This Stud Is A Sure Win At The Superheavyweight Competition!

This stud is a sure win at the Superheavyweight competition!

Hope these help inspire you?! What would you do to these three hotties?

The stud in the purple board shorts does give me a devious idea... 😈

-- -- --

Braxton relaxed by the pool at the expensive resort, soaking up the hot sunbeams. The stud had thousands of followers on his social media accounts, and had gotten an invite to the mysterious resort out of the blue. He'd figured that the resort was trying to get some more patronage and had sought the sexy stud's influencer status.

The stud rubbed some of the resort's brand sunblock onto his skin, letting his chiseled muscles absorb the creamy concoction. The residual film from the lotion left his muscles glistening underneath the noon sun.

Braxton relaxed back in his lounge chair, feeling as if his body was tingling from the sunblock. He ignored it, figuring that it was nothing.

He folded his muscled arms behind his head, enjoying the way the action made his pecs pop and look bigger. Already, just from lying out in the sun, he noticed that there was a little more tan to his skin, which made the contours of his muscles all the more noticeable.

Braxton relaxed and let the time pass, the tingling sensation on his muscles growing stronger by the second until it finally dissipated.

"Hey! What are you doing just lying around?" a voice barked out at Braxton.

The confused stud opened his eyes and looked over at the resort employee who crossed his arms over his chest, looking at the stud expectantly.

"Huh?" Braxton wondered aloud, flinching when he heard the deeper quality of his voice. He cleared his throat and tried again. "What are you talking about?" Still, his voice had an unknown baritone quality to it.

"We didn't hire you to lounge around, Poolboy!" the employee huffed. "Now get up! The guests are getting restless."

Braxton was confused as to what the other guy was talking about, yet, he felt himself get off the lounge chair and stand up. However, the moment he was on his feet, everything felt wrong.

Arms collided with lats, and his chest felt incredibly heavy. His thighs felt as if they pushed against each other, and Braxton had to adjust his stance a little wider. The hunk looked downward and gasped loudly.

He was huge!

The first thing the hunk saw was a shelf of a chest, his pecs practically ballooning off his chest. They were insanely round and incredibly tan, looking as if he lived to work out and went around shirtless all the time. Below his massive pecs was a cobblestone of abs, followed by a thick snake-like cock that pressed against his tight board shorts. His arms had thickened up significantly, hanging at his sides at a ninety degree angle. Braxton looked like a total bodybuilder, insanely musclebound and tan.

"Wh-what happened?" he stammered in his deep voice, struggling to poke at his massive muscles, but his biceps and pecs kept pushing against each other, severely limiting his range of motion.

The employee rolled his eyes. "Poolboy," he muttered, "hurry up and clean the pool. And make sure to flex a little bit."

Braxton wanted to argue, to point out that he wasn't supposed to look like he did. However, the tan bodybuilder waddled over towards one of the sheds and pulled out a skimmer, before moving back towards the pool.

Despite himself, Braxton felt himself start to clean the pool, a wide smile forming on his face. The other resort patrons looked his way, and once they made eye contact, the stud couldn't help but flex his massive muscles, showing off his new musculature for every other guy there.

Braxton found himself unable to stop working around the pool, showing off his massive muscles for every other guest around. To his horror, he found himself enjoying it, his cock rock hard as he showed off, acting like the slutty poolboy he now was.

Joe knew that he was a sure win for the new category at bodybuilding competitions: Smallest Cock.

At two inches hard, he knew that no one was smaller than him. Just see how happy he is with his massive muscles and microdick!

Derek Hale and the Chocolate Factory

Derek Hale was not looking forward to wasting his Saturday touring some random chocolate factory. However, his boyfriend, Stiles, had somehow managed to come by one of the elusive Golden Tickets, and therefore, the alpha werewolf found himself being dragged around the semi-magical candy factory, surrounded by annoying children (and Stiles). Plus, Derek was never a fan of sweets.

