"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."
