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.

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

Happy Birthday Tyler Hoechlin!

September 11th— Actor Tyler Hoechlin’s birthday!

The hunky actor sauntered about his house, dressed up in his new suit so that he could go attend a birthday function that his management was making him go to. Tyler huffed a little bit as he adjusted his tie, gazing at the form-fitting suit that made him look akin to 007, oozing masculine sex appeal. He’d even let his stubble grow out to complete his manly look which would be sure to get him tons of attention and interviews where he’d have the opportunity to promote his projects.

Tyler yawned loudly, already tired at the night’s events. Of course he loved being a world famous actor with scores of adoring fans. However, he was sort of just wanting to relax at home for his birthday, lounging out on the couch to just watch some TV and play video games. Maybe he’d invite Dylan O’Brien over; his old costar from Teen Wolf was in the area, filming some new movie. The two of them had said that they’d connect sometime, but with their busy schedules, they haven’t had the chance to yet.

“Alright,” Tyler sighed as he checked the Rolex on his thick wrist, “time for a long night.” He sighed again, his broad shoulders rising and falling with the motion, making his tight suit which was designed to show off his impressive musculature, shift too. 

As he walked towards the front door, he paused when he saw a pastel pink box sitting on the counter.

The stud cocked a confused eyebrow and walked over to it, examining the unmarked box. He flipped open the lid and saw that it was a simple, chocolate frosted cake with pink writing that spelt out in curvy letters: Happy Birthday Tyler!

Tyler couldn’t help the smile that stretched out his handsome face, genuinely touched at the kind gesture. There wasn’t a card or note to let him know who had gifted him the birthday cake, but he guessed that it was probably his new assistant who was still really nice and hadn’t been jaded by Hollywood yet.

The mouthwatering aroma of cocoa reached the man’s nostrils, and Tyler’s stomach gurgled with want as he stared at the delectable dessert.

“Damn,” he muttered, desperately wanting to have a quick slice, but with the party/advertisement in a few minutes, he couldn’t afford to eat any carbs that would disrupt his chiseled physique in his custom tailored suit.

Still, a little frosting wouldn’t hurt.

Tyler swiped up some chocolate frosting on his finger, popping it into his mouth with a deep moan.

“Mmmm!” Tyler moaned at the sweet, sugary taste of the frosting as he eagerly sucked his finger clean, leaving no trace behind. His tastebuds were alight with craving want, and his stomach growled loudly, demanding another taste.

Before manifesting the thought, Tyler felt his hand move down to the cake again, swiping up a much larger dollop of frosting this time, and greedily shoving it into his mouth. The sugary taste of the frosting was so delicious and all-consuming that it was all Tyler could do to remove his expensive suit jacket before slamming himself against the counter.

With both hands, and without a moment’s hesitation, Tyler Hoechlin grabbed handfuls of the chocolate cake, shoveling it into his mouth. The cake itself was just as sweet as the frosting, eliciting the same desperation and intense cravings.

Tyler’s moans filled out his house as he ate the entire pastry, unable to stop himself. The realization over this fact made his eyes widen as he tried to stop his large hands from scooping the cake into his mouth. He strained his muscles as hard as he could, but was powerless under whatever cryptic control the dessert had over him. He was aware of how wrong it was for him to be devouring an entire cake by himself, hunched over it like a pig, but he couldn’t stop.

“What’s happening to me?!” Tyler panicked between mouthfuls of food, his heart starting to race as he was about halfway finished with the cake, his clothes suddenly feeling tighter.

The legs of his slim-fit pants felt snugger by the second, especially on his thighs. The seat of them were growing tighter and tighter, so much that Tyler’s fear was commingled with an odd sense of relief when there was a loud rip followed by a release of pressure. The frazzled actor couldn’t even stop his body from gobbling up the cake long enough to look over a broad shoulder to assess the damage to his pants.

