31 Days Of Derek Hale

31 Days of Derek Hale

Day 16: Himbo

Info │ 01 │ 02 │ 03 │ 04 │ 05 │ 06 │ 07 │ 08 │ 09 │ 10 │ 11 │ 12 │ 13 │ 14 │ 15 │ 16

Derek Hale sat in the corner of the bar, brooding over life in general. The sourwolf had a deep frown set onto his face, scowling at nothing specifically— his foul mood creating a dark aura about him.

He finished his whiskey on the rocks and was about to ask for another one, when the bartender (some peppy guy with dyed blue hair) set down a large glass of beer in front of him. The golden drink must’ve been extra-carbonated because tons of tiny bubbles floated around like crazy in it.

Derek cocked his eyebrow up at the bartender. “I didn’t—”

“It’s on the house,” the bartender interrupted him. “It’s a new brand called ‘Bubbly Beer’.”

“‘Bubbly Beer’?” Derek repeated incredulously, almost scoffing at the stupid sounding name. The tough alpha wouldn’t be caught dead drinking such a ridiculous drink. 

Still, free was free.

Shrugging his shoulders, Derek brought the glass to his lips and took a tentative sip of the bubble-filled beer. It was sickeningly sweet and the carbonation made the drink more akin to soda than actual beer.

Derek grimaced at the drink, nearly gagging. He hated sweets.

However, the alcohol content must’ve been high, because after that singular sip of beer, Derek could already feel a slight buzz. His brain felt a little foggy and it actually seemed to dull his angst.

“Meh,” he hummed. “Does the trick, I guess.”

Derek took another sip.

The fog settled in deeper, and a dazed grin formed on Derek’s face. He leaned back further into his chair, unaware of the knowing smirk from the bartender. He struggled to think back to what was bothering him in the first place.

He happily brought the glass back up to his lips, but this time he took a couple gulps of the beer.

Derek’s smile grew a little larger, but it almost subsided when he started to feel a little warm. Like a sudden total wave of heat crashing upon him, Derek suddenly felt incredibly uncomfortable. His white button down shirt was suddenly a bit too thick for his liking, and having it buttoned up all the way made him feel awkward, almost like he was wearing a large tent. 

In an attempt to gain some sort of ease, Derek reached up and undid the top four buttons of his shirt.

“That’s soooooo much better,” he sighed, his goofy grin coming back full force once he wasn’t completely covered. His toned pecs were slightly exposed to the cool air of the bar.

Derek took a few more gulps of the beer.

The legs of the chair groaned loudly as Derek squirmed around. His chest felt heavier and his arms kept colliding with his sides in a way that they hadn’t before… right?

Derek’s heart raced in his beefy chest for a moment, but he quickly shrugged his anxiety away as he glanced down at his meaty muscletits. His massive pecs were barely covered by the button down shirt that they strained against, his nubby nipples poking teasingly against the fabric. His large biceps bulged out of his straining sleeves, constantly bumping against pecs and lats, hindering each one of Derek’s movements. And lastly, the werewolf rocked back and forth on his humongous bubblebutt that strained his jeans to bursting, the big ass making it look like Derek was sitting on a bunch of cushions.

Derek caught a nerdy guy sneak a peek at him from across the bar, and he couldn’t resist lifting one of his big arms to flex a powerful bicep.

The nerd’s jaw dropped, yet he quickly recomposed himself and stood up, slowly heading over towards Derek.

Derek finished off the last of the bubbly beer, setting the empty glass onto the bar.

“Um, h-hey,” the small nerdy guy smiled at Derek. “What brings you here all alone?”

Derek smiled back full force at the other guy, his cock rocketing to life. The ten inch monster snaked down his pant leg noticeably, looking like he was stuffing a summer sausage down his pants.

“Oh y’know,” Derek chirped back, “I’m just, like, totally out here looking for cute guys!” He giggled at the end of his statement, biting down on his lower lip as he ran his eyes up and down hungrily over the nerd’s body.

The nerd smiled back nervously, nearly drooling over Derek’s bulbous muscletits. “Well,” he said, “I’m about to ditch this place, if you wanna come with?”

“Sure!” Derek quickly said, practically hopping out of his chair. He snatched a tight hold of the smaller guy’s hand and began to walk towards the exit.

Derek paused for a brief second, feeling as if something was wrong. His gait was thrown off by the constant jiggling of his bubblebutt behind him, and he had to arch his back slightly to account for his huge pecs. Plus, his head felt so slow.

And he was so painfully horny! 

Despite himself, all he seemed to be able to focus on was cock and getting his big butt stuffed full with the nerd’s. His lust took over and that foggy sensation clouded over his brain again, effectively silencing that alarm bell. 

“Like, this is totally gonna be the best night ever!” Derek cheered as he wiggled his hips, causing his big butt to bounce wildly, loving the lustful look in the nerd’s eyes.

31 Days of Derek Hale

Day 27: Hot Cop

Info │ 01 │ 02 │ 03 │ 04 │ 05 │ 06 │ 07 │ 08 │ 09 │ 10 │ 11 │ 12 │ 13 │ 14 │ 15 │ 16 │ 17 │ 18 │ 19 │ 20 │ 21 │ 22 │ 23 │ 24 │ 25 │ 26 │ 27

“Well, well, if it isn’t none other than the infamous Derek Hale,” Sheriff Stilinski sighed as he sat down in the driver’s side of the cruiser. 

Derek just glared silently back through the fence-like barrier that separated the two of them. He huffed angrily through his nostrils, keeping his lips pursed to avoid making the situation any worse for him. The young man wasn’t unfamiliar with Sheriff Stilinski, often running afoul with the old man here and there. It wasn’t that Derek was a career criminal by textbook standards, but he admitted that he didn’t make the best choices. Thus, he had a sort of negative reputation around Beacon Hills, with most of the sheriff department keeping a watchful eye on him.

The cruiser’s engine roared alive, and the Sheriff drove down the road towards the station.

Derek silently steamed in the backseat, perfectly content with not saying a single word.

