"You Ever Seen Biceps This Big, Little Guy?" Matt Teased, Flexing His Bowling Ball Sized Bicep And Shoving

"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.

Request: Could you beef this man up into a total muscle daddy?

Caleb couldn’t help but scrunch up his face in disgust when he overheard the gay couple cooing sugary things to one another. The football-playing stud didn’t have a problem with gay guys whatsoever, but he found it disgusting when the thinner one referred to the other as “Daddy”.

“Disgusting,” he muttered under his breath as he walked into the bathroom, unaware of the mischievous glares from the gay couple.

Caleb sauntered into the bathroom and did his business. As he was washing his hands, he looked up into the mirror and couldn’t help but feel the swell of pride that blossomed in his chest at the serious gains he’d made. He straightened up and snapped a picture to post onto his Instagram, making sure to flex a large bicep.

He posted the picture and before he knew what he was doing, tagged it with #Daddy.

“What the hell?” he grunted as he posted the picture, unsure why he’d just done that. He deleted the picture and snapped another one, this one with him making sure to puff out his chest a little bit to show off his chiseled pecs.

When he posted it, this time as if his thumbs were possessed, he tagged it with #MuscleDaddy and #DaddyAF.

“What the fuck is going on?” Caleb roared as he tried to edit the tags, but his thumbs would not cooperate. In a frustrated huff, he tossed his phone down onto the counter of the bathroom sink and splashed some water on his face. However, his stomach dropped when he felt something completely wrong.

In a flash, Caleb rubbed the water away from his eyes and stared into the mirror, his jaw dropping as he watched dark stubble grow at a rapid rate along his previously smooth jaw. He was in shock and awe as he watched the dark hair take over, but his focus soon shifted when his chest started to itch. He absentmindedly scratched at it, wincing when he saw tuffs of chest hair starting to sprout and curl over the collar of his shirt.

“Holy shit!” he boomed in a deeper sounding voice when he witnessed his muscles starting to inflate. His biceps bulged even further underneath a dense forest of hair and the seams on his jeans struggled to contain his widening thighs and ass that bubbled out even more. The front of his jeans bulged outwards as he felt his cock lengthen and start to plump up. In his panicked state of mind, Caleb struggled to unzip the tightening pants, unleashing the now ten inch cock that was almost as thick as a beer can.

He was speechless as his body continued to change, but the worst had yet to come.

“No!” Caleb cried when he saw his gut starting to push outwards. The stud had prided himself on his chiseled abs which he’d always shown off online. However, his gut continued to inflate and round out in front of him. His tight t-shirt sprung upwards and rested on top of the protruding hairy tummy, unable to shield it from view. Caleb poked at it, a little relieved that it seemed to be solid, more akin to a roidgut than just fat. Even his pecs puffed out and inflated so much that they rested on his new gut, his nipples enlarging to poke conspicuously against the straining fabric of his shirt.

RIIPPPP!

Caleb’s broadening, hairy back tore the t-shirt to shreds, and the shocked inflated stud was forced to stare at his beefy new body. His hairy gut protruded out in front of him and his pecs and nipples were so large that no shirt would ever be able to conceal them.

He whimpered when he saw crow’s feet starting to form near his eyes, and a few of the hairs on his new beard turned gray, illustrating the many years that the stud had just had sucked away.

“Wh-what the fuck happened to me?” Caleb bellowed in his deeper voice as he examined his beefy, older body. Unwanted, hairy bulk kept rubbing up against itself as he moved, and the hunk couldn’t see anything but inflated pecs and his large musclegut whenever he glanced downwards. His large thighs rolled around each other as he tried to walk, his gait resembling something like a waddle.

The bathroom door opened up and the thin gay guy from earlier walked in, running his eyes up and down Caleb’s inflated form.

“Well hey there, Daddy,” he teased, giving Caleb a knowing wink.

At the name, Caleb’s giant cock twitched to life, and the new bear blushed as his ten inches stood out in front of him. He was only able to know this by looking in the mirror since his gut blocked its view from above. “Wh-what did you call me?” Caleb stuttered, his heart racing in his inflated chest as his eyes ran up and down the younger man’s form.

The guy giggled and walked up to the beefy muscle daddy, running an admiring hand up and down the protruding gut that was evidently sensitive too. “I called you, ‘Daddy’,” he whispered.

Celeb shuddered as the smaller guy’s fingers ran through his thick chest hair, and his cock twitched with want as a small bead of precum started to leak out.

“Let’s head to my place and I’ll take care of that for you, Daddy.”

The other guy managed to tuck Caleb’s monster cock back into his pants and zipped up the front. Caleb looked back at his reflection and winced as it looked as if he were smuggling a cucumber in his pocket. He was too shocked to say anything and was so focused on the way his beefy chest fluttered when the guy took him by the hand and led him out of the bathroom.

