Stiles Had A Huge Problem.

Stiles had a huge problem.

The slender human stood in the middle of Derek’s loft, eying both the sourwolf and his cocky uncle, both of the werewolves demanding that he finally choose one of them to be his mate.

Normally Stiles scoffed at the idea of love triangles, believing that they were just a horrible teen romance novel trope, yet there he was: stuck between deciding between Derek and Peter. And, unfortunately, it was not an easy choice to make.

Derek was closer to his age, and he was the classic brooding hunk who rarely smiled. His body was blessed with muscles and he had this smoldering look that melted Stiles’s heart. And, he’d even seen his cock once, and dare he say it, it was impressive. The two of them had been on the same side through multiple supernatural excursions. Although Derek was much more guarded, he’d eventually began to make it known that he wanted the human, starting out subtly by casually brushing up against him, to more brazenly by sneakily holding his hand while at pack meetings.

Then there was Peter, who was older and much more experienced. His lean muscle was extremely attractive, as was the slight grays that were starting to appear in his sideburns. Peter also had some chest hair and his worldly knowledge and the way he was completely domineering made him ooze “Daddy”. And Stiles was definitely into that as well. Plus Peter was much more direct in his want for the younger man. Whereas Derek preferred a subtle approach, the older werewolf preferred to be much more direct, such as surprising Stiles late at night by lying on his bed in nothing… absolutely nothing, allowing his hard cock to be presented. And that was impressive too.

Therefore, Stiles stood in the middle of the loft, looking between the expectant Peter and Derek as they both stared him down, waiting for his answer. Derek had his buff arms crossed in front of his large chest, his pecs stretching the fabric of his shirt to the limit. Then Peter eyed Stiles in a cocky manner that said, “I’m waiting”, and Stiles couldn’t help but drool over the wisps of manly chest hair that creeped out of his deep v-neck.

“Um,” Stiles stalled, still incredibly torn between the two men before him. He was sympathetic and understood their frustration, yet he was also deeply conflicted between them. He wanted Derek, and he wanted Peter. It was not as simple as pointing at one of them and writing off the other. “I’m sorry, guys. I know it’s annoying, but I really can’t choose between the two of you.”

Derek gave one of his characteristic sighs, even rolling his eyes. “If you need some time to think about it, then I guess that’s fine,” he growled under his breath, obviously growing impatient.

“Or,” Peter smirked, “maybe I could help you make up your mind?” He hold out his arms, showcasing the tight t-shirt he wore which seemed to be painted onto his lean musculature.

Derek directed his quiet growl at his uncle, who bared his canine teeth in response. Both of the hunky werewolves growled at each other, trying to intimidate the other into backing out of their courting of Stiles, all the while the human awkwardly shuffled his feet.

“Dammit,” Stiles cursed to himself. “I just wish that there was a way I could choose the both of you.”

At that moment, Derek launched towards Peter, his teeth bared and his claws protruding. Peter leapt forward as well. However, the crash that Stiles was expecting didn’t come. Instead, Derek’s muscular body slammed into Peter’s older and leaner one, the action resulting in an something more akin to two liquids meeting.

Stiles’s eyes widened when he saw what looked like Peter’s slimmer body being swallowed by Derek’s larger one. Derek looked shocked and Peter let out a surprised gasp as they witnessed their bodies merging together. It seemed as if Derek’s body was taking Peter’s into his own, both of their bulk combining and forming a much larger form. Derek’s already large muscles took in Peter’s toned ones, growing in size to the point where his biceps inflated the smallest bit and his pecs puffed out a little more, even having Peter’s chest hair grow out over them. Their clothes even merged together, leaving Peter’s classic deep v-neck shirt being covered by Derek’s black leather jacket, their blue jeans looking the same yet containing a much, much larger bulge in the front of them. Lastly, Derek and Peter’s head smashed into each other, molding together for a brief second before forming a brand new visage. This new face had Derek’s eyebrows and serious eyes, yet it also had Peter’s cocky smirk and the little lines indicating his maturity. Peter’s stylized hairstyle took on Derek’s black hair color with some little grays at the sideburns, and Derek’s manly stubble grew out over Peter’s square jaw.

Finally, before Stiles stood a muscular, taller man who had traits belonging to both Derek and Peter. It did however take Stiles a second to realize that this brand new man before him had one eye being Derek’s alpha red while the other was Peter’s beta blue, letting him know that although it seemed impossible, both men were in this new form before him.

