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Love this so much!

Wrestler! Derek because I’ve had to get the images out of my head. His coach has him on that really good bulking diet- all shakes and burgers all the time.

Yay! There's more. I think my favorite is the lower right!

Some Derek AU pics

The fat pirate finishing off barrels of rum and belching loud enough the seas bubble up.

Rich!spoiled Derek who spends all day at the golf course and the private lunch club… and keeps getting bitched out by caddy Stiles who warns him those golf carts aren’t made for quite a wide load.

Coach Derek who doesn’t follow his own diet advice…..

I love some of the pics you’ve made of big muscled cops. Do you think you could turn me into a totally massive one?

"Damn it," your police chief huffed as you waddled into his office. "That's the fourth uniform this week that you've hulked out of!"

"Sorry, Chief," you blushed, looking down at yourself.

You're the biggest cop on the force, towering over every other guy you work with. That, and you easily outsize them by at least one hundred pounds of rock hard muscle. You're a wall of muscle, looking like you should be a superheavyweight competitive bodybuilder as opposed to a police officer. Your bowling ball sized biceps constantly bulge out of your short sleeves, and your rotund pecs tore through your tight uniform shirts with ease. Even your uniform pants looked they were painted on, your massive thick quads looking incredibly large as they strained against your uniform. The sheer size of your legs reduced your strut to a cumbersome waddle, and your nearly inflexible arms forced your limbs outward at an awkward angle.

Unfortunately, your super-sized musculature sometimes led to your suspects escaping, easily outrunning the muscled up bodybuilder cop who waddled around the city blocks.

Your face flushed red, your massive pecs out in the open in front of your boss since your shirt had burst to shreds... again. You'd tried to flirt with a cute guy who'd been trying to sweet talk himself out of a ticket (it worked), and you'd playfully flexed your enormous muscletits-- RIIIPPP! Your muscletits had completely ruined your shirt for the umpteenth time since you'd gotten hired.

"Sorry, Chief," you apologized to your older boss. "I keep buying the largest size they have, but none of them seem to fit."

Your boss hummed, deep in thought, before perking up. "Okay, I think I have an idea," he finally said, a smile audible in his voice.

-- -- --

You signaled at the waiting taxi, giving the driver the okay to proceed down the street. As he passed by, his jaw hung low as he eyed your massive muscles up and down.

You couldn't help but smirk as you held up an arm to stop the other lane of traffic, your enormous bicep flexing with power as you moved.

Your chief had decided to move you to traffic duty, placing you in the middle of the intersections whenever some of the traffic lights went out. You didn't mind at all; in fact, you loved it! You got to show off your massive muscles for the whole city to see.

Speaking of, your chief finally helped you with your uniform problem.

Now, instead of having to cover your big muscles in some confining shirt and pants combo, your newly approved police uniform is a pair of blue speedos. You can affix your belt to it, and just put your hat on-- and that was it!

While on duty, your bodybuilder physique was constantly on display. Your plump pecs protruded far out in front of you, your nubby nipples constantly hard from the cool breeze passing over them. Your arms could flex with power without the worry of ruining another shirt. Your bubblebutt shifted in your tight speedos, the back of your uniform riding up between the huge cheeks and sometimes looking more like a thong. The sheer size of your enormous quads forced your bulge out and in front, your large cock and balls barely contained in the small pouch.

A grin on your face, you threw both of your massive arms above your head and flexed, showing the city just how huge the biggest cop on the force is.

Lovin' It

Under the soft hum of his local McDonald’s fluorescent lights, Thomas found himself enveloped in the solitude of his closing duties. The 18-year-old’s body bore the signs of fatigue, with slouched shoulders and tired eyes, a testament to his disdain for the job he felt trapped in. Back in high school, he had dreams of going to college and studying engineering, and even though he had the grades to get into a top school, financial constraints left him with no choice but to enter the workforce straight away. No one else would hire him straight out of school with no experience, so he applied to McDonald's, where he started working full-time.