However, Tyler’s fear spiked when there was a pop, followed by the  light clattering of his shirt buttons falling onto the floor. It was then that he registered the extreme tightness of his shirt and the odd way he felt his stomach pressing against the counter in a way it never had before.

The actor gasped as best as he could with a mouth full of cake when he looked down and saw a large gut protruding from his opened shirt in place of where a set of cut abs should have been. No matter how panicked the stud was over his growing mass, he still couldn’t prevent himself from finishing off the rest of the chocolate cake, his stomach continuing to growl as he chewed the last bits.

“What… the… fuck?!” Tyler gasped as soon as he was finished with the dessert, the lingering taste of chocolate still consuming his mouth, making his sense of hunger swell and become almost unbearable.

Tyler shoved himself away from the counter, wincing when he felt his new gut jiggle with the movement. The actor rushed to the bathroom, his large gut dropping the second he looked in the mirror.

His handsome face looked almost the same, only it wasn’t as thin and his cheeks looked fuller. His shoulders appeared to be slightly broader, but it was just due to the thick layer of fat that now covered his muscular form. With a shaky hand, Tyler reached up with a heavy arm and poked at his shoulder, his heart racing when he felt a soft and squishy body as opposed to hard. His hairy pecs were still big, but they lost some of their definition, rounding out a bit as they drooped downward slightly. They weren’t full on moobs, but they were not the toned pectorals that he was used to, and there was no way he could fit the mounds that were capped with enlarged, nubby nipples into his Superman costume. Even his arms had packed on size, his new fat shrouding his muscular definition— the same happened with his widened thighs which now pressed together, causing his saunter to look more like a waddle. His pants had completely torn to shreds during his transformation, leaving the shocked actor in his red underwear which were strained to bursting over the large, meaty globes that had replaced his pert bubble butt. 

But worse of all for Tyler was the large, jiggling gut that jutted away from his torso at a severe angle and blocked his view of his lower half. The hairy mass was so large that Tyler had no idea how long he’d have to work out and diet in order to get his old physique back, annoyed that his stomach was still growling hungrily.

“H-how is this possible?” he mumbled in shock as he gave the fuzzy mass a tentative poke, immediately regretting it as that simple touch sent darts start to his cock. Tyler paled as he was rock hard from touching his large gut, his cock springing out of his underwear and bobbing in the air. However, the actor was irritated when he looked downward, his eight inch cock completely hidden underneath his massive gut.

Tyler Hoechlin had no idea what he was going to do with a massive bear-like body, looking like he had a dad bod except with a significantly larger belly. He knew that he couldn’t fit in his Superman costume at all, and his reprisal of Derek Hale in the Teen Wolf Movie was going to be difficult since this character didn’t have a large hairy, sensitive gut!

In a huff, Tyler waddled over to the scale and stepped on it, having to bend over in order to see the bright red letters: 342 lbs.

Tyler stumbled a little in shock, his gut bouncing wildly with his jerking motions. He grabbed onto the bathroom counter to steady himself, shocked that he’d magically gained 170 pounds just from eating a mysterious cake, nearly doubling his bodyweight… most of it apparently centered on his massive gut.

“What the fuck am I going to do with this thing— uh!” Tyler moaned as he grabbed at his gut in frustration, his cock throbbing at the touch, making him roll his head back. His hunger grew even more and his stomach growled louder.

Ding Dong! the doorbell sounded out.

Tyler was jostled out of his shock from his inflation, his heart racing in his larger chest. Given the small size of his house, he was able to lean out of the bathroom doorway and shout out.

“Wh-who is it?” he yelled, his voice cracking with nerves.

“It’s Dylan!” Dylan O’Brien called out from the other side of the front door. 

Tyler paled at the thought of someone seeing him in his inflated, bulky form. However, a growing part of him was getting a little excited over his past costar visiting him, his cock throbbing with desire at the thought.

“Your assistant told me come over for your birthday!” Dylan called out when Tyler didn’t answer. “I brought cake!”