The newly merged Derek/Peter used both of his larger, muscled arms to feel around his new body in awe, a shocked look on his handsome face. “Wha-what?” he wondered aloud in his deep, manly voice that had Derek’s baritone and Peter’s cocky inflection. “What just happened?” He looked up at Stiles in wonder and confusion, taking an uneasy step forward, trying to get the hang of having two minds controlling one body that contained both of their strength and musculature.

Stiles was stunned silent for once. His jaw hung low and his eyes were wide as saucers. “Holy crap,” he finally breathed as he watched the merged werewolves stumble around in their shared body, deeply turned on by the way the new guy’s large hairy pecs strained against Peter’s shirt and how Derek’s leather jacket struggled to contain the broadened shoulders. Best of all was how tight the pants were, showcasing the nearly foot long cock that snaked down the guy’s beefy thigh.

Derek/Peter looked up at Stiles, shock and horror over his new face. “Stiles!” he gasped. “We have to figure out a way to fix this— No! Wait!— What? Are you crazy?”

The poor human felt like he was going to get an aneurism watching the merged werewolves argue with one another in their shared body, each one fighting for control over the other.

“This might sound weird, but if we stay this way, then there’s no need for one of us to lose him!” the merged man said, his broad shoulders relaxing the slightest bit.

Stiles didn’t know which wolf offered the idea, but he could see the conflict the other one had as the new man scrunched up his face before briefly glancing at Stiles, a small, shy smile forming on his face.

“Do… d-do, uh, do you you think you can deal with this?” Derek/Peter asked quietly, holding out his buff arms to showcase his muscled-up, shared body.

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to guess Stiles’s answer, especially after he took one more look at the monster cock that the merged werewolves had. “Absolutely,” he gasped.

The new man rushed forward and took Stiles into his arms, and Stiles marveled at how the man held him with a combination of Derek’s gentle caution and Peter’s aggressive passion, seemingly the best of both worlds. He leaned down and pressed his lips to Stiles’s, growling happily.

“We can deal with this too,” Derek/Peter agreed, nuzzling their mate with glee.

“So… do I call you Deter or Perek?” Stiles asked.

Stiles, red in the face from obviously trying to hold back a laugh, approached the older werewolf. With the Bestiary in hand, he tapped on Peter’s broad shoulder.

“Hey Peter?” he asked, his voice cracking as he struggled to maintain composure.

“Hmm?” Peter answered, casually looking back at the human, his interest already piqued.

Stiles held out the ancient-looking text, putting on his cutest puppy look. “Can you please read this passage?” he asked. “I’m having a little trouble.”

Peter scoffed and rolled his eyes, but on the inside he was melting at the look Stiles gave him. “Fine,” he sighed, grabbing the Bestiary, not-so-subtly allowing his fingers to graze Stiles’s. He studied the mysterious looking writing, unsure as to what it meant. “Um, cranius reductus frazos imperatum...?”

A slight shudder ran through the werewolf and he swayed on his feet a little bit. He blinked away the stars that filled his vision, seeing that Stiles’s smile had grown exponentially, and he couldn’t help but grin back.

“What is it...” Peter asked, but trailed off when he heard the way his voice sounded like he’d been sucking on helium. “*Ahem, what’s so funny... what’s wrong with my voice?”

The werewolf confusedly looked around the room, his eyes stopping as soon as he saw his warped reflection in the mirror on the wall.

“What happened to me?!” he roared/squeaked when he saw that his head was the size of a pomegranate. He held his hands up in front of his face in shock, freaked out over how humongous they appeared to him with his changed perspective. Everything in the room looked bigger and much farther away. His shoulders seemed as if they’d broadened outwards and his chest was much thicker... however, he knew that it was all a trick of his changed perspective. Everything was the same. His head was just tiny.

Stiles finally lost his composure and burst out into hysterics. “Deaton taught me that little spell!” he laughed, holding onto his sides as the tiny-headed werewolf glared at him. 

“You better fix this!” Peter growled as he tried to look intimidating. However, with his tiny head and his high-pitched voice, he felt more ridiculous than anything.

“Don’t look so mad, Peter. It should wear off by tomorrow morning... I hope.” 

“You better fix this!”

Seeing this picture, I can imagine Stiles playing around with some magical spells, and poor Derek getting affected by them. Therefore, in the following photoshops that I’ve attempted to make, in each in every one of them, I can imagine Derek being shocked by his transformation, telling Stiles that he better fix him...

Derek unable to stop giggling and laughing in a goofy manner. “You, *giggle, better fix this!” he’d chuckle.

