What. A. Day! Stiles Sighed As He Slumped Into The Loft Where His Boyfriend Lived/lurked. He Shrugged

“What. A. Day!” Stiles sighed as he slumped into the loft where his boyfriend lived/lurked. He shrugged his backpack to the ground and walked over to the couch where Derek sat.

“Bad day?” the werewolf asked in his usual gruff monotone, but still put a buff arm around the human’s slender shoulders.

Stiles threw his hands up into the air. “I swear my Folklore professor has it out for me!” he whined, noting the amused look in his boyfriend’s eyes.  “I’m serious!”

Derek just nodded, already knowing that his hyperactive boyfriend was going to regale him with some lavish, over-exaggerated tale. “Sure…”

The smaller man shook it away. “No, really, Derek,” he explained, “Professor Collins seems to have it out for me, ever since I turned him down when he asked me out!”

That spiked Derek’s attention and the werewolf perked up, feeling his territorial instincts over his boyfriend starting to grow, his arm around his shoulders tightening the slightest bit. He even fought to suppress the jealous growl that was bubbling in his muscled chest.

Stiles carried on, blissfully unaware of his boyfriend’s change of mood. “He gave me a zero on my quiz last week, had me do my presentation alone while everyone else got a partner, and today after class he made me stay late!”

Derek felt his lips curl over his teeth. “He did?” he asked through gritted teeth.

The spastic human nodded. “And get this, he had the balls to ask me out again, for like the thousandth time, and of course I said ‘No’; but this time, I made sure to mention that I have a boyfriend, hoping that he’d get the hint.” He trailed off for a little bit. “And it seemed to work for a little bit, and he even offered me an espresso and told me to say ‘Hi’ to you for him… so, uh, ‘Hi’.” He cheekily smiled at the end of his story.

Despite how it seemed like the pervy professor had given up, Derek was still pissed to no end at the thought of another man trying to creep on his boyfriend. The possessive wolf instinct in him caused him to lean forward and pepper kisses along Stiles’s jawline.

Stiles moaned slightly and crooked his head to the side, giving Derek access to his neck. The scraping of the werewolf’s stubble against his own smooth skin sent little jolts of electricity straight to his cock.

With a smirk on his handsome face, Derek leaned forward and pinned Stiles down onto his back, immediately attacking his lips with his stubble-framed ones. Stiles gladly allowed him access when he lapped at his bottom lip, deepening the kiss with an animalistic growl. Derek ran his hands along Stiles’s smooth skin, his claws teasingly scraping against it, making him arch his back. As their tongues danced and they heatedly made out, Stiles began to notice that something was off.

The taste of the coffee that the mysterious Professor Collins had offered him still lingered in his mouth, but it seemed to grow in intensity for a brief moment. Then he felt what seemed like Derek biting his tongue a bit, making him yelp and jerk back.

“What the hell…” Stiles trailed off, his words getting lost in his throat when he looked up at his boyfriend.

Derek glanced down at him, a confused look on his face. He didn’t seemed to be aware of the fact that his head had shrunk down to the size of an orange. It still the same proportions, however, it made his already broad shoulders look absolutely massive. It was an odd sight seeing such a muscled up man with an incredibly tiny head, making Stiles stare back in confused awe, the taste of coffee still on his tongue.

Derek cocked his small eyebrow in wonder, staring down at his boyfriend in confusion. “What’s wrong?” the werewolf asked, his voice sounding like he’d been huffing on helium, resembling more of a chipmunk than a tough alpha werewolf. He winced and cleared his throat before trying again. “What’s the matter… *ahem, what is it— what’s wrong with my voice?”

Derek shot off the couch, nearly stumbling to the floor due to his perception being all thrown off. The first thing he noticed was how massive his pecs looked, appearing as if they’d ballooned out in front of him, and when he turned to look at his shoulders, they seemed to stretch on for meters. His tiny head paled and he brought his hands in front of his face, gasping as he looked at the massive mattress-sized hands he seemed to possess.