However, the Sheriff cleared his throat and eyed the werewolf in the rearview mirror. “You know, Derek,” the Sheriff said, his rough voice taking on a kind air, “I’d promised your family that I’d look after you. But for some reason, you just can’t seem to keep your nose outta trouble.”

Derek just grunted, rolling his eyes. He tried to tune out the cop and focus on the woods outside the window. 

The Sheriff continued though. “And,” he pressed, a different tone overtaking his deep voice, “I’ve seen you eying my boy.”

Derek winced and fought hard to maintain his cool, but he could tell that he looked worried as his bushy eyebrows knitted together. Of course he found the Sheriff’s son, Stiles, attractive and it was true that he’d been trying to court him; however, he hadn’t counted on the old man being that perceptive.

“What are you talking about?” Derek tried to play it off, his heart starting to race in his chest.

The Sheriff lowly chuckled. “Derek,” he said, clicking his tongue, “I have my own skills, too. And let’s just say that although I like you and your family, I’m not too happy to have someone like you following my son around.”

Being used to being seen as less, Derek snorted and prepared a sharp retort. However, when he opened his mouth, his eyes widened when no sound came out. He cleared his throat and tried again, but not matter how hard he tried, the werewolf couldn’t utter a noise. He felt his heart start to race in his chest as he tried with all of his might to make the slightest bit of noise. However, every single attempt was futile.

The Sheriff smirked back at the struggling werewolf in the rearview mirror. “But you don’t have a job right now, do you Derek?” he pressed, an odd happy quality to his voice.

“No, Sir,” Derek felt himself respond without thinking. He wondered what was going on— why he could only seem to speak when the Sheriff allowed him to, and why he’d called him ‘Sir’.

“That’s a shame,” the Sheriff added. “You were always so cheery and polite. I would’ve figured you’d be the star employee somewhere by now.”

Cheery and polite? Sure, Derek wasn’t a blatant asshole, but neither of those adjectives described him in the least.

“Thank you, Sir,” Derek heard himself reply again. “I always do try my hardest, but gosh darn, the job market is tricky.” The werewolf’s stomach fell as he heard himself speak in such a dweebish tone. He tried to force himself to cuss out the sheriff, but as soon as the words were almost on his tongue, they’d fled.

The Sheriff cleared his throat and went on. “Well, if you’re interested, the police academy is always taking in new recruits. I think you’d be a good fit.”

Derek wanted to decline immediately, hating the idea of seeing himself strutting around Beacon Hills as some police officer who acts all goody two-shoes and whatnot. “That sounds like an awesome idea, Sir,” Derek happily agreed, and he felt his face stretch out into a giddy smile. He spotted his own reflection in the rearview mirror and inwardly flinched at how dorky he looked being all smiles; however, his attention was quickly diverted when he noticed something else.

Derek’s eyes widened even further when he saw that his jeans and white tank top had completely disappeared from his body. As quickly as his old clothes had vanished, new ones reappeared in their stead. Navy blue khakis were tightly wrapped around his powerful legs, looking almost skintight and like there was barely any extra room in there. His torso had on a navy blue, button down shirt that had the patches of the Beacon Hills Sheriff Department sewn onto the short sleeves. Right above the right pocket was a small silver name tag that read out: “HALE”. A black belt appeared around his waist, equipped with all of his police equipment that he’d need for his new job.

Derek’s smile faltered for a brief second before it took over once again. “Thank you, Sir,” he grinned. “I’ve always wanted to be a cop ever since I was a kid.”

The Sheriff nodded. “I know it, Derek,” he hummed. “I can tell by the way you’ve dedicated yourself to fitness.”

Before he could ponder over what that meant, Derek felt all of his muscles tense up simultaneously. The first thing Derek noticed was his thighs steadily growing larger and rounder, closing the gap between them little by little. However, his line of sight was soon cut off by his growing chest muscles. His pecs inflated and pushed outwards, taking up the remaining room in his shirt until it was skintight— POP! The top two buttons of his police shirt popped off, revealing the new, deep pec cleavage he now possessed. His arms grew in size, his biceps inflating to the size of melons as they bulged with power out of his short sleeves. They rested on flaring lats, giving the werewolf a broad appearance that reeked of masculine power. When he looked back into the mirror, Derek saw his neck steadily broaden in tandem with his shoulders, effectively giving him the appearance of a bodybuilder in a police uniform. 

His heart raced in his inflated chest, but instead of voicing his panic, all Derek could say was, “That you, Sir. Last weigh in, I came in at three-hundred pounds of solid muscle— all for the good of protecting my community.”

The station came into sight and the Sheriff’s own smile dominated his older face. “That’s the right attitude to have, Derek,” he said. “I know you’ll be a great man of the law.”

Derek felt his old self starting to slip, quickly being dominated with the muscled Dudley Do-Right cop he’d been turned into. He grit his teeth to prevent the change from taking over, but it was futile. In a matter of seconds, the old trouble-making Derek Hale was quickly replaced with Deputy Hale: the bodybuilding cop who was as straight-laced as they came.

Derek’s smile grew even more, genuinely this time, as he noticed the station as the Sheriff parked in front.

Derek exited the back of the cruiser, unsure why he’d decide to ride in the back— he probably lost a dare and was playing around with Sheriff Stilinski. The older man was like a father to him, and Derek respected him with every fiber of his being. As soon as the new cop took a step out of the cruiser and felt his large thighs rub against each other and noticed how heavy his pecs and arms were, he cocked his eyebrow in confusion for a moment. Maneuvering around felt awkward, almost as if he was getting used to strutting around in such a muscled body.

Derek snorted and shook his head, knowing that was ridiculous. He worked out religiously and was always super muscled, easily dwarfing all of the other men on the force.

The muscled policeman waddled up to the station, but froze when he saw the Sheriff’s son, Stiles, hanging by the entrance. He felt his heart race in his beefy chest and blush form on his face over how cute Stiles looked. 

“Oh, um, h-hi there, Stiles,” Derek gushed, looking like some lovestruck dork in front of the station for all to see. “What brings you here?”