-- -- --

Derek would be too embarrassed over his squeaky voice, which is a side effect of his tiny head. Instead, he’d glare at Stiles, telepathically telling him to fix this.

-- -- --

“You, *snort, better fix this!” Derek would oink.

-- -- --

“You better fix this!” Derek would grunt in his deeper voice, blushing at how nice it felt to press the smaller human against his bulky muscles.

“Mmmph!” Stiles would struggle to reply with his face buried in Derek’s muscletits.

*This last photo is from @alec789​

Tyler Hoechlin frowned as he looked in the mirror, noting that there was a gray hair in his beard. The actor sighed, frowning to himself as he studied his reflection. He took some solace in the fact that he still possessed a chiseled form with washboard abs and perfectly sculpted pecs. He’d even stepped on the scale to make sure he was staying at his peak 175 pounds. The actor was a hunk, plain and simple. That being said, he was peeved at the gray hair that was on his chin.

With some tweezers, Tyler plucked the gray, grimacing when it was off his face. “Dammit,” he huffed to himself. Although the actor was only thirty-three years old, he frowned at the thought of growing older and potentially losing roles due to him being too old, which was just how it worked in Hollywood.

He’d brought it up to one of his screen partners earlier that day, and he’d responded with: “Well, believe it or not, there’s a high demand for daddies.”

Tyler had nearly lashed out at the younger actor, pissed that he’d been technically referred to as a “Daddy”. He wasn’t old— he just had one, singular gray hair. And he didn’t even have that anymore now that he’d plucked it. All he had to do was keep up his workout regimen to maintain his chiseled muscles and maybe look into dying his hair every now and then.

Yawning, Tyler walked to his bedroom and stripped down to his boxers. He got underneath the covers, grumbling to himself as he drifted off to sleep, still irritated at his screen partner.

“I’m not some daddy,” he muttered to no one before he fell asleep, a tingling sensation settling over his body as he slept.

— — —

The alarm went off, waking up the sleeping actor and letting him know it was time for him to get up and head to the set. With a deep grunt, he rolled over, ignoring the loud creaking of the bed frame and the heavy thuds of his footsteps. He nearly stumbled when he felt that his weight was off, but he ignored it and waddled to the bathroom to shower.

Tyler paused when he looked in the mirror, studying his reflection. He felt like something was off, but there was a thick fog settling in his head, muddling his thoughts like he was on sleep medication. He moved closer to the mirror, running a beefy hand through his salt-and-pepper hair before glancing at his gray beard. He tried to think about why he was odded out by his hair, but he’d had grays before and had eventually decided to embrace them, right? He shook his head and scratched at his hairy gut that was firm and jutted out in front of him, his thick, meaty pecs resting on it. Again, he had a flicker in his brain that told him that this was wrong, but he laughed it away. Tyler knew that he gave up on having abs as he grew older, deciding to fully take on the muscle daddy look, complete with large pillowy pecs and a huge roidgut.

As per his morning routine, Tyler hopped onto the scale, having to bend more to peek over his gut at what it read: 302 lbs. H-had he put on weight… like a pound or two? The actor took off his boxers (which were ripped for some reason) and got in the shower. Tyler felt like he was going crazy as his broad shoulders kept banging against the shower tiles and door constantly. He felt awkward as he washed his large, beefy body, feeling as if his gut was hindering his movement a little. 

Weirder was that his bulk was so sensitive.

Just running his hands over his musclegut or over his nubby nipples on his massive muscletits made his ten inch cock go rock hard. And soaping up his large, hairy asscheeks made him bellow out a deep moan and shoot perhaps the largest load of his life all over the shower tiles, leaving the actor panting and spent.

His heart raced in his beefy chest for some reason, but the daddy shook it away and got out of the shower. He waddled back to his room, his large thighs rolling over one another while his enormous cock dangled wildly in front of him. He could even feel the shifting of his massive bubblebutt behind him, further confusing the actor.

“What is going on with me today?” he asked himself as he pulled on his jockstrap, his large cock filling the pouch and the back straps lifting his ass cheeks. His jeans were even plastered against his thighs, looking like they were painted on. He had difficulty buttoning them since he couldn’t see over his large pecs and gut, which was normal though… wasn’t it? He shrugged it off as he tugged on his black tank top, which was so tight that it barely fit over his massive pecs and gut. The bottom of the shirt kept riding up when he walked… well, waddled. And his large, nubby nipples poked against the fabric making themselves known to all who would pass by.

