Derek Hale Huffed As He Followed The Spastic Stiles Through The Beacon Hills Mall, Irritated To Be Surrounded

Derek Hale huffed as he followed the spastic Stiles through the Beacon Hills Mall, irritated to be surrounded by such a huge crowd of people. However, Stiles had asked him to accompany him there because he was positive that there was a hint that would help them solve the town’s latest supernatural crisis (and supposedly there was a crazy clearance sale at the retro video game store as well).

Although when he’d been asked Derek had given his trademark scowl of annoyance, he’d instantly agreed because he was helplessly in love with the nerdy human who obliviously chattered away about some obscure cheat in an old game he’d never heard of. Still, despite the gruff, annoyed expression he wore, Derek was all ears, his heart fluttering in his chest as the boy he was secretly in love with talked.

“…but you have to be careful when performing that because you can potentially softlock your game,” Stiles went on, speaking so rapidly and quickly that Derek sometimes worried the guy would pass out from a lack of oxygen.

“Mm-hmm,” Derek grunted, clenching his jaw in irritation over the fact that he was mentally unable to confess his true feelings to Stiles. Things with his ex had been so horrendous and the usual brooding-infused self-hatred made Derek feel like the human was way out of his league, even despite his status as an alpha werewolf. Therefore, he fought hard to keep Stiles at a distance, despite currently trailing him through the mall like an eager puppy… and “accidentally” letting his leather jacket-covered bulk brush up against the smaller man every so often.

The human frowned a little but shrugged his thin shoulders before perking up. “I think this is where the trickster works,” he whispered to the werewolf, pointing to a store.

“Boot Barn?” Derek scoffed, rolling his eyes as he crossed his buff arms over his muscled chest. “I have to admit that it was odd that we were seeking out a trickster at the mall, but at a cowboy store?”

Stiles shrugged in response. “Everybody has to pay bills,” he retorted before making his way towards the store that reeked of leather.

The alpha werewolf followed closely behind, sniffing at the air to see if he could catch the scent of a trickster. He swallowed down the growl that formed in his throat when he caught whiff of the sickly sweet stench that was characteristic of the magical creatures, and he took a protective step closer to the human.

“Stay close to me,” Derek whispered in Stiles’s ear. “It’s here somewhere.” Out of instinct, he wrapped a secure arm around the other man and pulled him into his leather jacket, his inner wolf preening at the proximity.

Stiles’s eyes widened and he quickly snatched the closest object off the shelf closest to them. “Um, here, act like we’re buying this,” he hurriedly said as he tossed a white cowboy hat at Derek.

The alpha werewolf scowled at the blank, white cowboy hat with the $85.95 price tag hanging from it. Still, with a deep huff, he put the cowboy hat on his head and looked down at the young man in his hold. “How’s it look?” he grunted.

Stiles fought back a giggle, making Derek’s heart speed up. “I like it.”

The sweet scent of the trickster grew stronger and Derek straightened his posture and squared his broad shoulders, glaring at the guy the scent seemed to be emanating from. “Go wait for me at the food court,” he growled to Stiles, shoving him behind him so as to leave zero room for argument.

Stiles looked conflicted as he bit down on his lower lip, but he scurried off to the food court to wait for the alpha werewolf.

Derek stalked over to the trickster who was unloading product onto a random shelf. In order to up the ante, he puffed out his chest, making his pecs look bigger as they strained against his t-shirt. He even bared his teeth the slightest bit to show off his werewolf canines.

The trickster looked up from the box he was digging through, putting on a standard customer service smile. “Hello, how may I help you— oh shit,” he groaned when he saw that he was speaking to an alpha werewolf. “Look, Dude, I haven’t down anything wrong. I get that this is your territory and all, but I haven’t even practiced any magic since I located here.”

“So you just have a passion for woking at cowboy stores?” Derek countered, crossing his powerful arms over his chest. “I don’t buy that bullshit. You have exactly one minute to get out of my sight and leave my territory.” To emphasis his threat, his flashed his canines as he checked his watch.