At the same exact second, Tyler’s stomach growled and his cock leaked precum. He hurriedly rushed towards his room, ignoring his new bulk bouncing as he ran and the loud thuds his feet made. “Come in!” he called over his broadened shoulder. “I have to throw something on!”

Tyler rushed into his bedroom, frantically tearing through his closet as he tried to find some loose clothes that he could fit in. He found some basketball shorts that looked more like spandex as it stretched around his big booty and widened thighs. His shirt, which was XL, was way too small, and the actor groaned as he struggled to fit it over his inflated pecs. Once he had the tight blue fabric on, his nubby nipples poked conspicuously against the cotton and the bottom kept bunching up over his hairy gut. No matter how many times Tyler tried to pull it down over his protruding stomach, the shirt kept popping back up, leaving his jiggling bear gut on perfect display.

After taking a deep breath, Tyler waddled out to the living room where Dylan waited, his face cherry red over how much his hairy gut bounced when he walked. Once he laid eyes on the much smaller actor, his cock throbbed painfully with want. And once he spotted the pink box Dylan held, his stomach growled loudly, sounding more like an animal.

Dylan looked over at the inflated Tyler, his eyes bulging out of his skull as he took in the sheer size of the man. “Whoa!” he gasped. “Tyler! Y-you, uh, you look good.”

Tyler blushed as he looked down at his inflated self, holding his heavy arms out in jest. “Yeah, I’ve been bulking up for a role,” he laughed. He gestured towards the couch. “Come sit down. Let’s eat some of that cake.”

Dylan shrugged and happily sat down on the tiny sofa.

Tyler sat down beside him, his new weight causing the furniture to groan loudly. He winced as he felt his new gut settle in his lap, and the large weight discrepancy between him and Dylan caused the couch cushion to dip wildly. The tilt caused Dylan to nearly tumble over, being pressed tightly against Tyler’s bulky body.

“Oh, sorry Man!” Dylan blushed as he tried to sit up off of the other man, placing a hand down on Tyler’s hairy gut to steady himself.

“Oohh!” Tyler moaned as soon as Dylan touched his sensitive gut, arching his back and shoving his inflated belly into the other man’s touch. Dylan’s slender fingers traveling through the fur that covered it was like an electric wire, sending shocks of electricity straight to his hard cock that was still hidden under his tummy.  Tyler curled his toes and rolled his head back.

Dylan paused for a second before smirking. “You like belly rubs?” he teased. He continued to caress Tyler’s new gut, running his hands underneath the hair that coated it, which acted like little sensors that only increased its hypersensitivity.

“Y-yeah!” Tyler stuttered, squirming helplessly underneath the smaller man’s touch. He knew that he should be panicking over his massive weight gain, and wondering why he was suddenly so attracted to another guy. But his mind was turned to mush as his cock throbbed with every touch that his new gut brought him. In his lust-fueled haze, Tyler reached up and tore his useless shirt away from his bulk, exposing his huge hairy pecs.

Dylan took the message and reached over with his other hand, squeezing his inflated chest. His hands brushed over Tyler’s nubby nipples, turning the inflated stud into a moaning mess.

“D-don’t stop!” Tyler begged, feeling like putty as he squirmed, his entire bulk incredibly sensitive. He pictured himself on the sets of his TV shows in his new form. He could easily play Superman, just looking extra thicc as a superhero with a rotund gut and nubby nipples that poke through the skintight costume. And his character Derek Hale would look insanely hot with his large gut protruding through the opening of his trademark leather jacket. And if he could convince Dylan to give him more belly rubs, Tyler wouldn’t really mind if he kept his new gut… or if it got bigger.

Tyler let out a low, bellowing moan as he came, his untouched cock shooting globs of cum in his underwear. The inflated man had never came so much in his life, leaving him panting as he struggled to catch his breath, his huge gut heaving up and down as he gasped.