The beefy man took one last look in the mirror before he left, wondering why his brain was screaming that something was wrong. Everything was fine, he thought, right?

Tyler snorted and squared his broad shoulders, puffing out his musclegut with pride as he strutted out to his sports car. After having to adjust the seat (quite a lot), the muscle daddy sped off to the movie set. For the millionth time, Tyler felt an odd anxiety creeping up on him over the sensation of his gut brushing against the steering wheel and his pecs constantly colliding with his huge biceps.

“I need some coffee,” the daddy grunted to himself as he parked and waddled onto the set.

Everyone nodded at him like usual, some even greeting him with a hearty “Good morning!” It made Tyler feel more at ease, convincing himself that everything was alright and he was just having an off day for some reason.

He entered his dressing room and saw the younger actor from yesterday.

“Hey there, Tyler!” the young man waved at him, his eyes mischievously running up and down his beefy form.

“Good morning!” Tyler bellowed in his deep voice, immediately peeling out of his tank top and jeans. He began to shuffle around the dressing room to get his stuff ready, barely registering that he was strutting around in nothing but a skimpy jockstrap with his beefy ass hanging out for the other man to see.

The young man walked up to him, a smirk on his face as he ran a slender finger up the curvature of Tyler’s large gut, pausing to flick a large nipple.

Tyler’s head rolled back and he let out a low moan, his bulk shivering as the slight touch sent ripples of electricity throughout his beefy body straight to his massive cock, which sprang up into the air proudly. Tyler began to run his hands all over this own body, focusing more on his gut and pecs than his cock for some reason. Sure it felt nice to play with his own cock, but Tyler could get off a lot easier by rubbing his musclegut or by tugging on his nubby nipples… wait, no. That’s wasn’t right.

“I have to admit that I love the new look, Daddy,” the young man teased, his mouth latching onto a larger than normal nipple.

“Wh-what?” Tyler gasped, his face paling as he looked in the mirror at his inflated, older form. He must’ve put on over one-hundred pounds of a mixture of muscle and fat, most of it centered on his chest which suddenly felt so heavy and cumbersome. He ran his shaky hands through his graying hair and finally noticed the crow’s feet near his eyes. The entire time his larger cock oozed precum as the younger man tongued his inflated nipples.

The young man looked up and smiled at him, briefly pulling away for a second. “You look like the hottest muscle daddy ever,” he grinned, running his hands all over the older man’s protruding and uber sensitive gut.

Tyler felt himself tense up and blow his load, his gut and pecs bouncing as he came. “Ooohhh!” he cried as his cum splattered all over the younger man. As he came the old Tyler screamed as he sank deeper and deeper into the recesses of the new Tyler’s mind, being locked away in a box where he could observe and feel everything that his new body experienced, but not able to have any control over it.

“You doing okay?” the young man asked.

A large smile formed on Tyler Hoechlin’s face, and there was a fluttering in his beefy chest at the sight of the small guy. He couldn’t help but flex both of his massive arms in what was a double biceps pose, pushing out his gut with pride. 

“Hell yeah, Boy,” Tyler grunted, “Daddy’s doin’ just great. Now c’mere and suck on these muscletits some more.”

Congrats to this hot stud who won both biggest and smallest in show!

“Peter! There you are! We’ve been looking all over for you!” Stiles exclaimed as he stomped into the gym, heading over towards the weight pile where the shirtless werewolf was working out. He was ready to chew him out for being M.I.A. for several days, but froze in his spot when he looked over the older former alpha.

Instead of his usual dapper self, Peter was a hulking beast. The shirtless stud sat on the bench and lifted dumbbells, his inflated biceps bulging to the size of bowling balls and without a doubt being no longer able to fit in his tailor-fitted shirts. Speaking of which, his cumbersome pecs were enormous, ballooning out from his chest to the point where they obscured part of his neck and to where his erect nipples were pointing straight downwards. Even his abs were pronounced and his waist seemed pinched inwards before meeting a pair of raggedy cargo shorts that he would normally never be seen dead in. This over-muscled Peter was nothing like the arrogant werewolf Stiles was used to, making his jaw drop in wonder and confusion.

Peter looked over at the surprised Stiles and flashed him a smile, yet his eyebrows were worriedly knitted together. “Yeah Bruh,” he said, his voice sounding deeper than usual, “all you had to do was check the gym. Ya know I’d here workin’ on my pump!”

He set one of the dumbbells down and flexed a giant bicep in front of Stiles’s wide eyes.