“What the fuck?!” he squeaked in his high pitched voice. “Did I grow?!”

Stiles slowly stood to his feet, taking in the odd sight of the werewolf with the shrunken head. “Uh, no?” he meekly answered, pulling out his phone and taking a quick picture before showing it to his boyfriend.

Derek nearly passed out when he saw the photo of himself with a tiny head. “How the fuck did this happen?!” he squeaked, trying to sound pissed off, but his tiny voice made him sound ridiculous.

Stiles fought hard not to laugh, and covered his smiling mouth with his hand.

“This isn’t funny!” Derek growled, which sounded even funnier in its higher pitch. He resulted to stomping his heavy foot down onto the floor in order to sound intimidating. He had no idea how this had even happened or how to fix it… if he even could. That last thought made his heart race and he started to fear the thought of walking through public with people turning to look in wonder at the freakshow with the tiny head. He looked like a caricature with such exaggerated muscles and a head barely the size of a baseball, coupled with a comical squeaky voice that was in no way threatening. 

As he panicked, Stiles got a call from an unknown number and and answered.

“Hey Stiles, it’s Professor Collins,” the professor said on the other line. “I’m guessing you figured out my little potion by now. Suffice to say, you can either go out with a hot professor with a high paying job and a gym-built physique… or you can date a werewolf who looks like he cosplays Beetlejuice. Your choice.”

“What?” Stiles gasped. “You sick fuck!”

The professor laughed. “Fine, I suppose I have your answer. And by the way, yes, it is permanent. Have fun!” He hung up.

Derek couldn’t believe what he’d heard, panicking at the idea of spending the rest of his days looking and sounding like an absolute freak. How could he maintain his status as an alpha if he sounded like a chipmunk? And how could he intimidate enemy packs if he struts around with a wildly disproportionate body? He looked over at the mirror hanging on the wall, huffing at his warped reflection and tiny, angry face staring back. The movement made his massive shoulders rise, nearly covering his puny head with their bulk.

“Well, um,” Stiles tried to comfort him, “at least I didn’t give you a blowjob?”

Derek just scowled back, trying to see the bright side. He may have a shrunken head, but at least he still had Stiles.

As Coach Benson stood in the locker room, he forced himself to ignore the snickering of the football players. The muscled athletes around him did their best to avoid eye contact, some covering their grins with their hands while others red in the face from trying not to burst into hysterics.

The football coach grimaced and cleared his throat a couple times before trying to deepen his voice to resemble anything like the booming, manly tones he used to possess. "Alright boys," he squeaked, the chipmunk-like voice making him sound like he'd been sucking on helium, "we're going to face off against--"

Despite their best efforts, the football players lost their composure and each one of them (including the water boy) started to laugh at the cartoonish sound of the older man's voice.

"Fuck this..." Coach Benson huffed as he stormed off back to his office.

He used to be an imposing figure who oozed masculinity and who could easily get what he wanted just by puffing out his beefy, hairy chest or by using his baritone to bark orders at people he viewed smaller than him. However, he'd tried to push around one of the science nerds who didn't feel like tutoring his QB, and then he became one of those freak's science experiments.

Coach looked in the mirror that was in his office, a frown set deep on his face as he stared back at his reflection. He still had all of his hard-earned muscles that bulged with power and stretched the confines of his polo to the limit. However, now that was capped off with a head the size of a ripe apple, complete with a squeaky voice.

Now instead of obeying his every order, the former alpha man felt like he was butt of every joke. All of the football players now mocked him for his tiny head and silly voice instead of treating him with the upmost respect. And none of the other nerdy teachers or coaches would listen to him try to bark out demands. Shoot, even his girlfriend left him for a guy with smaller muscles... but a normal-sized head.

"Fuckin' nerds," Coach irritatedly huffed to himself in his squeaky voice, already planning on begging the nerd to change him back after the game.

