Work Header


Work Text:

Derek wakes up woozy, his head pounding on one side as if someone had taken a hammer to it and now it boomed with each breath. He also felt lopsided like some weights had been attached to him and he found it difficult as his skin shifted in ways he was not used to. He opens his eyes and find them almost crusted over. It is only when he tries to bring his hands to his eyes to rub them that he realizes that his hands had been ties to each other with rope. The realization manages to wake him up must faster.

With more awareness Derek sees that he is lying inside a cage, like how they show in burlesque shows, birdcages but human sized. His hands are tied together in the back and feeling how they burn in a slow blaze, Derek assumes that the ropes had been immersed in wolfsbane. He looks down to take stock of himself when he suddenly sees something that totally astounds him. Derek has two very round and completely formed mounds on his chest and he is naked. Derek looks on in half horror and half wonder and shakes his torso. The boobs jiggle.

Suddenly struck with another thought, Derek tries to see and touch to check if he still has his cock. Be bends to the side so that he can touch and affirm for himself that yes, he has a pussy now. And there is no sign of his cock. There is a lump in his throat. To have his identity changed so drastically within hours perhaps made him feel nauseated. He was gasping in outrage and fear when someone stepped near his cage smiling prettily, in a simple jeans and shirt and holding a jar in their hand.

“Hey there, slut, looking for this?” the man, no, woman?, person said, waving the jar in the air that seemed to be filled with water and a lone jerkin.

Derek looks on, a panic spreading under his skin like wildfire. He doesn’t know where he is, he has been transformed into a girl overnight, wolfsbane infused rope are holding him captive and there is an individual before him that is taunting with a glee that is too personal. “Who are you?” Derek asks and is horrified to find that his voice sounds much shriller, like a girl, like his body, and he looks down in shock only to glance upon his boobs that make him feel more unstable as he stands.

“Me? I, well, you can call me the friend of an enemy of yours. Also, you didn’t answer me, do you miss this?” the person asks.

“I don’t know what that is,” Derek says in a faint voice, the sound of his own voice sounding so wrong that he wants to cover his ears rather than hear himself talk in a voice that is not is.

“This is your cock, you filthy little cumdump. Such a slut like you, what need you a cock when you will just enjoy having a hole more to get fucked in, to suck some more cum into your cum hungry body,” the person says, with a looks of pure evil on their face. There is no discernible reason as to why Derek can’t decide if the person before him is a man or a woman or some other amalgamation, all he knows is that the person talking to him is somewhat wrong, like the creepy kind of aliens.

Maybe that is it, Derek thinks a bit hysterically, maybe he just got abducted by a spaceship and they are experimenting.

“As tantalizing a thought that is, I am afraid that I am very much a being of this planet earth. Oh, I am not human no, as you can definitely tell, but I am from here,” the person, no, the thing cackles at him.

“What do you want with me?” Derek asks, his voice a little louder and they grate on his nerves, his inability to access his own voice anymore.

“Why, to have fun, of course!” says the being and lets out a loud guffaw, before clapping his hands distinctly three times with the jar presumably containing Derek’s cock in it shoved into his side. The claps ring out loudly and before their echoes could even end, the curtains, for Derek realizes belatedly that he is in fact standing on a stage, part to show an empty theatre. There is no one there, not even shadows in the brightly lit room and the thing cackles again, mirth obvious in its tone and says, “Let the games begin.”

Three men suddenly enter from one side of the stage and pulls the door of the cage open, pushing and pulling Derek out of it. Derek feels embarrassed, shamed at the nudity of his newly gained breasts and he finds himself attempt to cover as much of himself he can, which is near to impossible as his hands are behind his back, tied with the rope. He is shoved into a medical kind of contraption, his hands untied and then strapped into the chair and Derek’s nostrils burn at the wolfsbane that coats the leather straps. His legs are strapped in the same way as well as his head, a broad leather strap going over his forehead and another, with a hold line with steel in the middle covers his mouth.

One of the men, with curiously blazing green eyes like that of a fish, puts on black latex gloves and sits between Derek’s open legs. Derek immediately stiffens. Eyes the gloved hands with anxiety and tries to pull his hands closed with no avail. He unconsciously lets out a slight whimper when the man places the cold glove on his thigh near his cunt, for he sure as hell has one now. The man just rubs his skin there soothingly and tries to ease Derek a bit. In spite of himself, Derek finds himself relax a bit.

The man then starts to rub his hand over Derek’s cunt, touching everything impersonally, letting Derek feel his parts being felt and Derek’s breath hitches. It feels…nice. Next, the man takes up a bottle and squirts a bit into his hand before returning it to Derek’s clit in slow circular motions while another pushes at the opening just underneath and Derek squirms, squirms hard because these are new sensations. When he used to masturbate or have sex with Stiles, his dick felt different, how it had a point of origin in his pleasure, how it seemed to blast out of him with his cum.

This though, this felt different, the spread of the burn almost hazy and sweet and deep and Derek realized that he was wet, he was actually getting aroused being displayed like this by strangers, the hand between his legs eliciting a hunger that he wasn’t even aware of before. The man plays with Derek till he suddenly shrieks, coming, coming with a gush of liquid and it feels like there is blood spreading just under the skin near his cunt and it feels good, so good, and it goes on for minutes, hours, days even, Derek whining in pleasure through it.

The man makes Derek come three more times till he is complacent, till he is pushing his legs open on his own and he is in a daze, his nipples erect and his breast still feeling strange but not foreign as before. While Derek look on dazedly, the man pulls out a catheter out of its package and swipes something on it before pushing it into Derek’s pee hole and Derek’s eyes roll to the back of his head at the sensation – bright flare of pleasure that seems to be stretched thin over pleasure. The man pushed it in some more and then takes the other end and places it in Derek’s mouth through the hole in the leather.