Stiles paused for a moment, his own eyebrows furrowing for a second. “I came to see my dad,” he mumbled, his eyes running up and down Derek’s bulging form, making the cop’s heart race even faster. “Derek, d-did you… um, this might sound weird, but you look different for some reason. I can’t put my finger on it.”

This time, Deputy Derek shared Stiles’s confusion, and for a flash, the way his body felt so heavy and the sensation of his skintight uniform on his muscles felt all too wrong. However, just as quickly as the feeling had occurred, it evaporated into thin air and Derek’s smile widened even more.

“I just got back from the gym,” he happily gushed, raising both of his powerful arms above his head to form a double biceps pose. The movement caused his massive biceps to curl completely out of his sleeves and bulge with power. “It’s probably the pump you’re noticing.”

Stiles blushed a little as he stared at Derek’s huge muscles. “Yeah, I guess that’s it,” he admitted.

Not wanting to waste any time, while still flexing, Derek blurted out, “Want to do something this Saturday?” he asked. “… with me? Please?”

Stiles wanted to argue, to say that something was definitely different about Deputy Hale. However, his memories seemed to recall seeing the muscled up cop working shoulder to shoulder with his father for quite some time. “Sure,” he finally agreed.

Deputy Hale dropped his arms, letting them rest atop his lats a near right angle. “G-great!” he eagerly stuttered, the giddy new deputy over the moon at the prospect of finally taking the Sheriff’s son out. “I’ll pick you up at seven!”

31 Days of Derek Hale

Day 26: Twink

Info │ 01 │ 02 │ 03 │ 04 │ 05 │ 06 │ 07 │ 08 │ 09 │ 10 │ 11 │ 12 │ 13 │ 14 │ 15 │ 16 │ 17 │ 18 │ 19 │ 20 │ 21 │ 22 │ 23 │ 24 │ 25 │ 26

Derek bumped into some small, tiny guy. The little guy wore comically oversized clothes as he ran off, looking panicked and frightened. 

“Fuckin’ weirdo,” Derek snorted, readjusting his gym bag over his broad shoulder. 

The 6’3” alpha sauntered into the gym to workout. Normally, the muscled stud preferred to lift or perform bodyweight exercises at home where he wouldn’t have to deal with a lot of people. However, after renovating his house, he didn’t want to mess it up with his musk, so he’d opted to get a gym membership. After a few weeks of working out at one of the local gyms, Derek was surprised to discover that he actually liked to work out in public. There was something about being one of the bigger guys at the gyms that filled him with a sense of pride. Towering over the other men and easily out-muscling them only cemented his role as an alpha, and Derek could only smirk as he threw his weight around the gym.

After changing in the locker room, Derek strutted out onto the gym floor clad in only tight gym shorts that strained against his powerful thighs. His impressive chest muscles were on full display as he moved towards the weight pile. His chiseled, plump pecs illustrated sheer masculine power, and Derek frowned a bit when he realized that the gym was virtually empty.

“Guess the other guys just can’t keep up,” he hummed to himself, grabbing the heavier weights on the rack and performing bicep curls like it was second nature to him. His bowling ball-sized mounds flexed with power as he lifted, and Derek couldn’t help but admire his bulky form in the large mirror.

Derek was so caught up in working out that he barely noticed when another gym patron walked up to the weight pile, grabbing a weight that was a little heavier than Derek’s.

This other guy rivaled Derek’s size, both in height and musculature, much to the alpha’s annoyance. This other guy’s thick curly hair reached the same exact 6’3” height as did Derek; that fact bothering Derek for some inane reason. Plus, this other guy also worked out shirtless, showing off his pumped up muscles that exuded manly power. His chiseled pecs were just as rounded as Derek’s, and when he lifted his weight, his bicep bulged to the same exact size Derek’s had.

The other guy glanced towards Derek and nodded at the lighter weight in his grasp. “My girlfriend likes to use the smaller weights too,” he chuckled.

Derek bristled at the obvious attempt to make him look weaker than the unknown douchebag. He just clenched his jaw as he set the weight down, opting for an even larger one than the other guy’s. Gritting his teeth, he began to rack out several bicep curls.

The subtle way the other man’s eyes widened caused the alpha to smirk, loving how his bicep pumped up to an incredible size. The arm burned with lactate and he could vaguely make out the other guy muttering something under his breath, yet Derek was too focused on trying to look like the bigger man.

Derek’s muscles burned from his workout, the burning sensation seemingly spreading throughout the rest of his body from his arm. The immense weight in his hand steadily felt heavier by the second, Derek chalking it up to reaching muscle failure. He thought that it was odd that he’d reached it in under a minute since he could usually lift heavy amounts of weight for a substantiated amount of time.

Derek grunted as he attempted to perform one more rep, yet his arm started to shake and he ultimately dropped the weight, letting it clang loudly onto the floor. 

The guy chuckled again, and clapped Derek on the bare shoulder. “Don’t worry, Little Guy,” he teased, “there’s no shame in starting off with the smaller weights. We all gotta start somewhere, right?”

Derek swallowed down a growl and instead tried to glare threateningly at the other guy to get him to leave him alone… but he stopped when he stared directly at the dude’s chin. Earlier, Derek could’ve sworn that they’d stood eye to eye.

Derek’s eyes widened when he witnessed the other guy actually growing. As impossible as it seemed, the other gym goer sprouted up in height, his muscles also packing on some serious size. His pecs plumped out even more and his arms took on some more consider meat. 

“What the fuck?” Derek muttered, freezing when he heard his voice. It was void of any baritone, making his voice sound lighter and almost squeakier, as if it had shot up a few octaves. 

Then the horror slowly dawned on Derek that the other guy wasn’t just growing, but Derek was also shrinking.

Derek watched as his line of sight kept slipping lower and lower, until he was staring directly at the other man’s plump pecs. It didn’t stop there though, as all of Derek’s muscles began to deflate. 