The trickster tossed his hands up in the air exasperatedly. “Fine,” he sighed. “Your territory’s shit anyways.” He ripped his name tag off his polo and tossed it to the ground before stomping off. He glanced over his shoulder as he was about to exit to store and smirked. “And ‘cowboy store’?” He snapped his fingers and disappeared into the crowd of mall shoppers.

There was an odd electric quality to the air, but it passed just as quickly as it had come, making Derek doubt that he’d even felt it in the first place.

He shook his head, but paused when he caught sight of his reflection in one of the many store mirrors. He thought he looked ridiculous wearing the cowboy hat when it was paired with his favorite leather jacket. He reached up to take the hat off, but found that it was stuck.

“What the hell?” Derek grunted as he grabbed at the cowboy hat with both of his hands and tugged at it, clenching his teeth as he yanked with all of his strength, but the hat stayed in place. He pulled until he was red in the face and panting from exerting so much energy, scowling at his reflection that still had him wearing such a tacky cowboy hat.

However, Derek’s attention was quickly torn away from the cowboy hat stuck on his head when he looked down at the huge belt buckle that was in the front of his jeans. It was about as large as his hand and it had such intricate designs on it that depicted cowboys and longhorns. Derek hadn’t even been wearing a belt earlier, let alone one with such a garish buckle that only served to draw peoples’ attention straight to his groin.

The werewolf gasped loudly when he saw that even his generic shoes had somehow magically been replaced with cowboy boots, his pants even shifting to accommodate them by becoming bootcut style.

“Now what the heck am I wearin’?” Derek asked aloud, his eyes going wide at the way he heard himself speak. His normally rough and pointed tone had morphed into a deeper bass-filled voice with such a heavy southern twang that it was almost comical. “Now what had gone and ‘appened to mah voice?”

Derek hurried out of the store in a panic, clearing his throat over and over and rubbing at it frantically. This couldn’t be happening. He knew that the trickster was behind this and somehow the cowboy hat that was stuck on his head was acting as a catalyst for this transformation.

He continued to shove his way through the crowd of people, none of them paying attention to the panicking alpha werewolf.

Derek took a deep breath and tried to mentally psyche himself up to speak in his normal voice. My name is Derek Hale and I live in Beacon Hills, he mentally chanted. Just say it.

“Mah name’s Derek Hale. I was born ’n’ raised here in Beacon Hills,” he said in his thick country accent that he couldn’t shake. “Darn it!” He stomped his cowboy boot down in irritation before he was alerted to something else.

He looked down at his gray t-shirt, frowning when he was realized that he was no longer wearing his trademark leather jacket. He rolled his eyes but quickly froze as he examined his forearms, his stomach dropping as he saw the dark hair that was thickening over them. In a panic, Derek looked over the rest of his body, the blood draining from his face when he saw the wisps of new chest hair curling over the collar of his tight t-shirt.

“Now what in the Sam Hill is happenin’ to me?” he wondered aloud, wincing at his altered vernacular.

The changing Derek pushed through the crowd of people and made his way to the food court, his eyes immediately honing in on Stiles who was happily munching down on fries. For a brief second, he was embarrassed to have Stiles see him like this, but he knew that the human was incredibly intelligent and may have an idea to help him.

“Whoa doggy, ain’t ya a sight for sore eyes,” Derek cried as soon as he reached him.

Stiles looked up in confusion, cocking his eyebrow at the werewolf who sounded like some caricature from CMT and who dressed like someone’s exaggerated, stereotypical idea of what a Texan might dress like. “Derek?” he asked, looking the alpha up and down before smiling slightly. “So, you decided to buy the hat.”

Despite basking in the fact that Stiles was smiling at him, Derek grabbed a hold of his hand and yanked him out of his chair, quickly ushering him out of the mall and towards the parking garage.

“Uh, Derek?” Stiles muttered as he was practically dragged behind him.

“What is it, mah darlin’?” Derek answered, flinching when he heard how he’d just referred to Stiles. 

Luckily the human seemed to ignore it for the moment. “Um,” he stalled, sounding conflicted. “Either your shirt is shrinking or you’re growing.”