The tour group followed the eccentric owner, Wonka, around the factory as he rambled on and on about stuff that Derek wasn't paying any attention to. "...and this is a prototype that we've been working on..." the older man ranted as he showed off what looked like a simple stick of gum.

When Derek got close to it, the werewolf huffed and popped the stick of gum into his mouth, figuring that it was yet another free sample on the tour that he'd get looks from Stiles for turning down again. Seriously, he'd had so much sugar already that he was getting a headache. But not wanting to upset his boyfriend, he chomped down on the gum, cocking his fuzzy eyebrow when the rest of the tour group gasped at him.

"What?" he asked.

"Der, it's a prototype," Stiles whispered to him, "we're not supposed to eat it."

Derek huffed. "We were literally asked to lick the damn walls earlier, and now you're telling me I can't chew gum?" The werewolf paused when the gum in his mouth seemed to take on a different flavor, but instead of being disgusted by the overtly sweet sensation, he actually enjoyed the taste of blueberry. "This... this is actually pretty good."

Stiles immediately forgot the indiscretion that was committed and happily grasped onto Derek's buff arm. "What's it taste like?" he asked.

Derek swished his tongue around, a faint smile finally appearing on his usually grumpy face. "Blueberry."

Wonka cleared his throat. "Um, I wouldn't do that if I were you. We usually have some troubles when the blueberry course happens..."

"What do you mean?" Derek asked, the blueberry flavor increasing in his mouth.

The rest of the group gasped loudly again, further confusing the werewolf.

Stiles, luckily, had no problem with blurting out loud what everyone else was witnessing. “Derek!” he exclaimed, sounding both worried and excited. “You’re face! It’s turning blue!”

“What do you mean…?” Derek’s voice trailed off when he looked down at his hands, his eyes widening when he saw his pale skin taking on a bluish hue. The cyanosis was subtle at first, but soon it deepened until his skin was flushed deep blue, almost violet. “What the fuck’s going on?”

Wonka, looking uninterested, shrugged before blowing some weird tune on some flute that he kept in his jacket lapel. “This always happens when it comes to blueberries,” he muttered, his voice laced with disappointment.

“What happens?” Stiles frantically asked.

Before the candyman could answer, a loud pop was heard.

Derek looked down, and would’ve blushed red if his blue skin would allow, at the sight of his pants button bursting from his inflating midsection. His formerly flat stomach steadily pushed outwards, rounding into a rotund gut that caused his blue t-shirt to stretch over it. In fact, Derek’s entire body was steadily inflating, the sweet taste of blueberries intensifying in his mouth as he grew.

“What’s happening to me?” Derek panicked, looking over at Wonka with worry, fighting hard to prevent his alpha red eyes from flashing.

“You’re turning into a blueberry,”Wonka hummed, nodding at the little oompa loompas who entered the room. “We need to get you to the juicing room as soon as possible.”

“A blueberry?!” Derek roared, wincing when he looked down at his rounding body. His midsection had grown so much that even his upper torso and lower half were starting to round out, making him look like a giant blue ball. He had grown so large that his arms and legs had gotten so stumpy that they appeared to sink into his blueberry body, leaving him with flailing hands and unsteady feet. 

It was only a matter of seconds before Derek stood in the center of the room, colored dark blue and perfectly rotund, like a giant blueberry.

“You have to fix this-ssshhhh!” Derek demanded, but his voice was a bit cut off when he felt his cheeks starting to inflate, rounding out and making him look like a chipmunk with its mouth full of nuts. In his irritation, he tried to stomp his foot angrily. However, the massive amount of blueberry juice inside of him sloshed around too much and caused him to lose his balance off his stubby feet, making the round werewolf roll helplessly onto his back.

Derek tensed up at the feeling of the small oompa loompas walking up to him and literally rolling him away through large metal doors, like he was some oversized exercise ball. The juice in his round body sloshed noisily and he was getting dizzy from being rolled through the factory, beyond humiliated at his predicament…

— — —

“Shoot, I can’t believe there was secret contest to win the factory!” Stiles pouted as he and his boyfriend stomped through the parking lot towards his Jeep. “And we lost!”