Thomas was a tall and lanky young man, with unkempt brown hair and a perpetual frown etched on his face. He disliked his job intensely, feeling it was beneath him and a constant reminder of the opportunities he had missed out on due to financial stress. The smell of fries and grease had become nauseating, and the endless drone of customer orders through the headset made his head throb every day that he returned home, only for the cycle to continue the next morning.

The rain outside played a sorrowful melody, as he methodically scrubbed the grills, making them gleam and sparkle with cleanliness, wiped down the sticky countertops, counted the till with utmost precision, as a single missing dollar would be a write-up, mopped the lobby floors until they reflected the overhead lights, and cleaned the restrooms until they were spotless. He moved with a mechanical precision born from routine, albeit begrudgingly.

His final task before he had the pleasure of clocking out for the day and heading home for a dinner of a frozen pizza led him to the storage area, where the sight of a crumpled clown costume on the floor caught his attention.

It hadn't been there when he had been working earlier, so he wasn't sure what to think. Maybe it was a new promotional gimmick for the upcoming sales period and had just fallen out of one of the many boxes that get carried through the back on a regular basis. Reaching down to pick it up and fold it onto one of the shelves, Thomas' finger grazed the soft fabric. As he touched the strange outfit, he was engulfed by a warm and pleasurable sensation as his consciousness faded away.

As Thomas lay on the dirty stockroom floor, he began to undergo a transformation. His feet began to swell and grow, the bones stretching and reshaping to accommodate the oversized proportions of a clown’s shoes. The sensation was oddly satisfying, like a stretch after a long rest, leaving a tingling pleasure in its wake.

His skin was the next to change, the tan of his complexion fading into a luminescent white. It spread up his legs and over his torso in a wave of warmth, each inch of skin it touched tingling with the pleasure of transformation. His brown hair, untamed and messy, shifted into a brilliant red, growing longer and silkier, adding to the overall euphoria.

Thomas' facial features subtly shifted and molded into a new form. His nose rounded out and took on a bright red hue, his mouth stretched into a wide, perpetual smile, painted with vibrant red, and his eyes seemed to sparkle with newfound joy. The transformation was thorough, leaving no part of him untouched.

As the last remnants of unconsciousness faded and he awoke from his euphoric stupor, Thomas felt an odd sensation around his feet. Lying on his back on the cold floor, he lifted his head slightly, only to catch sight of two enormous, brightly colored shoes protruding from the ends of his legs. He blinked, trying to understand the surreal sight before him.

The shoes were massive, a vivid mix of red and yellow, the classic Ronald McDonald design. Panic raced through Thomas' mind, a series of frantic questions pounding in his head. Why were his feet so huge? What had happened to him?

Still in disbelief, Thomas slowly wiggled his toes, expecting to feel a spacious void within the oversized shoes. But to his astonishment, he felt resistance. The shoes weren't merely on his feet; his feet filled them perfectly, contouring and shifting with every subtle movement of his toes. The sensation was strange yet oddly comforting. The shoes felt like they were made just for him.

His heart raced as he tried to piece together the bizarre puzzle. Pushing himself up to a sitting position, Thomas took a more detailed look at his transformed body. His once tan skin was now a striking shade of porcelain white, and as he lifted a hand to touch his face, he felt the unmistakable texture of clown makeup.

Realization slowly dawned on him. He wasn't just wearing a clown costume; he had become the clown. The memories, the emotions, the very essence of Ronald McDonald began to flood his mind, merging seamlessly with Thomas' own memories and experiences.

He ran out of the store, and into the night, laughter bubbling from his lips as he embraced his new identity. He was no longer bound by the confines of his old life; he was no longer Thomas. He was Ronald McDonald, and he was free to be happy, to spread joy, and to live life as the happiest clown on earth.

He was lovin' it.