"As your friend, I feel like I maybe need to ask one more time...you're sure about this," Ezra asked. Leaning casually back, a muscled arm resting on the top of the sofa while his meaty thighs swung absently, the fit brunette was doing his best to not let his amusement show. Considering Blake's current outfit, as well as the nature of the other man's request, it was no easy feat. The wiry blonde was clad only in a pair of grey, oversized boxer briefs that had been purloined from a mutual acquaintance. The extra-large garment hung loose off the blonde's, who normally wore a small/medium in his own underwear, trim hips and threatened to slip free entirely if Blake didn't constantly pull them back into position. As it was he kept giving Ezra glimpses of his tight, perky little bubble, while his long, swaying cock bounced noticeably against the baggy pouch.
"For the last time, yes," Blake sighed, running a hand through his thick, golden hair. The motion caused the boxer briefs to slip once more, but he only gave Ezra a quick peek at his matching bush before catching them. He couldn't help but blush as he looked at his athletic friend, the mingling of embarrassment and insecurity only further cementing his decision. Blake was tired of being so small. Despite working out every day and eating enough protein to fuel a football team, the wiry man's lean frame refused to bulk up. He did everything his lifter friends told him to. He read all the articles, watched all the videos, and he'd even hired a personal trainer, but the muscle refused to come. All Blake had to show for his efforts was a solid, shredded frame covered in the kind of ample definition that most guys, even the bigger ones, would love to have. His naturally smooth skin only enhanced the display, letting Blake show off the rivers and channels that chiseled their way across his tight body. Coupled with his lush, yellow hair, sharp, symmetrical features, and the impressive cock that kept trying to escape, Blake objectively had nothing to feel insecure about. But looking at Ezra's slightly bulkier frame, and the way the other man's pecs pressed heavily against his thin t-shirt, and how meaty his thighs were as they rocked back and forth, all the toned blonde could think was that it was unfair.
Ezra barely worked out. He put in a handful of hours at the gym each week and played on a rec league baseball team, yet he still managed to acquire the tapering, broad-shouldered build that Blake longed for. His friend looked every bit the stereotypical jock, while he was closer to the nerds that got picked on. He'd had enough. At twenty five, Blake knew that if his body hadn't put on the muscle yet it was never going to, so he needed to find alternative means of reaching his goal. The thin man doubted that even steroids could get him where he wanted to go, so he'd turned to more obscure resources.
Blake spent hours plumbing the depths of the internet, growing increasingly desperate to the point where he was literally seeking out a magical solution. He finally stumbled across a supposed ritual that could grant his wish, and he'd even managed to convince himself that it was real. He'd had to translate it from the original Icelandic, and he still wasn't entirely sure of all the details, but he felt confident that he grasped enough of the process to move forward. Though the process itself was embarrassing, and would only become more so shortly, Blake knew it would all be worth it if it worked.
He didn't want to be Ezra's size; he wanted to be bigger. He wanted to bulk up to heaping proportions like their friend Emmett, whose underwear he currently wore, and guys like their friend Andy. They were all towering, sculpted Adonises, stage-ready bodybuilders with broad, strapping frames so bloated with muscle they looked ready to burst. If Blake could get a body like that, a few minutes of humiliation would be worth it.
"I'm just asking because you're about to do some bootleg witch shit while wearing another dude's stolen underwear," Ezra laughed. "You've always been a little weird, bro, but this is pushing it. Even for you."
"Come on, man. Don't make this any harder than it already is," Blake grumbled. He specifically asked Ezra for his help because of how long they'd known each other. They'd split a dorm in college and later an apartment, becoming intimately acquainted over the years. They'd shared showers and beds, had seen each other in every state imaginable, and though Blake knew that Ezra would give him a hard time he also knew his friend would at least humor him. The ritual needed a witness, and considering what was required, Blake needed it to be someone he could trust. "I'm not super looking forward to this part either."
"At least you're getting something out of it," Ezra said, rolling his eyes. "I just get to watch a dude jerk off. You're sure you translated it right?"