The werewolf yelped and stopped in his tracks, immediately starting to feel just how snug his already tight t-shirt had become. Looking down, his jaw dropped at he witnessed his pecs puff up and pack on meat as they pushed further away from his torso. His nipples hardened and perked up, poking tantalizingly against the tight fabric of his shirt that was strained to bursting. His already-broad shoulders pushed further outwards as his back widened, pushing him to near bodybuilder proportions. Derek watched with awe as his now hairy arms thickened, his biceps inflating to the size of bowling balls, displaying the upmost masculine power. Even his thighs widened and he felt his cock and balls start to feel extremely confined in his bootcut jeans.

RIIIPPPP!

Derek’s gray t-shirt finally gave up, bursting into tatters and leaving the bulky, hairy werewolf standing shirtless in the parking garage of the mall, wearing his cowboy hat, jeans with a huge belt buckle, and his cowboy boots. His inflated, hairier form oozed manliness and seemed to be a mixture of being obtained through his alpha genes and years of hard, physical labor.

“Damn, Derek,” Stiles gasped in wonder, “you look like a—”

“Like some redneck cowboy werewolf,” Derek finished for him in his country accent, a frown settling in on his face as he examined his new form in the reflection of a tinted window on some nearby car. His broad, beefy shoulders dropped as he walked towards where he parked his Camaro, gritting his teeth in annoyance at the new way his thighs rolled over each other and the awkward way his biceps and lats kept pushing against each other, making his arms hang at a weird angle by his sides. His fuzzy pecs felt so cumbersome and heavy, and he found himself arching his back to help support their weight, which only seemed to accentuate the massive muscle mounds.

However, a large piece of him was hyperaware of the fact that he still had a strong hold of Stiles’s hand. Not only that, but the human had even gone to far as to intertwine his fingers with his, making the alpha blush. Derek was so focused on how he was walking hand in hand with Stiles that when he reached his vehicle, he was hit with such shock.

“What in tarnation?!” Derek roared in irritation as the space where he’d parked his Camaro was now occupied by an old, red pickup truck.

Stiles kept his mouth shut (for once), knowing that Derek had loved his Camaro. He gave the cowboy werewolf’s beefy, hairy hand a reassuring squeeze, not unaware of the way Derek unconsciously ran his thumb up and down his.

The alpha sighed in resignation, unsure of how to fix this. “C’mon, Darlin’,” he grunted as he led Stiles to his new truck, taking a while to realize that he’d just called Stiles “Darlin’” for a second time.

The two of them settled into the pickup truck. Derek fought back a growl when he realized just how much muscle he’d packed on once he was in the tiny cab of the old truck. His broad shoulders made it so that his left was pressed against the driver side door and his right had Stiles pressed tightly against him. His massive biceps made it hard to bend his arms to grip the steering wheel, and his pecs were so large that he had to readjust his grip around them constantly; and his seatbelt completely disappeared into their deep hairy crevice. Worse was that his larger, erect nipples kept getting stimulated by his massive biceps jostling against them as he turned the wheel, making him stifle a moan and feel the front of his pants grow tighter and tighter.

As he drove back to his loft, Derek glanced in the rearview mirror, a frown deep on his face. “I really got no idea how I’ma fix this,” he sighed.

Stiles offered him another smile. “I don’t think you look that bad,” he offered, placing a reassuring hand on the alpha’s inflated bicep.

The newly transfigured Derek was unsure if it was by his own will or a result of his transformation, but he felt himself wrap a buffed up arm around Stiles’s thin shoulders and pull him into his beefy, hairy body. “C’mere, Darlin’,” he cooed, finding it oddly hot how he completely dwarfed the smaller man.

Stiles snickered as he leaned into the alpha cowboy werewolf, running an admiring hand over Derek’s larger pecs, sending a shudder though the other man. “It’s about time you make a move,” he teased. “I just didn’t think it took you turning into some cowboy to finally get the balls.”

Derek jerked back and looked down at Stiles in wonder, his heart racing in his massive chest. “Whaddya just say?” he asked, starting to finally feel hopeful since his transformation started.

Stiles blushed and squirmed a little in his hold. “I’ve had a thing for you for a bit,” he admitted, looking away momentarily before glancing back up at the alpha.