“Yeah, sorry about that…” Derek growled, still trying to get used to the jiggling sensation from his gut every time he walked. 

The werewolf was still a dark blue color, feeling completely ridiculous. What was worse was that the juicing room had tried to empty him of as much blueberry juice as it could, but it couldn’t get all of it out, leaving Derek looking like he was stuck in some serious bulking phase. His t-shirt strained over his beefy, blue body, and his large (but much more manageable than before) gut protruded out the bottom of his shirt and loudly sloshed with every step. His butt was puffed up significantly, so the werewolf had to borrow a pair of sweatpants since his own jeans wouldn’t fit— and the sweatpants were still painted on over his new dump trunk. Derek figured that he must’ve kept at least sixty pounds from his blueberry fiasco. Even his face looked a bit round still, making him sneer whenever he caught his own reflection in one of the car mirrors.

Derek huffed as he struggled to settle into the passenger seat, his rotund booty making it difficult to get comfortable. And he had to stretch the seatbelt nearly to its limit in order to make it fit over his beefy body. He winced at the foreign sensation of his large gut resting on his lap, the blue mass clearly visible as it poked out into the open.

As soon as Stiles started up the vehicle, the radio blasted with “Blue” by Eiffel 65. “♪ I’m blue, da ba dee—” 

Stiles shut it off and blushed as he looked at his scowling, blue boyfriend. “My bad.”

[This is a story that I'm dropping from the "30 Days of Derek Hale" that I'm planning because I thought of something else I'd rather do.]

-- -- --

Stiles typed away on his laptop, yawning loudly as he tried to stay awake and finish the paper he needed for his college class. It was due tomorrow, and of course he’d waited until the last minute. 

He finally had the cover page finished when there was a loud thump at his window, and the spastic human jolted out of his chair when he saw none other than the brooding werewolf, Derek Hale, standing the shadows.

“Holy shit!” Stiles breathed, clutching at his chest as his heart raced like crazy. “Derek? What are you doing here? And why don’t you use the front door like a sane—”

“Stop talking, Stiles,” Derek growled, his irritated face hidden by the nighttime shadows in the bedroom, but Stiles already knew that he was probably scowling at him. “I… *sigh, need your help.”

Stiles stepped away from his desk, knowing that if the alpha of Beacon Hills was coming to him for something, then it must’ve been serious. “What is it?” he cautiously asked.

Again, Derek let out a low sigh, a growl audible in his deep voice. “We ran into a witch coven tonight,” he spat. “And… and I was hit by a certain spell.”

Stiles let out a gasp. “Oh shoot!” he breathed, taking a step forward. “Are you okay? What happened? What does it do?”

Derek held his hand out, stopping the human in his tracks. “It’s a lie detector spell,” Derek groaned. 

“So you’re forced to tell the truth?” Stiles pressed.

Derek huffed again. “No,” he growled, “I can still lie, it’s just that whenever I do, this…”

The werewolf took a deep breath and stepped out into the dim light of Stiles’s room. The human held his breath to avoid laughing the minute he saw Derek’s altered face. Everything about the werewolf appeared the same, except for his nose which had lengthened to about five inches long, making him like he’d been ripped directly out of Pinocchio.

Derek scowled when he spotted Stiles trying to hold back a laugh. “This isn’t funny!” he roared, pointing at his face. “What am I supposed to do with this thing? And if you don’t recall, I am a werewolf. I can’t exactly be having my nose grow if I deny that fact out in public!”

“You’re right,” Stiles said, letting a little chuckle escape from his red face. He paused for a moment. “But, why did you come here? You could’ve gone to Deaton, but you came here.”

Derek visibly winced. “R-right,” he stuttered, not making direct eye contact with Stiles. “Deaton was busy, so I came here…” The alpha tensed up and his already large nose appeared to pull further away from his stunned face, growing another half-inch, indicating that he’d lied.

Derek’s face went from pale to bright red as Stiles cocked his eyebrow at him.