Derek’s eyes are closed and he is faintly sucking at the plastic pipe, fairly out of it, when he feels something pinching at his cunt. His cunt is already sore from all the overstimulation and he pinch turns into a vicious stab of pain that makes him cry out and open his eyes to look on in horror as the man between his legs, who had just made him orgasm almost half a dozen times, sew his vagina shut with a curved needle and a thick thread. The man works on blithely, his movements quick as he swiftly sews up the whole of Derek’s vagina with fat and not too near stitches, the catheter poking out from between tow stitches.

Derek does not even comprehend what is happening. A man is sewing his vagina shut, right after showing him how delicious coming with a vagina is and Derek feels irrational tears fills his eyes in response. He is not even registering the pain anymore, feeling it more as a widespread zing rather than the initial sharp pain. The man sews him up nicely, cuts the left thread and then gets him out of the chair. Derek hisses for the thread pulls at each step, making him thing that it will completely tear out, so he minces his steps as he is pulled by the three previous men to the other side of the stage.

Derek registers that there is a humongous mirror on that side of the stage about two seconds before he sees himself for he had been anxiously looking at his steps and trying not to get distracted by his own swinging breasts, that moved with each step in a way he was completely not used to. There, he sees himself and he feels a deep bloom of shame paint his cheeks red. He looks…he looks…he doesn’t even have the word for it. Derek was not lithe, never had been, and now he stands, with his stubbled cheeks and red painted lips and long lashes that had been etched in thick eyeliner, perhaps applied when he was out cold, his breasts with erect nipples pointing out from a somewhat hairy chest, his cunt sewn shut that looks obscene between his very hairy thighs.

Derek averts his eyes, overcome by strong emotions, but his eyes keep straying back. He is overwhelmed. It is his body but now how he knows it, not how he remembers it and it makes him both sad and angry that sit impotently on his heart. He feels himself helpless.

While one of such a swipe through the mirror Derek suddenly notices that there are people in the theatre now, people in sharp suits and ballroom gowns and Derek is thrown by another bolt of shame and embarrassment and anger as he turns suddenly to see the viewers, the stitches sending a sharp spike of pain through his lower body. That these people have come to see Derek being humiliated so, that they will take his pleasure in his breaking, makes something hot and wild churn his heart. This is not right, a small voice in shouts, in his voice from before, it is not right the tiny voice insists, and yet when the men pull him to the elevated stage in front of the cage, on which now lies a low table, he goes without resistance.

He is put on his stomach, his thighs pushed together so that his stitches do not tear open, the catheter re-inserted into his mouth that had been dribbling urine for some time now, and then, then, they start fucking his ass and mouth. It is brutal, and harsh, with Derek having to struggle for his breath and more men come, with long and wide cocks and feed them to Derek with both ends while his cunt weeps and the catheter slides in along with the cocks, choking him with the steady dribbles as with the relentless throatfucking.

Maybe he comes a few times, maybe he doesn’t, Derek is no longer in his body. Derek feels overwhelmed, sensations in places he did not have before, and for them to be stymied so feels almost criminal. The men are rough in their fucking, possibly tearing his ass open if the pain he feels is any indication. He can also feel his cunt lips being teared open with the hard shoves that leave him having to do sudden scrabbles so as not to go over it. Not that he would with another cock shoved to its roots in his mouth as he struggles to swallow, but the instinct to do so remains.

There are more men on the stage now, obscuring the viewers come to look at Derek getting raped and Derek almost feels thankful except that the buzz of approval from the gathering hums on with a few lines thrown his way to ‘take it better like the whore he is’ and ‘destroy both his useless cunts’ and ‘make him cry in the pain’ and the men get even more harsh in demanding that Derek take all their punishing thrusts without restriction. His hair is soon matted with cum, face shiny with it, blood and cum dripping from his cunt and ass in equal measure and he starts to feel light when someone suddenly spits on his face to add to the mess already there.

Derek’s mouth feels numb as does his ass and cunt. The stitches have completely come out and he is bleeding from both his ass and vagina, and the bitter taste of cum and the acrid aroma of his own piss fills his mouth to overwhelming proportions. He can now make out that there are shouts behind him, most probably from the audience, but, how strange, Derek things, as the world goes dark behind his eyes, his body being used more than he can take or comprehend, how strange, but one of those voice sounded just like Stiles, Derek thinks before toppling wholly right into the darkness.




The krystrel was vicious, the fluids that it had been pumping into Derek’s supine body, making him hallucinate some bad memory or going through a bad experience was also difficult to expunge from his body after the krystrel had been killed with one hard blow to the neck and beheaded. Deaton was called, Chris was reached, Satomi was requested and none seemed to have any remedy to make Derek get better again, certainly without his healing factor kicking in, which went on the fritz due to the fluid. Krystrel were creatures that lured in their victims by making them hallucinate – sirens were second cousins to them.

This particular one had come in revenge for the pack had helped clean a whole clutch that had taken residence near a school in a residential area. This one had somehow escaped and managed to capture Derek by a stroke of bad luck and incapacitated him within minutes. Derek was now apparently in a coma like statis, his vital organs were all ok except that his brain was not. Stiles, unable to bear to leave Derek alone, took to sleeping with him, calling out to him in whispers, and holding onto him with an intensity that was hard to look at.

When Derek woke up after two weeks, the first thing he did was kiss Stiles deeply, deeply and say ‘I love you’ again and again. The second thing he did was get naked and look at his body and talk at the top of his voice. Stiles was bemused, but he joined in as well and hugged him and said as many times as Derek that ‘I love you too’.