“What the fuck’s happening to my muscles!?” Derek squeaked out in his smaller voice, holding his arms out in horror as his biceps steadily grew flatter.

Derek was helpless to do anything except watch as all of his hard-earned muscles grew flatter and near nonexistent. His arms shrank until they looked like unremarkable sticks, lacking any bulges whatsoever. His pumped up pectorals gradually flattened as they shrank against his chest, looking smaller and smaller until his entire torso was flat— lacking major pecs or even any abs. Even his legs thinned out as quads and calves deflated, growing smaller until Derek had little twigs to stand on.

To add insult to injury, Derek paled as he squirmed and felt an uncomfortable bagginess in the front of his boxers, the front of his shorts looking flat.

When he was finally done shrinking, Derek stared at his skinny body in shock and horror, estimating that he must’ve lost well over fifty pounds of pure muscle, and that he had to have stood at a measly 5’3” now.

“Wh-what did you do to me?” Derek roared, but his lighter voice didn’t hold any sort of threatening quality to it at all. In his frustration, he tried to charge forward and pummel the now larger man, but as he swung his tiny fists at the man’s massive bulk, the other guy didn’t seem phased.

The big gym bully just snickered. “Sorry, Little Man,” he scoffed, gently shoving Derek away, yet the incredible difference in strength sent the tiny alpha stumbling backwards until he fell on his tiny butt with a thud. “There’s only room here for one gym alpha.” 

To illustrate his point, the larger man lifted his powerful arms and flexed his massive biceps which flexed to the size of small melons, easily out sizing Derek’s tiny stick-like arms.

Out of humiliation, Derek took off, sprinting out of the gym in a frenzy, embarrassed at how there was a lack of dangling sensation between his legs. He hurried into his Camaro and nearly wailed as he had to readjust his seat closer to the wheel because his shortened legs couldn’t reach the pedals.

As the tiny man sped off, a large bodybuilder entered the gym, his large muscles oddly already starting to burn the second the stepped foot inside…

31 Days of Derek Hale

Day 20: Jock

Info │ 01 │ 02 │ 03 │ 04 │ 05 │ 06 │ 07 │ 08 │ 09 │ 10 │ 11 │ 12 │ 13 │ 14 │ 15 │ 16 │ 17 │ 18 │ 19 │ 20

Derek sighed as he walked into his bedroom for the night, feeling incredibly drained from his argument with Eli. “I just don’t get it,” he huffed, throwing himself down onto the bed in a huff. “No matter what, we just can’t seem to see eye to eye.”

Stiles frowned and ran a caring hand over his husband’s chest. “He’s a jock,” he said. “All his high speed brain can focus on it sports.”

Derek frowned deeply. “I guess,” he growled. “I just wish that I could understand him better. Like, as if we were on the same wavelength.”

Derek lied back and rested next to Stiles, having trouble sleeping due to his fight with his son. He and Eli had been fighting with one another lately, usually due to typically father-son issues, such as Eli letting his grades slip due to his intense interest in sports, which tended to lead to Derek threatening to pull Eli from whatever team he was on that month. His son was a total jock, something that Derek didn’t really experience while in school.

As Derek drifted off to sleep, he felt his limbs tingle, his mind constantly wishing that he could understand the jock better…

The alarm blared, and Stiles sleepily slapped it silent.

Derek stretched his muscled arms above his head, yawning loudly as he woke up. As he moved, his face scrunched up as the stench of musk and sweat hit his nose, emanating in waves from his hairy pits.

Even Stiles could smell it with his dulled human senses, jerking back and plugging up his nose. “Damn Der,” he gasped, “no offense, but you reek.”

Derek felt his face grow warmer as he blushed. “Yeah, Bro,” he heard himself balk in his deep voice, “I must’ve worked up a big sweat last night.” Derek was puzzled over how deep and slow his voice sounded, and the way he’d called this husband “Bro”.

For a brief moment, Stiles scrunched up his brow in confusion, but it smoothed out rapidly as a small grin formed on his face. “Typical jock,” he lightheartedly laughed, slowly getting out of the bed to get ready for work.

Jock? Derek puzzled over what Stiles had said as he got out of bed, his body automatically lumbering towards the dresser. He yanked open the top drawer and paused as he was greeted with an array of jockstraps— his boxers nowhere to be seen.

As if his body had a mind of its own, Derek felt his muscled arms move and snatch up a jockstrap. He yanked the small garment on, the pouch filled to the limit with his massive cock and balls while his perky ass bubbled out the back.

“Don’t you want to take a shower?” Stiles asked, the tone in his voice indication that he’d hoped that Derek would listen to him. 

“Nope,” Derek heard himself scoff, answering without any thought of his own. He even leaned down and sniffed at one of his stinky pits, the musky stench filling the confines of the bedroom. “I’ll be fine. Besides, I’m gonna get all sweaty at practice anyways. So what’s the point?”

Practice?

Derek was so caught up in his odd behavior that he’d barely noticed when he’d opened up another dresser drawer, grabbing a football jersey. He yanked the tight garnet on, noting how his muscles pressed against it, illustrating his athletic prowess. Next, he grabbed some small workout shorts that only came up to mid-thigh and were so tight that his butt and package pressed noticeably against it, almost as if they were on full display.

When he looked at himself in the mirror, Derek inwardly winced at the dim smile on his face. He still looked the same, with his mature and masculine beard that had flecks of gray in it; however, he felt ridiculous being dressed up like a total jock, feeling childish.

His body evidently wouldn’t let any of his inner turmoil show as he lifted up a buff arm, flexing a large bicep. “Damn,” he heard himself say, “I’m getting fuckin’ huge, Bro!”

Despite himself, as Derek flexed in the mirror, he felt his cock start to stiffen within the confines of his tight jockstrap. The pouch tented outwards as it struggled to maintain his meaty cock, looking as if the werewolf was smuggling a summer sausage in his pants. Instead of blushing or trying to conceal his package, Derek felt himself place this hands on his hips and shove his crotch forward expectantly.

“Hey, Bro,” he said, “I’m so fuckin’ horny. Wanna help me out?”