“You didn’t even try calling Deaton, did you?” he accused.

Derek’s jaw tightened and his rolled his eyes. “Fine, I didn’t!” he huffed. His big nose remained the same elongated size, indicating that even when he admitted the truth after a lie, his nose remained altered. “Now we need to figure out how to fix this!”

Stiles dropped it for the moment and nodded. “Fine,” he agreed, sitting back at his laptop to start searching up spells and Pinocchio-esque phenomena. He feverishly tried to uncover some sort of lead or possible way to fix Derek.

Speaking of, Derek stalked forward and knelt down next to Stiles, silent as he watched him research. His large nose protruded so far off of his face that it was beginning to block some of his view. 

Stiles’s typing paused and he looked over at Derek once more. “So wait,” he wondered aloud, “why me? I thought you hated me.”

Derek’s jaw clenched again, and he glared down at the human for a second. “Right,” I muttered, flinching when his nose lengthened once again. “Damn it!” He shoved himself away from the desk in a huff, wondering how he was going to walk around with a large Pinocchio nose. All the while, things would be made even worse if people realized that it grew only when he lied.

Stiles straightened his posture and spun his chair around to stare down the big-nosed werewolf. He crossed his arms over his chest and turned his head to the side. “You hate me, right?” he pressed again.

Derek’s mouth was pressed into a thin line, but his shoulders eventually fell. “No, I don’t hate you,” he finally said, his nose remaining the same size. 

Stiles, being the instigator that he was, couldn’t help but smile to himself. “Aww,” he teased the angry werewolf, “so you like me?”

Derek just put on his usual scowl and glared at the human once more.  “No,” he spat out of instinct, his nose stretching out even further, about seven inches long by now. “…fuck.”

Stiles, having always harbored a major attraction for the alpha werewolf, had his jaw drop in shock at what he witnessed. Apparently, Derek, who would always snarl and glare at him, didn’t view him as an apparent waste of space. “You do!” he exclaimed. “Holy crap, you do like me!”

Derek swallowed down his growl. “Yes, Stiles, I like you. Happy?” he snapped. However, his nose still grew the slightest bit, looking even more unreal. It jutted off the werewolf’s face by at least eight inches now, and it’s cylindrical appearance truly added to its cartoonish aura. Derek looked like he was a cartoon character, looking like he’d been cast in a real life Pinocchio remake. He ran a shaky hand through his hair as he realized the predicament that he really was in.

Stiles’s heart sped up and he swallowed loudly. “I mean… you… what?” he mumbled, his mind racing a million miles a minute. He knew that he was supposed to help Derek break his spell, but he was so caught up in what was thrown into his face.

Derek’s broad shoulders fell and his head rolled back, his large nose flying quickly through the air at the movement. “I… love you.”

Derek’s nose stayed the same size.

The werewolf blushed and looked away from Stiles, not wanting to see his reaction. He was an alpha and knew that he had to uphold a tough look and front in order to protect his territory. Therefore, he wasn’t used to being all mushy.

Instead of laughing, like what Derek had expected him to do, Stiles reached over and kissed Derek’s stubbly cheek. 

Derek winced and turned to look at the human in shock. He momentarily forgot his large nose, cut up in the rush of emotion that he felt.

Stiles smiled warmly and placed a soft hand on his shoulder. “I love you, too,” he said, and his regular heartbeat indicated that he was telling the truth. “And, Pinocchio is my favorite Disney movie.”

Love this!

Superman’s Super Body

“Did you guys do something different to the costume?” Tyler Hoechlin asked as he examined the spandex suit. He had been ecstatic about being able to play Superman in the new Supergirl series, but seeing the outfit he became slightly less enthused. It wasn’t the fact that his body wasn’t up to par; compared to most people he was someone fresh off the cover of GQ. His abs were tight, his muscles are large, and his pecs were firm; there wasn’t one piece of him that he would change. “Nope exactly the same,” the male customer designer said as he pulled the super suit from Tyler’s hands. Tyler raised an eyebrow. Last time he looked at the costumer there was much more to the costume; much, much more to the costume. “Go ahead and strip and we can try it on,” the designer said forcefully. Tyler paused. “We need to make sure it fits properly.” Tyler thought it seemed right especially with the changes that the designer was denying. He wasn’t even sure he could fit his broad body into the formfitting suit.