Blake nodded and tugged on the underwear. "I need the soil, which Emmett so graciously provided. And which he will never, ever hear about," he said, glaring. "What he doesn't know can't hurt him. I'll buy him another pair and slip them back into his locker and he'll never even know. But now that I have the soil, I have to provide the, uh, seed myself." He gestured down to the circle of herbs and seeds on the floor that surrounded him in a tight ring before pulling down the waist of the boxer briefs and turning the elastic over. It left the base of his cock exposed, but considering what was about to happen Blake didn't see any reason to worry about it. "I got all the herbs and drew the symbols in the waistband, so now all I have to do is focus and 'plant my seed' or whatever. Once that's done I gather it all up in a bundle and toss it in the fireplace. Boom. Done."
"Did it ever occur to you that this all sounds a little too easy? How come everyone isn't out there doing it if this is all it takes?"
"Maybe they are," Blake shrugged. "It's magic, dude. Maybe once it's over no one knows anything happened?"
"Or maybe you stumbled on some Icelandic fetish site and it's all roleplay bullshit," the exasperated jock said, shaking his head. "You seriously owe me for this. So do I have to 'watch' watch, or can I just be here?"
"Dude, I know. Whatever you want, just name it. The instructions only said I needed a witness, so whatever you're comfortable with I guess."
Ezra took a deep breath as he sat forward and nervously rubbed his thighs. He gave a short, awkward laugh and nodded to the crackling hearth behind Blake. "I'm not comfortable with any of it. Just make sure you point that thing over there."
"I guess it's now or never." Blake turned towards the fire and stepped into the circle, his heart racing. He ignored the voice in his head that kept trying to tell him Ezra was right, that this was all just fantasy. He had to believe it was real for the ritual to work, just like he had to constantly think about what he wanted to become. It didn't make things easy. The wiry blonde's normally eager cock was slow to stir as he filled his head with images of Emmett, Andy, and the other brawny hulks he envied at the gym. His thoughts kept trying to drift to the curvy, buxom women he usually fantasized about, but he forced them to stay on task, swapping them out for muscular, masculine flesh.
Eventually he fell into a rhythm, and instead of being mortified by the knowledge that he was jerking himself off through a pair of another man's underwear, while Ezra watched, he was turned on by it. Blake was far from an exhibitionist but he'd never done anything even remotely like this, and the novelty of the situation was arousing all on its own. Once he gave in and stopped fighting the images flowed fast and easy, leaving him free to imagine what it would be like to wrap his hands around Emmett's fat cock, or to feel Andy's mountainous pecs flexing against his hands. He gradually started to picture himself in a matching, inflated frame, not just as one of them, but as partaking of them. Without fully understanding why or where the thoughts had come from, Blake started imagining the others inside him, their rigid cocks buried to the hilt in his muscled globes while he bellowed and flexed his powerful new body.
"Unngg..." The quiet grunt and subtle spasm were nothing like the rapturous explosions Blake pictured in his head. It came without warning, and the blonde's drooping eyes shot open in time to see his spurting loads soak through the front of the purloined underwear. He stood and caught his breath, fighting back the tide of embarrassment now that the lust was fading. He could feel the breeze on his right cheek, the back of the underwear having slid down, and he wondered what Ezra had been thinking about watching the little bubble flex as he'd pumped against his hand. He was still thinking about it when he slid the sopping boxer-briefs free and started to gather up the circle of herbs and seeds on the floor.
"That didn't take long," Ezra said, his amused tone giving away the grin that Blake refused to turn around and look at.
The naked man was trying not to flash his hole as he bent and scooped up the remains. He was becoming increasingly aware of his nudity, which wasn't anything that Ezra hadn't already seen plenty of times, but Blake's head still swam with the confusing fantasies. "I told you it wouldn't be bad," he said over a shoulder. He could feel the other man's eyes on him, and he only hoped his friend hadn't recorded him for blackmail material later. "Just have to throw this on the fire and we're all set," Blake sighed, tossing the bundle into the flames. There was a loud, hissing sizzle and a cloud of pungent smoke that spilled out into the room, seeming to circle around his exposed frame before rocketing up the chimney. Blake coughed and waved his hand in front of his face to clear the smoke, surprised to see the bundle already reduced to a smoldering pile of ash by the time his eyes cleared.
"You don't look any different. Aren't you supposed to be bigger or something?"