Stiles smiled at his husband, chuckling as he shifted off the bed. “Damn, Der,” he laughed, “that thing’s always cocked and loaded.”

Always cocked and loaded? Derek’s eyebrows rose as new memories filtered into his foggy head, being filled to the brim with Derek being hard and rutting against whatever crossed his path. The stud was always incredibly horny, his cock seemingly rocketing straight to attention after a few moments after cumming. He wanted to blush at the image of himself sauntering down the street in his tight jerseys, his hard cock pressed tightly against his thick thigh for all to see.

Derek’s frantic thoughts slowed down significantly as his husband dropped to his knees in front of him, wasting no time in taking in his full member.

“Oooh!” Derek loudly bellowed, his deeper sounding voice bouncing off the thin walls in the house. “Yeah, suck that cock, Bro. Bet it’s the biggest ya ever had!” The normally silent werewolf couldn’t keep his mouth shut as he was sucked off, moaning loudly and cockily bragging about his cock. No matter how humiliated the alpha was over his uncontrollable behavior, he couldn’t help but bask in the warmth of pleasure that washed over him. All of his panic was momentarily forgotten until all of his ample muscles tensed up. “Uunghh!”

Derek cried out as he came, shooting what felt like the biggest load of his life. He was left spent and trying to catch his breath as Stiles stood up and went about getting ready for his day at work.

“Thanks, Bro,” Derek heard himself say. “I gotcha next time!” Already, at the mere suggestion of sucking off his husband, Derek’s cock plumped up and it took him a few moments to realize that he’d been absentmindedly fondling his hard bulge after tucking it back into his jockstrap.

As the werewolf continued with his morning routine that didn’t involve a shower, he couldn’t help but wince whenever he lifted his arms and his musky stench would waft out from his pits, smelling as if he’d just finished a killer workout at a crowded gym.

Derek walked downstairs and paused at the front door where Stiles gave him a quick kiss. “Can’t forget this, Coach,” Stiles said, handing Derek a silver whistle attached to a small chain necklace.

Derek was confused over both the whistle and why Stiles had called him “Coach” for some reason. However, the confusion quickly vanished when Derek realized that he no longer worked at his auto shop but was instead a coach at Beacon Hills High School. His stomach dropped when he tried to recall the massive amounts of paperwork that were supposed to be waiting for him on his desk at the shop, all of them detailing receipts and parts on orders; yet, now the werewolf’s muddled brain struggled to comprehend what all of those numbers meant. He paled even further when his knowledge of business management wasn’t the only thing gone. In a panic, Derek’s eyes darted around the house and sure enough, simple items seemed to be way beyond his mental grasp. For example, although he’d used it hundreds of times before whatever the hell happened to him, Derek stared at the coffee maker that was in the kitchen, unsure what all of the buttons meant… luckily Stiles was there to help him out since he was such a dumb jock.

Derek inwardly flinched at that last thought, recalling the stupid wish he’d made last night. He’d wished that he could understand jocks more.

Now Derek was a dumb, horny jock.

His days were filled with nothing except working out, playing sports, and fucking. That’s all a dumb jock like him was good for.

Still, Derek put the whistle around his neck and puffed out his large pecs against his tight spots jersey. “Thanks, bro,” he dimly smiled before leaning forward to rut his hard cock against Stiles’s thigh. “You gonna come during my lunch break to help me out with this?”

“Of course,” Stiles said, resting an admiring hand on Derek’s bicep, which the werewolf flexed out of instinct, “I can’t have my big jock going too long without any release. Poor guy would be all pent up.” He mock frowned, a hint of playful condescension audible.

Derek’s foggy mind didn’t pick up on it, and instead he just smiled back widely. “Yeah, Bro,” he agreed in his deep voice, “if I don’t cum at least five times a day, I can’t think well.” He paused at the odd words leaving his mouth, but then the alarm on his phone went off and he perked up. “Oh shit. I’m gonna be late! Love ya, Bro!” He kissed Stiles on the cheek before hurrying out of the house and lumbering towards his Camaro, his hard cock tenting out his tight shorts.

31 Days of Derek Hale

Day 19: Action Figure

Info │ 01 │ 02 │ 03 │ 04 │ 05 │ 06 │ 07 │ 08 │ 09 │ 10 │ 11 │ 12 │ 13 │ 14 │ 15 │ 16 │ 17 │ 18 │ 19

Derek rubbed his temples in irritation as he wandered through the numerous aisles of the toy store. Aisle after aisle, row after row, brightly colored advertisements and countless useless objects with stupidly high price tags made his headache even worse.

Derek had come to the toy store to find a gift for his boyfriend, Stiles… who he had to point out was a legal adult. Stiles was just a total kid at heart and loved to collect tons of franchise memorabilia, which was something that Derek loved about him. And after falling for the whole “Oh, you don’t have to get me anything” trap last year and having to deal with the fallout, Derek was determined to get Stiles the perfect gift this year.

“Damn it,” Derek growled at the memory of Stiles giving him the silent treatment after his non-gift last year, quickening his pace as he stomped through the aisles in search of something great.

Unfortunately, Derek was having no luck.

“Fuckin’ finally,” he repeated under his breath as he entered an aisle chock full of superhero action figures. 

Derek hurried down the aisle, his eyes scanning the rows of plastic men all over. Each one of them was brightly colored in blaring blues and radiant reds, their over exaggerated muscles looking extremely round and out of the realm of anything humanely possible. Derek’s trademark frown deepened as he searched all over the aisles for the perfect one.

No ordinary superhero would do, especially since Stiles already owned so many. Derek shuddered at the thought of accidentally buying his boyfriend one that he already owned, just to get the side eye and accused of not paying attention.

“Damn it,” the werewolf repeated, annoyed. He frantically began to search the aisle, picking up toy after toy and holding it close to his face studiously. Sure, they were all painted colors and had a variety of “[Insert Random Item]-Man” across the box in bright, blocky letters. However, Derek couldn’t seem to remember which ones Stiles already owned.