Tyler grasped onto the hems of his shirt and lifted it over his head showing off his hard furry stomach. Even though Tyler’s head was covered by his shirt he knew the designer was staring at him. Tyler had caught Joey staring at him when he had changed in front of him before during their previous times together trying on other clothes or getting his measurements. His attraction was painfully obvious during the times when he had to be measured by the designer. Joey’s hands would linger on his large pectorals or on his inner thighs, pulling the tape measure far enough so that his hand grazed his cock. Tyler chopped it up to unrequited lust.

After Tyler tossed his shirt to the side he turned his back to the designer and dropped his pants to the floor showing off a tight pair of boxer briefs. Tyler wasn’t sure what was worse, showing Joey his front of showing off his backside. He had been told my many different women that his ass was his best feature. Tyler looked over his shoulder, catching Joey staring intently at his ass. “Can I get the suit,” Tyler asked, reaching out his muscled hand to the designer. Joey handed the suit over; his eyes never leaving Tyler’s bare body. Tyler took the suit in hand and stepped his feet into the bottom of the suit feeling the tight spandex. The suit clung tightly to his calves as he pulled the suit upward, feeling the suit increase in tightness as he went further up his body. Tyler pushed his hands into the armholes, adjusting it onto his shoulders and stood up straight.

“Ugh,” Tyler groaned as he pulled the extremely fitted suit over the rest of his body feeling the spandex stretch over every inch of his body. “Can I get some help with the zipper?” Tyler asked, looking towards the mirror. Seeing the iconic S on his chest made him feel pride and excited about landing such an iconic role.

“No problem. We need to adjust the backside some first,” Joey said as he pressed his hands onto Tyler’s cheeks. His cold hands causing gooseflesh to ripple across his skin. Joey grabbed firmly onto his cheek and pushed it into the suit with the other one following. He then grabbed onto the inner lining and pulled up, wedging the suit deep between Tyler’s cheeks. Causing a yelp to erupt from Tyler as he felt the spandex rub against his hairy asshole.

“Fuck,” Tyler cried as joey quickly zipped the suit up, and slapped him on the butt playfully. Tyler squatted down feeling the suit ride even further up between his cheeks – if that was even possible.

“Fuck indeed,” Joey said standing back to take in the full look of Tyler in his super suit. Tyler stared at his reflection seeing the way his muscles popped beneath the suit, but what really caught his eye was how large… . .

…his ass looked.

“How the hell is this happening?” Tyler asked as he turned to the side seeing both of his cheeks jut out unnaturally from his body. It looked like the suit had built in implants. He knew his ass was impressive before but now it looked obnoxiously large, almost to the point of it being too large. Tyler pressed his hands to the backside of his suit expecting to feel extra cushion inserted into the suit but all he could feel was the soft supple flesh of his ass underneath the thin super suit. “I don’t know if this was really what they were looking for in a new Superman,” Tyler laughed uncomfortably.

“Oh let me make a slight adjustment.” The seamstress pulled a fabric tape measure from a table and looped it around Tyler’s waist, pulling tight around his hips. “Oh yes. I do see what is wrong here. Much too small.” Tyler let out a sigh of relief; happy that the seamstress and he were on the same page.

“These cheeks need to be much larger.”

“Hold on what?” Tyler stammered as he watched his cheeks expand outward, pushing the tape measure further apart. Tyler’s mouth dropped open as he watched his ass expand growing from the large butt cheeks he already had to a real pair of cheeks that embodied the name gluteus Maximus.

“There we go. An extra five inches. What do you think?” The designer asked, stepping back from Tyler as he continued to stare disbelieving at the changes his body underwent. It had to be something with the suit, some sort of balloons or expander. But when Tyler touched his cheeks once more he felt the same soft ass cheek he felt earlier.