Derek stopped at a red light and took advantage of the situation to yank Stiles closer and deeply kiss him, moaning loudly as he did so. His inner wolf howled with pride over having finally kissed his mate. He pulled back for a moment, feeling his smile taking over every expanse of his face. “I’ve been in love with ya, Darlin’ ever since ya trespassed on mah land,” he gushed, leaning back down to pepper kissed all over the human in his grasp.

Stiles leaned into it and quickly reached up and took the cowboy hat off Derek’s head, setting it onto the dash. “The brim keeps getting in the way,” he muttered before resuming their make out session.

It took Derek a moment to realize that the cowboy hat was finally off his head. He still held Stiles in his hold and let the human’s hands travel all over his bulky form. They were still making out in an old pickup truck. Derek was still wearing cowboy boots and had an obscenely large belt buckle. And Derek’s body was still at least sixty pounds heavier and much more hairier. His stomach dropped at the revelation that, although the cowboy hat had began his transformation, apparently it’s work was done and permanent. A part of the alpha werewolf winced as he knew deep down that normal Derek Hale, the stud who’d spent a chunk of his life in the city and was known to wear leather jackets and drive a hot sportscar around town, was gone. In his place was the new Derek Hale: the redneck cowboy who had a thick country accent and muscles so large that they barely fit in his pickup truck. 

And this new Derek Hale had Stiles.

Immediately all of his indignation disappeared and Derek puffed out his chest with pride, tightening his grip on his boy and planting another kiss on his lips as the light turned green. If it meant that he had Stiles in his life and that they were finally together, Derek could make it work as some muscled-up cowboy.

“Darlin’, I’ma take ya back to mah loft and I’ma knot that tight hole of yours,” Derek playfully growled at the blushing man. 

He started to drive forward again, but couldn’t ignore a brand new sensation that washed over him and told him that he was missing something. He snorted and shook his head, knowing just what it was.

Derek reached over and snatched his cowboy hat off the dash and put it back onto his head, that anxiety disappearing as soon as it was back in place. “Gotta have my hat,” he winked down at Stiles, rock hard as he envisioned all the things he was going to do to his mate… and he knew he’d be wearing his cowboy hat the entire time.

“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.

Officer Counihan ticketed a strange guy for speeding, and the next morning when he woke up, his head was hilariously tiny. His squeaky voice and awkward proportions made him humiliated at first. However, the hot cop eventually came to enjoy the way his tiny head made his muscles look all the more bigger by comparison.

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.” 

Actor Tyler Hoechlin wiped the beading sweat off of his forehead before taking in a deep breath to finish up his reps. He was at the pec fly machine, grunting with every rep as the heavy metal plates slammed back down against each other, his pecs starting to burn the slightest bit as he worked them out. 

The machine next to him was vacant before a smaller young man with thick-rimmed glasses took over. The small guy set the weights to about fifteen pounds before struggling to perform a single rep. Embarrassed, the guy looked around the gym to make sure no one was staring at him before he made eye contact with the actor.

The guy’s eyes widened and Tyler already knew what was coming.

“Holy crap!” the smaller man gasped incredulously. “You’re Tyler Hoechlin from Teen Wolf!” 

The actor bristled a bit, wanting to be a smartass and name more of his roles, but instead just smiled back at the fan. “Yeah, always nice to meet a fan,” he muttered before busting out a few reps as if it were second nature. 

It kind of was though.

Being an actor meant that Tyler was expected to uphold his physique to near perfection, especially if he wanted lead roles. His acting talents were obvious, definitely, but the stud was not immune to the fact that a large percentage of his fanbase worshipped him because of his chiseled muscles — and his manager was well-aware of that too, which was why he found himself working out five days a week trying to bulk up for an upcoming role in a movie. Tyler was set to play a muscled up superhero, but even though he’d nailed the audition, the director had “requested” (or ordered) that he put on some more weight. At 6’0’’ and 172 pounds, the actor was more lean muscle than bulky. Plus, Tyler had been weary about packing on more muscle, not wanting to look too big, but the prospect of him having the lead role in movie was enough motivation for him to put a little on.