“Feel it,” he teased, leaning closer towards the small human. The cocky smirk that the werewolf wore did not at all match the panicked look in his eyes, which seemed to be silently pleading with Stiles.

“Um, maybe later,” Stiles mumbled, cocking his eyebrow at the muscle man. “Anyways, Peter, why have you been here? I’ve never known you to ever go to the gym once. In fact, I seem to recall you calling guys who go, and I quote, ‘Stupid Muscleheads’.”

“Peter wouldn’t say that,” an unknown voice said.

Stiles looked over to see another muscled up stud sauntering over to the weight pile, clad in nothing but spandex shorts and a yellow tank top that had the sides cut in a way that allowed his hairy, beefy chest to be prominent displayed. The unknown bodybuilder stopped right by Peter and patted his broadened shoulder.

“Peter here lives for working out,” the man laughed. “All this guy’s good for is buildin’ muscle and fuckin’. Right, Peter?”

Peter looked straight into Stiles’s eyes, and the pleading look that they conveyed made the human’s stomach churn slightly. However, the buffed up werewolf bellowed out, “Hell yeah! I love to build up this mass!” To punctuate his point, he made his inflated pecs bounce, the massive mounds leaping up and slamming back down with power, sending a ripple throughout his huge muscles.

Stiles immediately knew that this bodybuilder was behind Peter’s new body and attitude. However, he kept his lips sealed when the man looked over at him, smirking.

“You know what?” he said. “I think Peter’s done for the day. You can take him home.” He turned down to the new muscled up werewolf. “See you tomorrow for your workout.”

“Wait— what?” Stiles called out as the unknown man walked away, leaving him all alone with the bodybuilder Peter.

The newly transfigured Peter stood up, looking about twice as wide as he was before. His large arms rested on his flaring lats, being stuck at an odd angle. His thighs were so large that they rolled around each other with every step, turning his walk into a waddle. He must’ve put on at least one-hundred pounds of solid muscle, completely warping his formerly lean body into a body that oozed muscle and roids.

“Um, should you go get dressed first?” Stiles asked, figuring that he should at least take Peter to Derek or Deaton to try to see what was wrong and how they could help him.

Although the embarrassed look in Peter’s eyes looked like he wanted nothing more than to cover up his new bulk, he shook his head. “No way, Babe,” he chuckled in his deep, slow voice. “I gotta show off these gains wherever I go!”

When the two of them exited the gym doors and were out on the public street, Peter’s face turned bright red with blush as the citizens of Beacon Hills turned to look at his massive, inflated form. He was normally used to people looking at him in admiration due to his designer clothing and charming demeanor, however, now they were marveling at his massive size— some of them drooling with lust while others looking in disgust.

Peter, much to his horror, felt himself throw both of his massive arms up above his head, forming a double biceps pose for all to see. His mouth stretched out into that cocky grin he was forced to wear, and despite himself, he hated that he was getting so incredibly turned on by showing off his vast form to the onlookers… but that paled in comparison to how rock hard he got at the thought of smothering tiny Stiles with his giant pecs, his heart racing at the thought.

“Don’t worry, Peter,” Stiles said as he grabbed a hold of the werewolf’s beefy hand to lead him to his Jeep, “we’ll figure out how to change you back.”

He helped Peter into the passenger seat, trying to hold back a smile when the seatbelt completely disappeared into the cleavage of his giant pecs. When Stiles got into the driver’s seat, he stifled a laugh when he had to lean to the side a little bit due to the hyperbolic broadness of Peter’s shoulders.

“Yeah, I guess I’m just a little too buff for your ride, Little Man,” Peter boasted, and Stiles knew that was his way of apologizing for the inconvenience his size created.

“It’s cool,” Stiles reassured him, patting him on the hand. As he did so, he felt Peter grab a tight hold of it.

Instead of his eyes looking panicked, Peter’s eyes actually looked pleased as he stared down at the little human by his side. “Ya know,” he playfully growled, “I can show ya another muscle of mine.” He winked and gestured down at his shorts.

Stiles’s eyes nearly exploded as he saw the giant arm Peter’s cock had become. It snaked down his leg, looking about as thick as Stiles’s forearm.

Peter flirtatiously bounced his pecs, looking at Stiles expectantly.

“Well,” Stiles hummed, flooring the Jeep in the direction of his apartment, “I guess we can fix this a little later.”

-- -- --

[Photo Source: https://www.deviantart.com/doryfan1/art/Muscle-Morph-Ian-Bohen-1-544217699]