Poor Superman was hit by one of Lex Luthor’s shrink rays… but it only hit his head.

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

Derek was already a little annoyed with having been volunteered by Stiles to play for the company’s baseball team, but when one of the other players starting to comment on his musculature, he was trying his best to swallow his rage.

The player in question looked like one of those stereotypical depictions of steroid-abusing athletes. His large, grotesque muscles strained against the red uniforms of the team and the top few buttons of the team shirt were left undone because they couldn’t close around his bulbous pecs that resembled melons. 

“Maybe we’d be winning and you wouldn’t have struck out if you went to the gym some more,” the meathead said, giving Derek a sideways glance.

The alpha werewolf clenched his jaw, trying his best to ignore the idiot next to him. Yeah, Derek had struck out… but it was only because he’d kept swinging the bat too fast, missing the baseball over and over due to his werewolf speed. 

“I hit a home run,” the muscleman next to him continued, giving his pecs a little bounce. “I guess I got some strength behind my swing.”

“I’ll hit it next time,” Derek grunted, trying not to bare his teeth. Although he knew it was just a silly game, he was feeling miffed at having struck out in front of his entire company… and especially in front of Stiles who had given him a pity-clap when he’d slunk back to the dugout. 

Derek looked over at the bleachers were he saw Stiles happily chowing down on some popcorn. He looked and made eye contact, giving him a small wave.

The other player scoffed. “Not with those puny muscles,” he countered, going so far as to actually reach over and grab a hold of Derek’s fleshy pecs. “Those are hardly there. There’s no power behind you.”

Derek was stunned silent that the other man had had the nerve to grab his chest… which he wanted to argue was muscular, but of course it’d look unimpressive next to the steroid-user’s.

“I got my homerun, and my boyfriend doesn’t complain either,” the man smirked, gesturing at some random dude in the bleachers. This guy waved at the muscle man, using a much more animated wave than Stiles had when he’d waved at Derek.

The werewolf scowled to himself as he looked down at his own chest which did appear a little flat. The man’s groping hands had left a little tingling sensation behind, making Derek’s chest feel like it was buzzing. 

Derek’s team wound up losing, much to the werewolf’s dismay. As he and Stiles drove home, he was silently fuming. Due in part to being a sore loser and the muscleman’s condescending words, Derek kept his lips pursed into a thin line. And he was a little (or a lot) irritated that the muscleman’s boyfriend had given him a larger wave than the one Stiles had given him.

Plus, his chest still tingled uncomfortably to the point of feeling sore, like he’d just completed a killer Chest Day at the gym.

Stiles, trying to cheer up his husband, placed a small hand on Derek’s shoulder. “It’s just a game,” he meekly offered. “Besides, I’m pretty sure that the other team had some werewolves on it too.”

It didn’t; Derek would’ve sniffed them out. “Uh, yeah,” Derek muttered.

They stopped at a red light and Derek looked down at his chest, his frown deep on his face. His baseball uniform was a little baggy and completely obscured his muscles, giving off the illusion that he was thin and weak, whereas the jerk on his team was approaching bodybuilder proportions.

“Hey, um…” he hesitated to say, blush forming on his face, “do you think… uh, don’t laugh. B-but, do you think I have a nice chest?”

Stiles flinched and looked at Derek wide-eyed, not used to seeing his husband act self-conscious. “Of course,” he answered honestly.

The tingling in Derek’s chest began to grow in fervor, almost like there was pressure forming in his pectorals. He shook it off.

“So, you don’t think I need to be bigger?” he continued, avoiding eye contact with Stiles at all costs. The light turned green and he was thankful he had an excuse to watch the road.

Stiles chuckled. “Is this because of Shawn?” he laughed, referring to the muscleman. “I mean, sure that guy has some big pecs, but who cares?”

Derek swallowed the jealous growl that wanted to escape his lips over Stiles talking about the idiot muscleman. The pressure in the chest continued to grow until it seemed as if a bubble burst within him, the tingling dissipating across his pecs.

