Blue Boxer yanked against the glowing ropes, muscles taut, veins bulging like cables. The mystical bindings pulsed in response, each surge of energy sending a warm tingle across his skin.
The Mad Magician twirled his wand above his head, sparks raining down like confetti.
“Now, now, let’s not struggle too hard, my good man. Wouldn’t want to pop a bicep,” he teased, circling Blue Boxer like a cat admiring a trapped canary. “Mmm, the tension, the drama… it’s positively theatrical! But something’s missing.”
He paused, tapping the wand thoughtfully against his jowly chin.
“Oh yes! Proper attire! You see, dear nemesis, for far too long you’ve played the part of the macho enforcer—gritty, mysterious, emotionally unavailable. But what if I... peeled back the layers?”
“You try anything funny and I swear—” Blue Boxer snarled.
“Oh, I’m counting on it,” Mad Magician interrupted gleefully, flicking the wand in a quick arc. The tip pulsed with a mischievous pinkish hue. “Let’s see you wriggle out of this.”
ZZAP!
A ripple of energy washed over Blue Boxer’s body, warm and fuzzy like static caught in velvet. The binding ropes vanished. For a moment, Blue Boxer tried to rush forward and strike his foe, but the desire melted away. A peculiar compulsion took root in his mind. His eyes widened.
“Oh no. No no no—”
He tried to keep his arms stiff, to resist the rising urge, but his hands moved anyway — as if possessed. Fingers fumbled at his utility belt, unbuckling it with practiced ease.
“What... what is this?!” he growled, dropping the belt with a heavy clunk. His gloves were next, tossed aside like gym towels. “You little—this is a spell! You're making me undress!”
“Ding ding ding!” The Mad Magician clapped, delighted. “Ten points to the beefcake in the ring. You’ve fallen victim to my patented ‘Wardrobe Whimsy’ incantation. Side effects include mild shame, involuntary undressing, and the audience’s uncontrollable giggling.”
Blue Boxer grunted, trying to stop himself, but the enchantment worked like a puppeteer with invisible strings. His fingers gripped the hem of his sleeveless tactical shirt and yanked it up over his head, revealing taut abs and a hairy chest.
“Grrgh—dammit!”
“Ooooh,” the magician crooned, fanning himself with his hat. “Those shoulders! That definition! No wonder you hide under shadows and bravado. You’re sculpted like an angry Greek statue with commitment issues.”
Pants were next. Against all of Blue Boxer’s gritted determination, his fingers found the waistband of his black tactical trousers, tugging them down with a sharp motion. He kicked them off, boots and all, now clad in nothing but a pair of blue boxer briefs bearing his namesake.
“Real subtle branding,” Mad Magician snorted.
“You’re dead,” Blue Boxer spat, cheeks burning crimson, muscles flexed in helpless fury.
“You’ve said that before.” The magician leaned in close, one pudgy finger tapping Blue Boxer’s nose. “But here you are — trussed up and trimmed down to your skivvies like my personal plaything. Now the real fun can begin.”
Blue Boxer stood helplessly, his chiseled chest rising and falling with frustration. Clad only in his snug blue boxer briefs, the muscles in his arms and legs twitching with restrained fury.
The Mad Magician paced like a ringmaster, wand twirling as if conducting a very private circus. His eyes glinted beneath his crooked top hat, and his belly jiggled with every giggle.
“Do you feel it, Boxer? That tingle in the air? That pull of destiny? That inexplicable urge to admire my... girth?”
Blue Boxer blinked, confused. “What the hell are you talking about now?”
The Magician paused, grinning with a hint of something wicked. He twirled the wand once, then jabbed it forward like a fencer’s blade. With a flash of shimmering gold and pink, a strange new pulse rolled through Blue Boxer’s body — warm, dreamy, and just... odd. His lips parted, and his brows furrowed. He looked at the Mad Magician... then looked again.
There was something about the roundness of that belly, the way the Magician’s tuxedo stretched tight across it, how his cheeks puffed up with every smug chuckle. The size of his enormous rump puffing out his dress pants. Boxer had always found the guy annoying, but now...
Blue Boxer’s face flushed deeper. He shook his head like a wet dog. “No. No way. That’s not—You did something!”
“Moi?” the Magician said innocently, patting his gut with both hands. Whap-whap. “I merely helped you discover your true taste in men. After all, doesn’t it make sense? You’ve been punching and grappling wiry street thugs for decades. Isn’t it time you learned to appreciate a little... substance?”
“Turn it off!” Blue Boxer barked, face redder than ever. But his eyes kept darting toward that belly. That soft, bouncing, teasing belly. He grimaced, confused, conflicted, and utterly flustered.
“Look at you,” Mad Magician cooed, spinning dramatically. “Blushing, twitching, totally helpless. All wrapped up and suddenly finding me—me!—a bit hard to look away from. Isn’t that rich?”
“Get out of my head,” Blue Boxer growled, biting down on the inside of his cheek to refocus.
“Too late,” the magician sang, leaning close enough for Blue Boxer to smell cinnamon and cheap cologne. “Now the question is… do you want more? Or should I let this spell simmer… while you stew in your skivvies?”
He tapped the wand to Blue Boxer’s crotch, and instantly, a heroic erection tented the blue boxer briefs. Blue Boxer gave a helpless moan of desire. He suddenly wanted nothing more than to belong to the big fat magician.