In his panic, the werewolf grabbed a white box that contained a blank action figure in it: no facial features or costume painted on at all.

The second his fingers grazed the mysterious box, Derek winced at the odd spark that traveled throughout his body, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up. 

“What the hell was that?” he muttered as he brought his hand up to his face to examine his still tingling fingers.

Derek’s eyes widened as he witnessed his fingers taking on a shiny quality. He scrunched up his face in confusion as his fingers gleamed more underneath the bright fluorescents of the toy store. His heart raced in his chest as they stiffened, becoming immovable as his hand apparently turned into plastic.

“Wh-what?!” Derek panicked as the strange transformation traveled down his arms. Weirder was that the werewolf swore that his muscles plumped up, becoming larger and much more exaggerated before they hardened into the same plastic quality as his hands. His signature black leather jacket vacuumed to his torso as his pecs widened and pushed outwards, becoming skintight. It then started to brighten as it went from slate black to royal blue. His jeans underwent the same changes, suctioning to his buffer legs as they brightened into a cartoonish blue that looked more apt on a superhero, not a regular guy wandering around the mall. Derek winced as his bulge seemingly shrank as it was pressed tightly against him. Derek painstakingly move an almost inflexible arm and patted at his groin, groaning as it felt flat and unremarkable like a Ken doll.

The tingling sensation spread up to Derek’s head, and the altered stud couldn’t help but try to reach up with his plastic limbs. His hair had hardened into a large plastic mold, becoming a lump of black plastic in the shape of his usual hair style. His face felt smooth and unblemished, and he couldn’t help but press both of his hands on either side of his head and give it a little squeeze.  Derek couldn’t hold back his gasp as his head squished and then popped back into shape, illustrating that it made completely out of rubber now.

The werewolf tried to run off, to seek help, but he was stopped by his massively hindered movement. Like most action figures, his limbs were stiff and rigid, their over muscled selves only posable at the main joints.

“Well, well,” hummed an irritatingly familiar voice, “that’s a nice look there, Derek.”

Derek struggled to turn around, his virtually immobile body and larger muscles making movement extremely tedious. He fought back a growl when he saw none other than Theo, the bratty chimera who didn’t hide his crush on Stiles.

The mischievous smirk on Theo’s annoying face was enough to clue Derek into the fact that he was somehow behind whatever was happening to him.

“What did you do to me?” Derek demanded, trying to threateningly stalk forward, but his posable joints made his movements awkward.

Theo shrugged his shoulders. “I was lookin’ for a birthday gift for Stiles,” he snorted, “and I know that he likes action figures, and for some reason he also likes you, so…” He gestured forward at Derek’s new plastic body. “And you’re just about done.” 

Theo snapped his fingers.

Derek felt as if his sense of gravity was thrown as he wobbled on his stiff legs. The shelves in the aisle seemed to grow taller and much larger. However, it quickly dawned on Derek that the store wasn’t growing— he was shrinking.

The werewolf was helpless to do anything besides get smaller and smaller, as his movements became harder and harder to create. Derek’s scowl softened and instead he held a stoic expression as his face hardened. Eventually, the former alpha werewolf had been turned into  ten inch tall super hero action figure, complete with big muscles.

“Perfect!” Theo laughed as he easily picked up the toy Derek, snatching the blank box in his free hand.

Derek inwardly screamed, but was helpless as Theo positioned his plastic arms in a manner that looked like he had his hands on his hips in a heroic pose. He was shoved into the box, and from his frozen position, Derek could barely make out the outside of his prison chasing colors to become bright and alluring. Unbeknownst to him, the outside of the box now read: Superwolf: the World’s Most Muscular and Cranky Superhero!

“Stiles is gonna love my gift,” Theo laughed as he walked action figure Derek over to the cashier.

The whole time Derek screamed at being turned into a toy, and he just hoped that Stiles would figure out a way to help him out… and another part of him hoped that Stiles would like his large superhero muscles.

31 Days of Derek Hale

Day 31: Tyler Hoechlin to Derek Hale TF

Info │ 01 │ 02 │ 03 │ 04 │ 05 │ 06 │ 07 │ 08 │ 09 │ 10 │ 11 │ 12 │ 13 │ 14 │ 15 │ 16 │ 17 │ 18 │ 19 │ 20 │ 21 │ 22 │ 23 │ 24 │ 25 │ 26 │ 27 │ 28 │ 29 │ 30 │ 31 🎃

Happy Halloween everyone! I hope you all enjoyed this Derek Hale Tf Marathon! It was so much fun to make, and I hope that you all liked what I put out!

-- -- --

Actor Tyler Hoechlin filtered through some emails to waste time before he had to get ready. The actor was supposed to make an appearance at some celebrity Halloween party for photo ops. He wasn’t above taking a picture here and there, but he hadn’t even began to think about a costume, nor had his assistant just grabbed one for him.

“I could just wear a bedsheet and go as a ghost?” Tyler chuckled to himself, thinking that it’d be so lame that it’d be good.

He deleted several emails from casting agents who thought that he’d be great in one of their low-budget horror movies that was supposed to go straight to steaming services. Tyler couldn’t help but grimace at doing anything horror related.

After spending so many years being cast as Derek Hale on Teen Wolf, the last thing he wanted to do was something spooky-ish, lest he risk being typecasted. Already, the actor played Superman on Superman & Lois, but he still had several people on the street referring to him as “Derek”. Of course, Tyler was grateful that so many fans appreciated his work on the MTV series, but there was a part of him that was ready to let the role go.

Which was why he’d frowned deeply at the email from Jeff Davis, the creator of Teen Wolf. Tyler begrudgingly clicked on it, scanning it a little until he got to the reason for the reaching out:

“…MTV is interested in rebooting the Teen Wolf series, and after the negative reception of the movie, the producers have decided not to count it as canon. Can we count on you to return as Beacon Hills’s resident Alpha, Derek Hale?”