“I don’t wanna be annoying,” the small guy continued to gush, wide-eyed as he stared at the actor, “but I love your work and it’s so amazing to actually meet you! And at the gym I frequent, go figure.”

“Thanks,” Tyler muttered, pretending not to notice the other man checking out his chest muscles as they popped through the sweaty workout tee.

“Are you bulking up for a role?” the small guy asked.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “It’s taking some time though. I’ve been at it for about two weeks, and I’ve only put on one pound.” The director had stated that he wanted Tyler to put on around fifteen pounds, to begin with, and he was nowhere near the goal and it was starting to irk him.

“And you’re doing it all natural?” the guy asked. “No offense, but I would’ve thought that celebrities would have access to stuff that would help them bulk up real easily.”

The actor snorted. “That’s just TV stuff, Man,” he chuckled. “Plus, I don’t wanna take steroids.”

Tyler fought hard not to grimace at the mention of steroids, picturing warped men in his mind.

“I mean, if that’s your thing, then whatever. But I don’t wanna be so big that I can barely move around or even wear clothes. And that stuff shrinks your junk, I hear.”

The smaller man looked like he was trying not to laugh. “Yeah, I don’t know if that aesthetic would fit you,” he mused in thought. “I mean, I guess there really is only way to find out though.” He gave a playful wink.

Tyler Hoechlin chuckled again and shook his head. “I highly doubt…” He trailed off when a shiver traveled up his spine, leaving electrifying tingles traveling throughout his limbs. His vision started to shift and it looked as if the gym was melting away right before his eyes. The entire experience was so quick that Tyler barely had time to register what was happening before it was finished.

One second the actor had been working out at the gym, and the next he was standing backstage somewhere. There was a crowd that could be heard and an announcer droning on about something that he couldn’t quite make out immediately.

“Ugh,” Tyler moaned as he rubbed at his face. “What just happened?” As soon as the hunky actor lowered his arms, he started to notice that something else was wrong. 

His arms had collided with lats in an unfamiliar way, and when he looked down at himself, Tyler was stunned to see nothing but incredibly large pecs and the tips of nubby nipples protruding off them. Panicking, the stud looked around the rest of his body, seeing large traps that surrounded his head and wildly broad shoulders that stretched on. His arms had inflated to drastic sizes, his biceps looking like the size of bowling balls and feeling painstaking inflexible as they hung akimbo at his sides. He couldn’t see them very well over his cresting pecs, but Tyler could feel thighs pressing against each other due to their unnatural girth. He took a tentative step forward, blushing at how his usual confidant gait had morphed into an impeded waddle. His much larger asscheeks jiggled with every step and he could feel the fabric of whatever he was wearing getting sucked deeper into their massive crevice. What was weirder was that he felt like there was something else wrong that he felt when he walked, he just couldn’t pinpoint it.

Tyler was so freaked out over what was happening that he didn’t notice a bodybuilder exiting the stage and clapping him on a broadened, tanned shoulder. “Good luck out there, Hoechlin,” the unknown man told him, furthering his confusion.

Before he could say anything or ask for help, Tyler heard the announcer a lot more clearly. “And now for our next competitor, weighing in at an impressive 325 pounds, super heavyweight bodybuilder Tyler Hoechlin!” the announcer boomed.

On cue, Tyler felt his muscled legs propel him forward without any thought of his own. The former actor turned bodybuilder waddled out onto the stage, hearing the roaring crowd explode with applause as he walked to the center.

He wanted to run, humiliated that such a large crowd of men was seeing him in such a bulky and unnatural form, but instead of fleeing, Tyler felt himself smile widely. Then he threw his arms up into the air and formed a double biceps pose, flexing his massive biceps for the roaring crowd. He had no idea why he’d done that, but the new muscleman only continued to grin and show off his large biceps that put watermelons to shame.

Tyler felt his arms drop and then he turned around, presenting his back to the crowd. He playfully flexed his massive asscheeks, feeling them consume the back of his posers, making it look like the bulky stud was wearing a tiny thong.

