Clown TF - Tumblr Posts
“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
31 Days of Derek Hale
Day 13: Clown
Info │ 01 │ 02 │ 03 │ 04 │ 05 │ 06 │ 07 │ 08 │ 09 │ 10 │ 11 │ 12 │ 13
Derek practically whimpered like a wolf pup as he watched his husband, Stiles, slowly slump to the couch. The usually vibrant and cheerful human had been going through some hardships at work, and it’d really affected his mood; thus, the normally smiley and singsongy Stiles was all gray and sulky. The alpha werewolf frowned as he saw Stiles’s thin shoulders rise and fall with a sigh.
On a normal day, Derek was the grumpy one, mad at the world and scowling at every living creature that dared to cross his path; and Stiles would be his anchor, calming him down with a simple kiss on the cheek or by placing a warm hand on his broad shoulder. Now that the roles were evidently reversed, Derek was struggling to find out the right things to do/say, empathy never really being one of his strong suits.
“Babe?” Derek asked as he walked over to the couch and placed a hand on his husband’s shoulder as he would’ve done had the roles been swapped. “Um… have you tried not thinking about it?”
Stiles’s frown deepened and he rubbed at his temples, making Derek feel guilty.
Derek flinched and quickly tried to make things better. “Got a headache?” he asked, already dashing to the bathroom. “I’ll grab you some Ibuprofen!”
As Derek leaned over the sink, images of his sad husband kept replaying in his mind, making him grimace. He felt guilty for not being able to cheer up Stiles like he would do for him whenever he was moody. He couldn’t help but feel a little helpless and, what was worse, was that whenever he felt like this, it was usually Stiles who convinced him of otherwise with a little corny joke.
Derek loved his husband with all of his heart, and it pained him to see Stiles sad. He missed his smile, he missed his laugh.
“Damn it,” Derek cursed under his breath, “I wish I could cheer him up.”
The second the words left his mouth, Derek felt a shudder ripple through him. The sensation morphed into an odd tingling that consumed his whole body before fading, but not before being reduced to a tickle that actually made Derek laugh.
“Hyuck! Hyuck!” Derek guffawed, his normal throaty chuckle sounding more like a cartoonish wail that was comically deep. The werewolf jerked back and cleared his throat, wondering why he’d just laughed like that.
He shook it away and opened up the mirror cabinet to grab some Ibuprofen for Stiles, gasping when he saw his reflection after closing it.
His normally jet-black hair was green! Derek dropped the small pills in shock as he ran a shaky hand through his green hair, his eyes wide at the vibrant color that would without a doubt, draw a lot of attention his way.
“What’s, *giggle, wrong with my hair— Hyuck! Hyuck!” Derek laughed again. This time, he finally realized that he’d been smiling the entire time. Although he was confused and slightly panicked over what was happening to him, his face looked alight with zeal. His pearly whites were on full display, which brought about something new to him. Derek had always had larger front teeth, Stiles sometimes referring to them as Bunny Teeth, but his eyes widened when he saw them grow in size until they protruded over his bottom lip, effectively giving him over-exaggerated buck teeth.
Derek barely had time to react to his large teeth before he witnessed his nose shudder. Its skin reddened drastically until it looked cherry red, even taking on a shimmery sheen. It then steadily inflated, rounding out until Derek had a red clown nose affixed to his face.
“I look ridiculous!” Derek giggled, still grinning widely despite his inner panic.
The altered werewolf’s first thought was to rush to Stiles, knowing that his husband would figure out what was happening to him. Derek quickly hurried out of the bathroom, stumbling over his feet as he moved. Derek’s eyes widened even further when he witnessed his feet elongating past their usual size thirteen, growing comically huge with large stumpy toes capping them.
With each step he took, Derek’s new feet slapped loudly against the hardwood floors and he struggled to maintain his balance. His gait resembled someone more clumsy, struggling to walk a straight line. He kept bouncing against the walls, knocking over pictures and causing a ruckus as he moved.
With a loud giggle, Derek waddled into the living room where Stiles moped. His husband took one look at him and scrunched up his eyebrows in confusion.
“Der?” he asked. “What are you doing?”
Instead of asking for help, Derek heard himself laugh, “Hyuck! Hyuck! I heard that there’s someone who’s a little down!” He cringed at how he was acting, this cheery clown attitude a direct contrast with his usual self.
Stiles just stared blankly ahead. “Huh?”
“Want a balloon?” Derek happily asked. “I got a real big one for you!”
With large, flailing motions, Derek searched all around his clothes. His busy show wouldn’t allow him to display his shock over the bright neon colors that his black clothes had been magically dyed to. Derek felt as if he were a passenger in his own body, hearing himself speak and feeling himself move, but he didn’t have any control. He was helpless as he behaved like some sugary sweet clown, unable to stop smiling and giggling the entire time.
When Derek couldn’t find a balloon, he frowned before perking up with an a-ha motion. Pursing his lips and whistling through his large buck teeth, he unzipped his now bright yellow pants and let them fall to the ground.
He exaggeratedly gasped as he looked down at his soft cock, grabbing at his green hair. “Oh no!” he chirped. “You don’t want that small balloon!”
He winced at calling himself small, but then flinched when he saw the corner of Stiles’s mouth slowly pull upward. Seeing Stiles doing so sent a fluttering feeling through Derek’s chest, and he started to feel a little excited, his panic steadily fading.
Derek felt himself stick his thumb in his mouth and take in a deep breath, puffing out his chest. He then puffed out his cheeks and acting like he was blowing air into himself, pausing every so often to take a deep breath.
Stiles let out a little chuckle.
Derek felt himself perk up, his cock instantly rocketing to attention. It swelled up and stood out in front of him. Derek dropped his thumb from his mouth and gestured towards his hard cock.
“Ta-da!” he cheered, puffing his chest back out and setting his hands onto his hips proudly as he pushed his hips forward so that his rock hard member was closer to his husband.
Finally, Stiles’s face broke out into a loud smile and he started to laugh.
At seeing his husband finally laughing and being able to see his beautiful smile again, Derek’s cock throbbed and began to leak precum. His own smile was back in full force.
“Oh, thank you, Der,” Stiles cooed as he sat up and gave his husband a big hug. “You always know how to cheer me up.”
“Hyuck! Hyuck!” Derek guffawed, his face blushing wildly as Stiles kissed his cheek lovingly. Seeing the love of his life smiling again, Derek figured that as long as it made his husband happy, he was fine with being a werewolf clown.
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.