Not even bothering to respond to it, Tyler moved the mouse towards the garbage icon to delete it. Before he could click it, his laptop screen flickered and an odd electric shock sparked out, actually shocking Tyler.

The actor recoiled his hand at the sensation, the electric shock sending a tingling feeling throughout the rest of his body for a brief moment.

“What the hell?” Tyler wondered aloud. He closed his laptop and shoved himself away from his desk, making a mental note to buy a new laptop tomorrow since his was obvious short-circuiting. 

He glanced at the clock on the wall and sighed, seeing that he was supposed to start getting ready for the party. Tyler rubbed his temples and walked towards the bathroom so that he could start getting ready. 

As he undressed, the actor could feel a little apprehension starting to seep into his bones about attending the party. The normally social Tyler Hoechlin, for some unknown reason, began to frown at the thought of being at a stuffy Halloween party that was going to be packed with people, wall to wall. The thought of being trapped in a room, shoulder to shoulder, with other people made Tyler shudder, and he began to think of reasons to bail. He thought that it was odd, but he chalked it up to his social battery just being abnormally low that night.

Still, Tyler told himself that he couldn’t just be a no-show. He’d promised his friend and previous costar, Dylan O’Brien, that he’d show up and the two could catch up over a drink.

Tyler could’ve sworn that his heart started to race in his chest for some reason, his limbs tingling with excitement. “What’s going on?” he mumbled to himself, confused as to why he seemed to be so giddy to see Dylan. “It’s just Stiles. I saw him last week…”

He coughed and cleared his throat, having no clue why he’d accidentally referred to Dylan as his old character, Stiles. Tyler shook it off and hopped into the shower. As he bathed, Tyler couldn’t seem to get Dylan out of his head.

“What is going on with me?” he asked himself, wondering why he couldn’t get the man’s dimples out of his mind. What was even weirder to the man was that his cock started to plump up, sticking straight out in front of him.

Tyler had never had a gay thought in his life, and despite seeing all of the Sterek fan art online, he’d never entertained the thought of him and Dylan together. Yet, for some unknown reason, the more he pictured his toned, mole-spotted body, his cock throbbed even harder.

“Fuck it,” Tyler grunted as he wrapped his fingers around his cock, pumping away.

Tyler was so lost in the pleasure that rippled throughout his body as he jerked off, bellowing out low moans the entire time. His free hand ran over his muscled chest, his fingers running through the thick pelt of chest hair—

“Wh-what?” Tyler grunted as he looked down, still playing with his throbbing cock as he stared down at his previously smooth chest. Despite having just shaved his pecs earlier that morning for some pictures as the smooth-chested Superman, Tyler’s chest was now covered in thick, black chest hair. The hairs covered his meaty pecs and ran down his stomach, connecting to his bush by a noticeable happy trail. “What the hell’s goin’ on?”

Tyler’s confusion was briefly forgotten when all of his large muscles tensed up, and his cock erupted with a spray of cum, shooting a large load against the linoleum of his shower. 

The stud was left panting, leaning against the other wall of the shower as he tried to catch his breath. Tyler ran a shaky hand through his wet hair, trying to piece together the fact that not only was his chest hairy, but he’d also just jerked off to another guy— one of his past costars at that.

“I guess Stiles is kinda cute,” he begrudgingly muttered, flinching for a second. “Um, I mean Dylan.”

Tyler finished up his shower and dried himself off in a daze, struggling to wrap his head around what was going on. He knew that something was up, but whenever he tried to concentrate on it, a new growing part of his brain told him not to worry about it. Even as he dried off his hairy chest, his panic that he knew should’ve been there was barely audible.

The actor was puzzling over it as he lumbered back to his bedroom to get dressed. He opted to grab a nice designer suit of out his closet, one that was supposed to make him look like 007. Yet, when Tyler pulled on the white button shirt, he huffed in irritation over how tight it felt.

“Damn it,” he grunted, unable to close the top four buttons of the shirt over his broad chest muscles. He tried his best to suck in his stomach in order to make himself smaller, but his fuzzy pecs were too large to fit into the tiny shirt. His wide back muscles were far too wide, and his biceps threatened to tear the expensive fabric to shreds. Tyler could’ve sworn that the shirt had fit him perfectly at the store, yet now it was at least two sizes too small for him.

With an annoyed huff, Tyler tossed the shirt to the floor and stomped over to his wardrobe to find something that would fit over his muscles. As he stared at the expensive clothes in his closet, Tyler couldn’t help but feel a large bubble of animosity start to form in his gut. The thought of parading around in such garish and over-priced threads was almost repulsive to him.

Without a second thought, Tyler hurried over to his dresser and yanked on a tight, gray tank top that barely fit over his large muscles. He pulled on some worn blue jeans that hugged his butt nicely. As the finishing piece, Tyler snatched a black leather jacket out of his closet and shrugged it on, feeling much more at home in it than he would some brand name suit.

Tyler paused to look at himself in the mirror before exiting his house, noting that he looked like he was wearing his usual outfit that his character Derek Hale wore on the set of Teen Wolf. He snickered and rolled his eyes, but then gasped.

“What the hell…?” his voice trailed off when he leaned in closer to the mirror, his eyes honing in on his teeth. As impossible as it seemed, Tyler could’ve sworn that his canines were bigger. They stood out much more prominently than the rest of his teeth, looking like the actor was wearing caps over them, trying to make them look larger and sharper. “I, uh, I guess these are supposed to be the sharper teeth… Shit!”

Tyler jerked back in surprise at the way his smooth, freshly shaven chin was now covered in a trimmed beard. The way his sideburns connected to it indicated that Tyler must’ve been growing out his facial hair over the course of a few days, maybe even weeks. However, he knew for a fact that he’d shaved his face not even an hour ago, letting him know that something was indeed wrong.

In disbelief, the hairier hunk grabbed at the hairs covering his chin, shocked that they were real and attached to him.

His heart began to race in his beefy chest, but he was quickly distracted when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Despite himself, Tyler snatched it out and glanced at the screen, his stomach doing flips when he read that it was a text from Stiles/Dylan.