“How the fuck did you do that?” Tyler asked as he began to fondle his monstrous butt cheeks, unable to fully grasp what was happening or his butt for that matter. The customer designer shrugged his shoulders, pushing Tyler’s question to the side as he grabbed each of Tyler’s cheeks in his hand. Tyler let out a moan of pleasure as the designer’s fingers dug into his dense thick cheeks. Tyler felt his knees grow weak as the man continued to grope Tyler’s bouncy bubble butt.

Tyler’s moan of pleasure grew louder when the man’s hand grabbed a hold of Tyler’s crotch, feeling his hard cock press against the thin spandex. The man worked his hand up and down the long shaft of his cock while his other hand grabbed something at the top of his ass and pulled. Tyler felt a release of the tightness around his ass and a burst of cool air on his cheeks. Unbeknownst to Tyler, it seemed that the designer had also put a zipper into the super suit. The freedom was appreciative but also caused worry. Why did Tyler need a zipper between his cheeks?

“God. It was already so perfect, and now. Fuck. I gotta take a bite.”

“WHAT?” Tyler exclaimed as he saw the customer designer fall to his knees and roughly pushed his face between Tyler’s exposed cheeks. His eyes flew open as the man’s tongue pushed into his virgin hole. Tyler could feel his cock spurt out a stream of precum into the suit as his entire body filled with, what could only be described as, electricity. Tyler grabbed onto the man’s head and attempted to pull him from his crack but fell forward into the mirror, grabbing onto the sides in order to steady himself.

“Oh god, It feels so good.” Tyler groaned, subconsciously pushing his engorged ass cheeks into the man’s face. This couldn’t be happening, but he couldn’t stop it. He heated breath fogged the mirror as his breathing became ragged. But then the overwhelming sensations stopped. Tyler opened his eyes and looked behind him, partially sad as to why the feeling stopped. But when he turned his head over his shoulder he saw the designer unzipping his pants. Tyler thought he should run, he thought he should push him away, but all he could think about was that pleasurable sensation from earlier.

“Ready to get fucked Tyler?” The designer asked as he pulled his cock from his underwear, spit on the tip, and slapped it against his ass cheek. The two men watched as Tyler’s cheek jiggled, almost begging to be fucked. Tyler swallowed hard and nodded. “Hold on bottom boy,” the designer laughed as he shoved his cock deep between the cheeks, losing several inches before even hitting Tyler’s hole. But when the tip of his cock entered Tyler’s body it was like he was seeing the stars for the first time. His eyes rolled into the back of his head. Tyler squeezed the mirror so tightly that he was fearful that the mirror would shatter.

“Almost there,” the designer groaned as his lap finally pressed against Tyler’s ample ass cheeks. He kept his cock lodged deep within Tyler’s body, allowing his body to accommodate to the intruder. Tyler had never felt anything before and it only got better when the fucking truly began.

The man thrust his dick so many times into Tyler’s asshole that he felt empty the few times that he removed it entirely, missing the feeling of the man’s cock rub against his prostate. Tyler couldn’t believe he had lived so far in life without ever trying something like this before. The sexual encounter crescendoed when their moans of lust intermingled and both of their cocks gave one final pulse of pleasure and erupted.

“Fuck!” “Oh shit!” Tyler’s cock shot within the suit while the customer designer unloaded deep between Tyler’s cheeks. Once the designer’s balls were completely emptied within Tyler’s hole; he withdrew his cock, seeing the cheeks slam shut, sealing the cum within his body.

Knock knock knock

“Tyler you are needed on the set,” a young male voice shouted from the other side of the door. Tyler peeled his sweaty body off the mirror, falling to the floor from his lack of strength and landing on his overly rounded cheeks.

“Give me a few minutes!” Tyler shouted back. He looked down at his body, unsure how he was going to explain this to anyone on set, or how he was ever going to even get the super suit off his body?

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