Tyler screamed on the inside when he caught sight of himself flexing on the screen that was behind the stage, his eyes honing in on the minuscule bulge his posers contained. Instead of a girthy package, his junk looked hilariously small, looking as if he were smuggling a walnut in his posers. He didn’t want to know what his cock looked like when free of his posers, automatically envisioning it being some tiny nub that barely poked out from his trimmed bush.

Tyler felt his hands position themselves on his hips before forming a back lat spread pose, showcasing how wide and thick his back muscles were. He had no idea how he knew what the pose was, let alone how to correctly perform it. However, the stud was distraught when he desperately tried to think back to his time on the set of Teen Wolf or Superman & Lois, only to come up with a blank. Instead of acting, Tyler saw himself pursuing bodybuilding, aiming to become bigger and bigger and not caring how small the steroids he took made his cock.

He turned back around to face the crowd, pursing his lips flirtatiously as he started to form an abdominal and thigh pose, shoving his pelvis forward and effectively revealing to the crowd just how little he was working with now. As he showed off his vast form to the cheering crowd, Tyler could feel his heart speed up in his inflated chest, actually getting turned on.

He screamed on the inside, but the bodybuilder onstage only bounced his massive pecs for the crowd, basking in their cheers.

Tyler then bent over and formed a most muscular pose, feeling his nub get rock hard in his posers— but he was so tiny that no one could tell that all. His pathetic nub didn’t tent the pouch of his posers one bit.

In that instant, new memories filtered into the panicked stud’s mind, letting him know just how different his life was now. The bodybuilder loved to show off his massive form to anyone who was willing to look, especially men. He could barely find any clothes that fit over his bulky muscles, not that he cared. His new boyfriend, Dylan O’Brien (who loved to fuck his muscled bubblebutt), could only get him to wear a shirt if it were tight spandex, and his shorts had to be so small that they were borderline underwear. Tyler lived in the gym, working out religiously in order to grow his massive muscles, dreaming of being the biggest bodybuilder in the world. The entire time he grew his bulk, Tyler’s dick shrank smaller and smaller, further fueling the new bodybuilder’s humiliation.

But Tyler loved to show off. He got so turned on by being on display, loving it when men would comment about the massive muscleman with the microdick. Being on stage and flexing for random strangers was as good as sex, as was evident by his throbbing nub as he showed off.

“Uggh!” Tyler moaned loudly, shuddering, as he came onstage. Luckily for him, his cock was so tiny that no one in the crowd could tell that his puny nub had shot out a meager load. The only indication was the beet red complexion Tyler’s face had, and the tiny wet mark on the front of his posers.

“What an impressive set by super heavyweight Tyler Hoechlin!” the announcer boomed, letting the altered hunk know that his set was finished. “That one’s gonna be hard to beat!”

Tyler waved a muscled arm to the crowd and waddled off stage, still trying to piece together just what had happened to him. One second he was an actor bulking up for a role in the gym, and the next he’s some massive bodybuilder with a tiny dick cumming onstage at a competition. He was beyond humiliated over what he’d become… but so turned on. His heart was still racing with excitement and even though he was no longer onstage, Tyler’s pecs still twitched.

“Hey there, Tyler!” a small voice cheerfully called out, and the small guy with glasses from the gym walked over to the new bodybuilder. “That was a hot debut. And it looks like you enjoyed it too. Sorry about how small your dick is now though. It’s what? Four? Three inches?”

Tyler immediately connected the dots and knew that the nerdy guy was behind his transformation. He wanted to pummel the smaller man and demand that he be changed back. However, none of that occurred.

Instead, Tyler puffed his muscled chest out with pride. “It’s only one and half inches,” he guffawed. “But who needs that tiny thing when I got these big, sexy muscles.” He lifted a barely flexible arm and flexed a massive bicep in front of the smaller man’s grinning face.

“So I guess you like this more than being an actor?” he teased.

Tyler wanted to say that he hated being a massive bodybuilder with a microdick. He wanted to be changed back, to be his normal self. Instead, he felt himself shake his head and laugh. “No way, Little Man,” the muscleman boasted. “I love being a bodybuilder!” To emphasize his point, the inflated Tyler Hoechlin flexed his massive arms above his head, his tiny nub throbbing all over again.

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.