Hey! I’m at the party! You’re coming, right? it read.

Tyler couldn’t ignore the giddy excitement that rippled through him, and he caught himself smiling like a goofball, his larger canines poking out of his mouth.

On my way, he responded, grabbing his keys and leaving his house. 

Tyler rushed over to his garage and opened the door, not even thinking twice before hopping into his black Camaro instead of his Tesla before he sped down the street towards the party, eager to see Stiles— or Dylan.

He floored the gas pedal as he rushed to the party, irritated when he hit a red light. Tyler groaned impatiently and rested his head against the headrest in irritation. His eyes glanced towards the rearview mirror, and Tyler gasped at what he saw.

He almost tore the rearview mirror off of its fixture as he leaned closer, seeing that his brow appeared much more prominent than it should’ve. That, and his eyebrows were missing for some reason. His ears had elongated, ending in points that protruded far off his head.

Tyler ran a disbelieving hand over his facial features, feeling ridiculous. He had just enough awareness to recall looking in the mirror on the set of Teen Wolf, seeing the same exact look whenever he was made up into Derek Hale’s beta form. Yet, he could feel the nerve endings whenever he touched his new canine ears, paling at what that indicated—

HONK! 

The car behind him blared its horn as the light turned green, snapping Tyler out of his panic.

Tyler just bared his teeth in the mirror and continued on his way. All of the cars on the road, the bright lights of the city, and the too poppy songs on the radio all seemed to get under the stud’s skin, and a firm scowl planted itself onto his handsome face.

It wasn’t long until Tyler pulled up in front of a large convention center that had a valet service up front. He stopped and got out of his Camaro, unable to hold back the intimidating snarl when he tossed the valet his keys.

“There better not be a scratch on it when I get back,” he muttered, noting the deeper quality to his voice. He cleared his throat as he walked up towards the entrance where a large bouncer stood, clipboard in hand.

“Name?” the bouncer asked.

“Derek Hale,” Tyler answered automatically, flinching and clearing his throat again. “Sorry about that, my name’s Der— er, Tyler Hoechlin.” He didn’t know why saying his name seemed like some Herculean feat, the actor having to clench his fists in order to get it out of his mouth.

The bouncer simply looked down at the list on the clipboard before nodding and ushering Tyler inside.

Tyler rubbed at his temples as he tried to piece together what was happening. However, the second he stepped foot inside, all of his senses appeared to have heightened as they were all assaulted at once. 

Tyler winced at the onslaught of stimuli: the lights in the room were far too bright and he had to nearly squint in order to adjust his sight; the music was blaring out of the speakers, blasting at a near deafening volume; and the stench of overpriced alcohol singed his nostrils, making him grimace. The stud was ready to about face until a familiar scent wafted by.

It took a few seconds for Tyler to realize that he’d been sniffing at the air like a search dog, blushing once he’d been made aware of the other celebrities eying him confusedly. Still, the familiar smell of curly fries alerted him to someone else’s presence, and he found himself barreling through the crowd towards the source.

Tyler’s gaze honed in on Stiles, the cute guy standing over by one of the tables. He was dressed in a suit that had a red coat that made Tyler’s heart flutter in his chest. Immediately, he felt his scowl starting to loosen up the slightest bit, and the more he approached, the quicker Tyler noticed the other guy talking to Stiles.

“Grrr…” Tyler growled out of instinct. As soon as the animalistic sound left his lips, the shocked stud slapped a hand over his mouth. He had no idea why he’d literally just growled like a dog, but once he looked back over at Stiles and the other man talking, he couldn’t prevent the sound from uttering from his lips once more, his large chest vibrating from the noise.

Stiles picked up on the noise and looked over in his direction, smiling and waving him over. “Hey!” he called.

Tyler ceased growling and couldn’t prevent the wide smile from growing on his face as he hurried over to his boyfriend— or past costar. As Tyler was trying to figure out why he was so eager to see the other guy, he wasn’t even aware of the fact that he wrapped a possessive arm around Stiles’s waist, pulling the smaller guy closer into him.

Stiles turned to the other man. “Jeff, you remember Derek, right?” he asked before furrowing his brow in confusion.

The other guy just looked over at Tyler and nodded. “I sure do,” he grinned, holding out his hand for Derek to shake. 

At first, the werewolf just sneered at the other man’s hand, jealousy still coursing through his veins. However, after a slight nudge from Stiles, Derek begrudgingly took it and squeezed it tightly, enjoying the slight wincing from the other man. “Nice to meet you,” he grunted.

Jeff didn’t look too fazed. “As I was telling Dylan, er, Stiles over here,” he said, “I was hoping to hear more about your stories in Beacon Hills. I’m with a large production company that would love to—”

“Not interested,” Derek interrupted, having absolutely zero desire to have his pack’s business advertised in any manner. He was as anti-social as they came, and the idea of talking to some big shot production guy made his headache grow.

Jeff frowned. “…yeah, I guess I did write him like this…”

Derek ignored that, and instead held on tightly to Stiles as he led him out of the crowd of people and towards the exit. They left the convention center and handed the valet the ticket.

“Der,” Stiles piped up, looking just as confused as he was, “um, how the hell did we get in LA?”

Derek’s brow furrowed too as he scratched at the back of his head. He felt like something was wrong, hearing some quiet voice in the back of his head that said that he wasn’t an alpha werewolf. For a brief second, his hairy muscles felt far too big and he wondered why he was so turned on by another man. However, the voice was immediately silenced when Stiles interlocked his fingers with his.

“No fuckin’ clue,” Derek finally said, shaking his head as he took the keys back from the valet. He and Stiles got into the Camaro, and Derek sped down the street back towards Beacon Hills. 

The alpha werewolf rested his arm around the headrest of Stiles’s seat, the motion making his large biceps stretch his leather jacket slightly. Stiles leaned in closer to him, resting his head on his broad shoulder. Derek couldn’t help but puff out his hairy chest with pride, his inner wolf howling with content.

Derek Hale smiled widely, absolutely loving his life.