Another Issue Of Mens Fatness, Featuring Tyler Hoechlin

Another issue of men’s fatness, featuring Tyler Hoechlin

"You ever seen biceps this big, Little Guy?" Matt teased, flexing his bowling ball sized bicep and shoving it into the smaller bodybuilder's face. He couldn't fight the large smirk on his cocky face, knowing deep down that his win was practically guaranteed since he easily outweighed every other competitor.

"...yeah," the smaller bodybuilder muttered, his eyes honing in on the small bulge in front of Matt.

The skintight pink posers easily showcased just how little the superheavyweight bodybuilder's manliest muscle was. Thanks to his massive amounts of fans and online followers, everyone knew of the imposing muscle man with the tiny cock. The other men in the gym where he worked out would sometimes gain a sneak peek of Matt's small dick, shocked speechless at the two inch nub and marble-sized balls that the stud possessed, looking all the more hilarious attached to such a hulk of a man.

At first, Matt was beyond humiliated at the thought of people seeing his microdick, but in the end, that only pushed him to grow his muscles all the more bigger.

The large Matt saw his competitor's line of sight and snorted. "May be small," he countered, "but I'm bigger where it matters." He leaned forward and performed an impressive most muscular pose, loving the look of dread on the other man's face; and not at all bothered by how tiny his bulge looked as it was thrusted forward by his wide thighs.

"H-hey, what kind of chemicals are in the pool? My chest feels funny... and heavier..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

— — —

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

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

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

Weirder was that his bulk was so sensitive.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You doing okay?” the young man asked.

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

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

“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.