Rick was walking down the sidewalk, seeing if he could find some gifts, when he saw a shop he didn’t recognize. The board over the door said “Magi Gifts,” the the building was very narrow, almost like someone had shoved the two buildings on each side over a few feet to make room for this one little shop front. Inside were curio cabinets loaded with oddities, figurines, all sorts of junk, but the prices were all very nice. There was an elderly fellow sitting behind one of them with a rusty cash register beside him, who gave Rick a nod as he entered. “Hello, how can I help you today?”

Rick said hello and mentioned he was looking for a gift for a friend of his, and the older fellow was so disarming, and more than a little handsome, that Rick soon found himself divulging the problem between Jim and himself, that while they were very emotionally compatible, the sexual side of things was...difficult. He expected the stodgy old fellow to get a bit hung up on the gay stuff, but he just laughed, and told Rick to follow him into the back, asking him some more...probing questions about what sort of guy Rick usually went for. That was easy. Jim was a bit more kinky, but Rick’s needs were more general. Muscle was good, but it was best with a hefty gut. Older fellows, not unlike the shopkeep, he said, but the man either didn’t catch the invitation, or ignored it. Flannel, denim, rugged, beards, pipes had always been a thing for him too. He was still talking when the man pushed the box into his hands, already sealed and wrapped in plain brown paper. “You gave me more than enough, Rick--I’m sure Jim will appreciate it.”

“Wait, but what’s in it? And I didn’t give you my name--”

“Don’t ask too many questions now,” he said, “Just trust me, alright?”

Rick nodded, and left the shop--only after did he realize he’d forgotten to pay the man. Embarrassed the next day, he tried to go back and pay for it, but couldn’t seem to find it no matter how hard he looked. In the end, he thought why not give it to him? At worst, it would be a gag gift, right? So when he was over at Jim’s house one evening close to Christmas, he slipped it under the tree without a name, and left. It wasn’t until he woke up on Christmas day and pulled his own presents out from under his small tree that he found a present eerily familiar. Also wrapped in simple brown paper without a name, he tore it open, opened it up, and pulled the variety of gear inside out of it.

A pair of engineer boots, size 17. Some leather chaps. A harness. A muir cap. Rubber gloves. A box of cigars. It was only when everything was laid out in front of him that he realized there was no way all of this could have possibly fit in that small box. He didn’t have time to consider much beyond that, because the gear all came alive and started forcing itself onto his body, the boots sliding onto his smaller feet, chaps over his legs, harness wrapped around his chest and belly, and lastly, a cigar lit itself and slammed into his mouth, refusing to come out. Soon enough, he didn’t want it out. He sucked on it, moaning and groaning as his body changed, fat filling in and pushing out the harness, coated in bristly white hair, a thick beard growing in around his mouth, yellowed at the corner from years of cigar smoking. He was so horny he tried to jack off, feeling it grow larger and thicker in his hand, his balls dropping lower and lower, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t come.

Not too long after, there was a knock at his door, the sound of a key, and Jim burst into the apartment using his spare. Rick looked up at him, and gave a low wolf whistle. In another life, he would have been looking at his perfect man--a few inches taller than six feet, broad muscular shoulders with a hefty gut pushing out the flannel shirt that barely buttoned in front. Grungy work jeans held up by suspenders, muddy work boots on his feet, and clamped in his teeth was a massive pipe belching smoke, curling through the thick beard on his face. “Fuck Rick...guess it worked on you too.”

Rick stood up, cock drooling precum on the floor, and went in to kiss him. What followed was a rather awkward effort of both guys to try and get on top of the other one, with neither of them managing a successful release. “Hold it, hold it,” Jim said at last, before Rick could try again. “This ain’t gonna work.”

Rick sighed, “Fuck, I know! But...god damn, did you find that fuckin’ magi shop too?”

Jim nodded.

“Well, I guess there’s just one thing to do, eh? Why don’t we hit the streets, and find a boy who would appreciate a couple of hung top daddies giving him a working over, eh?”

That sounded like a great idea to Rick, and it wasn’t long before the two daddies had a collection of boys all eager for the new doms to fuck them--together or separate. The two men found themselves bonding and growing closer than they had. It had seemed like a curse at first, but maybe the magi really had given them both exactly what they needed.