“Holy shit,” Tyler panted. “That was hot.”

“Sure was,” Dylan agreed. “Now what do you say we make that belly of yours a little bigger?” He held up the pink box, his smile growing when Tyler’s stomach growled.

Tyler snatched the cake out of the box, going to town, shoveling it into his mouth with one hand while keeping his other tightly secured around the smaller guy, keeping him tightly against his squishy belly.

“Happy birthday, Tyler,” Dylan laughed, rubbing Tyler’s inflated gut lovingly, enjoying the resulting moan and noticing that it was steadily growing larger and larger… 

“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.

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 ]

Dylan O’Brien sat back in the leather chair, enjoying the cool A/C as he waited in the office for the producers to return. He’d been called in to talk about a role in a TV show, which sounded nice, but the actor was more into movie roles. However, his manager had convinced him to hear them out.

The door opened and the producer, a buff looking older man, sauntered back into the room. “Hello there, Mr. O’Brien,” he warmly smiled. “It’s good to see you.”

“Likewise, and please call me ‘Dylan’,” the actor blushed.

The produced nodded as he took a seat on the other side of the large, wooden desk. “Very well, Dylan,” he grinned. “So let’s cut to the chase: we want to reboot Teen Wolf, and we would really like you to reprise your role as Stiles.”

Dylan bit down on his lower lip and twiddled his thumbs in front of himself. “Yeah, that sounds interesting, but canonically I believe the character of Stiles would no longer be a teenager, so I don’t really see myself fitting in well…”

The producer cleared his throat. “Oh, I didn’t quite explain it very well,” he hurriedly said. “This is more of a spin-off than it is a reboot. We’ve been doing a lot of research into the fanbase and I’m sure you’re well aware of the ‘Sterek’ phenomena. The show will be a hit if we focus it on you and Mr. Hoechlin’s character, and how the two of you develop your werewolf-human relationship.”

Again, Dylan wasn’t convinced. “I know Tyler’s busy with other projects, and I don’t think that he would be too keen—”

“He’s already on board!” the producer interrupted.

Dylan jerked back. “Really?” he gasped. “But I thought Superman & Lois was doing well?”

The producer nodded and pressed a button on the desk. “It was, but we managed to convince him to join our project instead,” he explained, the sounds of approaching footsteps audible on the other side of the office door. “He was a little apprehensive about being typecasted as a werewolf, but now he can’t imagine anything but playing canine characters.”

Dylan thought that that was an odd phrase, but before he could say anything, the door opened up.

“There he is now!” the producer cheered. “Tyler, come see Dylan!” He clapped his hands, making the actor cock his eyebrow in wonder.

“Woof! Woof!” Tyler Hoechlin barked like a dog as he scampered into the room on all fours. The older man was completely naked, letting his bulky muscles flex for the two other men in the room to see. He’d even let his chest hair grow out, and his hairy ass wiggled to and fro like an excited dog. More surprising to Dylan was the large dildo that stuck out of Tyler’s ass, sticking straight in the air and wagging back and forth like a makeshift tail. Tyler’s tongue lolled out of his mouth and when his eyes landed on Dylan’s horrified face, he lit up and hurried over.

“Wha—?!” Dylan panicked, speechless at the sight before him. He’d worked with Tyler for years and never before had he ever seen the man behave in such a manner. It didn’t take him long to know that there was something else afoot, his heart starting to race wildly in his chest.

“Woof!” Tyler excitedly barked as he rested his arms on Dylan’s lap, leaning forward to lick his face like a happy little puppy.

“Aww, he missed you,” the producer cooed, taking in the sight as if a grown man with a dildo stuck in his ass and licking another man was a normal sight to see.

“What did you do to him?” Dylan cried out, pushing against the man’s buff, hairy chest, only earning a whimper. 