When he finally snapped back to his senses, Caleb blushed furiously as he realized that he was walking (or waddling) hand-in-hand with a much younger looking and thinner guy. Worse was that his new inflated form was on full display to the other people who were walking around, all of them getting a full view of his musclegut and pillow-like pecs that were capped off with nubby nipples. He knew that something horrible had happened to him, that he was supposed to be the 21 year old straight jock who had a muscular and toned body. He wasn’t supposed to be some older musclebear who showed off his thick, hairy chest everywhere he went because no shirt could ever fit over it.

But he couldn’t deny how turned on he was by the immense weight of his gut and pecs pulling on his front, and by the way his bulky arms rested on his flaring lats. And even the wind blowing across his dense chest hair sent a shock of pleasure through him, making his thick cock throb and a large wet mark appear on the front of his jeans.

“Doing okay, Daddy?” his younger companion asked, patting his musclegut reassuringly.

Caleb shuddered again and wrapped a large arm around the other man’s thin shoulders, feeling a protective contentment as the man’s smaller body was pressed against his hairy bulk.

“Daddy’s doin’ just fine, Baby,” Caleb playfully growled.

Derek scowled in the mirror as he examined his new muscled body. Although his previous form had been sculpted, his new body was now officially massive, making him look like a competitive bodybuilder. His pecs protruded far off his chest and his arms were so thick that they rested akimbo atop flaring lats. His thighs were so round and thick with muscle that they transformed his strut into a waddle.

The alpha werewolf inwardly cursed, berating himself for asking for Peter’s help when it came to the unending threats to his territory.

“What’s wrong, Derek?” Peter smirked from the other side of the room, crossing his arms over his own impressive, yet way smaller than Derek’s, chest. “You asked me to make you stronger, and I did just that.”

Derek gave the older werewolf one of his classic glares, puffing out his thick chest with power to try and intimidate him. “Yes,” he spat, malice dripping in his voice, “you did make me bigger... but, did you also have to make me smaller?!”

He moved a barely-flexible arm towards the tiny bulge that was covered up by his posers. Traveling down his washboard stomach, the way his waist pinched inwards before flaring out at his thighs brought the eye’s attention directly to his front. Since his massive thighs were constantly pressed against one another, they thrusted his bulge forward, highlighting just how tiny it looked when compared to the rest of his bulky frame.

And it wasn’t just due to comparisons, as Derek had initially thought when the power spell had been cast. He’d believed that it was an optical illusion due to how thick and muscular he’d became, but the very second he’d taken his boyfriend, Stiles, to the bedroom to explore his new bodybuilder frame together, he’d nearly passed out at the pathetic two inch nub and cherry tomato-sized balls that had replaced his formerly girthy package. It was a tiny cock that would look ridiculously small on anyone, let alone a massive championship-sized bodybuilder. What was worse was that, due to his massive body, all of his clothes were rendered skintight, showing off the flat front of his jeans, painfully illustrating how tiny the muscleman was.

Peter shrugged his shoulders. “I told you there were side effects,” he hummed. “I could turn you back to your regular body. But that wouldn’t guarantee that your dick would return to normal size.”

Derek paled at his two options:

1. Have his normal proportions, except with his eight inches stuck as a measly two.

2. Be a three-hundred pound bodybuilder with massive muscles... and a tiny cocklet.

“I’ll keep the muscles,” Derek growled as he waddled off towards his and Stiles’s room, annoyed at the fact that he was painfully hard from feeling his massive bulk rubbing up against itself. However, thanks to the pathetic size of his nub, it barely tented out his posers at all.

“You better fix this!”

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

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

-- -- --

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

-- -- --

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

-- -- --

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

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

*This last photo is from @alec789​

Tyler Hoechlin was in his dressing room, putting on the retro-looking Superman suit that his manager had told him to wear. The fabric was smooth to the touch and felt good as it covered the actor’s bulging muscles, making them appear larger as the blue material hugged every contour.

However, the red briefs felt way too tight for Tyler’s comfort. Although his impressive ass was semi-comfortable, his junk felt like it was caught in a vice grip, being squeezed by the tightness of the crotch area.

“This feels a bit too tight,” Tyler complained to his manager as he stepped out of the dressing room. The front of the briefs was constricting his famous eight incher so badly that it resulted in the actor having to waddle a bit to reduce the pain and prevent his balls from spilling out the sides and pressing against the thin blue fabric for all to see.

The manager barely glanced up from his iPhone, just grunting out a simple, “You’re fine.”