Pop!

Derek and Stiles both went quiet as the top button on Derek’s baseball uniform popped off, shortly followed by the second. 

“What the—?” Derek wondered aloud as he looked down, his jaw dropping when he saw his own pectorals inflating at a rapid pace. The previously toned pecs ballooned out in front of him, filling out the confines of his shirt and stretching it to the limit. They puffed out and rounded, completely engulfing his neck and forcing him to adjust his arms around them as he drove. The huge pectorals burst out of the top layer of his baseball uniform, leaving him in his red tank top, showing off how top-heavy he now looked. His nipples had even pumped up, looking hard and erect as they protruded off the massive mounds that had become his chest. 

Stiles was silent as he watched his husband’s pecs balloon out, completely warping his toned physique to make him look like a guy who was obsessed with benchpresses. As the car traveled down the road, the rumble of the engine and the little bumps in the asphalt made Derek’s muscletits jiggle and bounce constantly.

“What the fuck just happened?!” Derek panicked, pulling over to the side of the road. He winced as his buff arms kept colliding with his huge pecs as he drove, and how he had to shift his seat back to stop his new muscletits from pressing against the car horn. He looked down at himself, shocked that he couldn’t see anything beyond his new shelf of a chest which blocked the view of his lower body. He could barely make out the tips of his nubby nipples which poked out of the straps of his tank top.

“Derek,” Stiles breathed in awe. “Holy crap! Your pecs are huge!” He reached out with a shaky hand and gave one of the inflated pecs a tentative squeeze.

“Oh shiiiitt,” Derek moaned, his head rolling back and his entire body spasming, which made his giant pecs jiggle even more. His perky nipples were burning now, a sensation he wasn’t used to. 

“Sorry!” Stiles immediately cried as he jerked his hand back. “Did that hurt?”

Derek’s already red face deepened even further. “No… they’re just really sensitive,” he panted, his cock feeling as if it’d burst through his pants simply from having Stiles give his huge chest a squeeze.

Even Stiles was deeply turned on. When Derek had asked him earlier if he’d needed a bigger chest, Stiles had wanted to tell Derek that he would love it if Derek had massive pecs that were disproportionately huge. But he hadn’t wanted to hurt his feelings because he’d picked up on how Derek hated Shawn’s guts. However, as he stared at the panting Derek whose inflated muscletits heaved with every breath and whose nipples looked so utterly tweakable, he was getting hard too.

“So,” he said, a devious plan forming in his mind, “you must like it when I do this…”

Stiles reached forward and ran his thin fingers through the wisps of chest hair that covered Derek’s inflated pecs, sending a shudder through the other man.

Derek struggled to form coherent thoughts. He knew that he should be panicking that his pecs had grown to the size of basketballs somehow, and that they were now the most sensitive part on his body. However, all of that turned to mush as his husband groped his larger pecs, causing him to see stars. His cock throbbed with want and the werewolf couldn’t stop but moan loudly from every touch.

“And what about this?” Stiles smirked as he reached down to pinch and toy with Derek’s erect nipples.

“Uuughh!” Derek squealed loudly as he came on the spot, shooting what felt like the largest load in his life. A big wet mark was on the front of his pants, and he blushed again at having gotten off by having Stiles play with his nipples, which used to never be sensitive, but now the man craved it. He knew that he should be panicking and trying to fix whatever had happened to him, but instead he found himself immediately looking forward to Stiles pecfucking him when they got home.

“You know,” Stiles added, “I think your pecs are about twice as big as Shawn’s.”

Arousal radiated off Stiles in waves, and Derek couldn’t help but growl playfully at his husband. “I suppose we gotta go find some shirts that will fit over these,” he chuckled, bouncing each of his muscle mounds, loving the hungry look on his husband’s face.

-- -- --

[Base Photo Source: @bigmusclenm ]

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.”