However, his panicked fingers accidentally brushed against a protruding nipple, making the man-dog shudder. His bulky muscles tensed up and he rolled over on the ground onto his back, his large cock hardening to its full impressive length of eight inches. He held his arms close to his sides as a dog does on its back, looking at Dylan and whimpering with want, his hard cock bobbing in the air.

“Mr. Hoechlin here originally tried to turn us down, saying that he wasn’t interested in playing a werewolf again,” the producer mused. “So we had one of our departments convince him that he was made to play wolves. Right, Tyler?”

At the sound of his name, the man-dog flipped back over onto all fours and happily barked. “Woof! Woof!” He then felt his canine urges and crawled back over to Dylan, propping himself up as he began to hump his leg, grinding his hard cock against the shocked actor.

Dylan was too shocked to stop the man-dog from humping him, turning instead to stare down the producer who relaxed behind the desk. “Turn him back!” he demanded.

“He already signed the contract,” the man shrugged. “He’s stuck like this, so if you really wanna be a good friend, you’d join in on the project. It seems he’s taken a real shine to you. Besides, this is an interesting dynamic we’d like to explore on the show.”

Before he could answer, Tyler tensed up. “Arrooooo!” he howled as he came, shooting his load all over the other man’s jeans. When he was spent, his tongue hung out of his mouth and he panted, staying put at Dylan’s feet.

Dylan didn’t know what to do. Tyler Hoechlin was one of his best friends, and seeing him hypnotized to act like a dog all the time was a horrifying fate. As he stared down at him, Tyler looked up and wagged his tail.

“Fine,” Dylan sighed. 

The producer smiled widely. “Great!” he cheered. “We’ll send you the script tomorrow. For now, why don’t the two of you bond? I mean after all, he is your dog now.” He handed the actor a leash and a black, studded collar.

Feeling as if he were dreaming, Dylan affixed the collar around Tyler’s neck and snapped the leash on. The man-dog immediately jumped up on all fours and barked wildly, bouncing around like a dog who was excited to go for a walk. When the two men left the office, Tyler kept pulling at the leash, nearly dragging the smaller Dylan behind him.  Dylan was trying to piece together all that had happened, unsure if he were dreaming or not. His previous coworker was acting like a dog, and he appeared to either have no control over it or the old Tyler was completely gone, replaced by this man-dog. Dylan tried to look deep into Tyler’s eyes for any indication that he was in there somewhere, but all he saw were the loving and admiring eyes of a puppy staring back up.

“Woof!” Tyler happily barked when the two of them exited the building, sticking his nose into the air to sniff the outside breeze.

“Shit!” Dylan hissed when he realized that he was walking a naked man with a dildo shoved in his ass outside in public for all to see. The sidewalk was full of people coming and going, and the two men were out in the open. Despite being the one in control of his body and being fully clothed, Dylan’s face was cherry red with embarrassment for his friend.

However, nobody seemed to look twice. Some people did a double-take, only to comment to their companion that they’d seen the actors from Teen Wolf, not even caring to mention that Tyler Hoechlin was naked and wagging a footlong dildo back and forth like it was a damn tail. Someone even walked too close to them, and Tyler responded by placing himself in front of Dylan, puffing out his hairy chest and growling, baring his teeth.

“No!” Dylan scolded, tugging on his leash. “Bad dog!” He winced at his words, but shook it off and led Tyler to his car. Tyler leapt into the passenger seat, positioning himself like a dog in the small seat. Dylan hurried into the driver’s seat and sped off, eager to get his friend out of view from prying eyes.

Tyler leaned over as he drove, nuzzling against the other man and licking his face again.

Needing to focus on the road, Dylan sighed and rolled down Tyler’s window, somehow knowing that Tyler would lean his head out like a dog. He looked over at his man-dog of a friend, vowing that he’d take care of him.

“Don’t worry Tyler,” he promised the man-dog, “it’ll be okay.” He moved pat him on the shoulder, and at the slightest touch, Tyler’s cock shot to life.