Tyler wanted to argue and ask for a larger brief, but the director’s voice boomed out, stopping him.

“Ready on set!” he yelled out. “Hoechlin!”

The Superman actor huffed, his broad shoulders rising and falling, stretching the fabric of his tight suit to the limit as he did so. With a grimace on his handsome face, he waddled on set, posing next to a destroyed green vehicle. When he turned to face the camera, he saw on one of the monitors that the suit make his cock look a bit smaller thanks to how much it squeezed it. 

He rolled his eyes and puffed out his impressive pectorals as a means of compensation.

“Action!” the director yelled out.

Forcing his bravado into his voice, Tyler Hoechlin recited his lines, acting like he was searching the damaged vehicle for any trapped passengers. As he moved around the prop, he could feel the stretchy material of the blue fabric clinging tightly to his muscles, making them pop out even more. Deep down, he was happy about that, already visualizing the online comments lusting over his hard-earned muscles. However, he was still annoyed at how confined his cock and balls felt in the small briefs. 

As the script demanded, Tyler continued to circle around the prop vehicle, breathing a little easier as he felt the tight, painful material of the red briefs starting to gradually loosen up.

That made it a lot easier for the actor to maneuver around the prop and perform his lines. As he walked, his waddle was reduced to his regular strut, the material apparently making room for his large balls, which no longer threatened to spill out… in fact, they started to feel comfortably cradled by the tight briefs. His cock was no longer being squeezed as well, and it wasn’t long until Tyler was back to his normal saunter, barely even noticing the feeling of the red briefs on his junk anymore.

“Lookin’ great, Hoechlin!” the director cheered when the actor finished his lines for the scene.

Tyler crossed his arms over his buff chest and watched one of the side monitors as it replayed the footage, trying to catch sight of any tiny mistake that he could fix. He was actually pleased with how he looked, admiring how his pecs and biceps were accentuated by the new costume, and even smirking the slightest bit at how his cock was straining against the red briefs on screen. The more he watched, however, the more he realized that something was horribly wrong.

Tyler watched in shock as the footage on the screen showed the actor sauntering around the prop as his massive red bulge in front of him visibly shuddered. His stomach dropped as he saw what looked like his impressive package starting to shrink, the bulge looking smaller and smaller by the second, the change in his gait coinciding with the change in his girth. His cock and balls keep shrinking until his bulge was minuscule, barely visible on the screen at all.

Tyler knew it was impossible, but he still had to take a deep breath to psyche himself up before he glanced down at himself. Looking over his large pecs, the actor paled at the flatness of the red briefs he wore.

Without a word, the actor sprinted off the set and back to the dressing room. The entire time he ran, he winced at the absent sensation of his package between his legs.  “That’s impossible,” he huffed to himself as he ran. “It can’t shrink! That’s impossible!”

He burst through the door of his dressing room and frantically tore the Superman costume off of himself. With his chest bare, he hooked his thumbs into the straps of the red briefs, inwardly pleading that his eyes and the footage were wrong. He yanked the briefs downward, nearly passing out at what he saw.

Instead of his impressive eight inch cock and golfball-sized balls, the actor wailed at the sight of his two inch nub and balls that resembled cherry tomatoes and were tight against his skin. With a shaky hand, the actor reached down and gripped his pathetic nub, only able to grab it with two fingers thanks to how small it was now. His large chest heaved with panic and when he looked in the mirror in the dressing room, he saw how ridiculous he looked with such massive muscles and a tiny, barely visible cock.

There was a banging knock on the dressing room door, startling the altered stud. “Tyler! What’s wrong?” his manager called out. “C’mon! We got a scene to shoot!”

Tyler blushed with humiliation over what happened to him, not fully comprehending how it was possible. “D-dude,” he stuttered, unsure how to voice his concerns, “my cock… it fuckin’ shrank!”

“What?” his manager laughed incredulously as he entered the dressing room, immediately going silent at the sight of the tiny mushroom barely poking out of the actor’s trimmed bush. “What happened?” 

“I don’t know!” Tyler cried, gesturing down at the small nub he now possessed. “What should I do? Should I go to the hospital?” Still the thought of the doctors seeing how small his cock was now made him want to hide. His career was ruined. There was no way he could play hunky roles if he was rocking only two inches.

His manager shook his head, biting down on his lip. “We have a very tight schedule,” he huffed. “Get dressed and get back out there or else they’ll look for another Superman.”

Tyler wanted to argue, but for some reason, the actor felt himself pulling the tight Superman costume back on. With a hesitant look in the mirror, he whimpered at his bulky muscles and barely present lump in the front of his briefs, already envisioning the online comments:

Tyler Hoechlin — Big Muscles, Tiny Dick!

“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.