Daily Dose of Magic - Part 7 (Patreon)

Bryon eventually drifted into sleep, drained after such a massive climax—at least emotionally, since physically, his body was still overfilled, enormous, and leaking endlessly. He lay sprawled across the bed, unmoving except for the steady rise and fall of his chest. From above, he looked less like a man and more like a massive hill of muscle that had somehow decided to rest indoors.

His height hadn’t changed—still six feet tall—but everything else about him felt impossible on that frame. His shoulders stretched wider than the mattress itself, forcing the bed to bow under the strain. The frame creaked softly every time he shifted, complaining beneath the immense weight. His muscles weren’t only bigger; they felt reinforced, packed tight, as if every fiber had strengthened from the inside.

His traps rose high and thick, crowding his neck so much that his head seemed nestled between solid hills. His shoulders were enormous, rounded, and heavy, pushing his arms outward even at rest. His chest was truly gigantic, each pec as big as yoga balls, heaving softly in his sleep. His skin was smooth and glossy, still faintly pulsing as though the magic hadn’t fully settled. They rose so high that, even awake, Bryon wouldn’t have been able to see past them.

His arms lay heavy at his sides. Even relaxed, they looked burdened by their mass—perfectly rounded biceps, thick and full triceps, and dense and veined forearms. His torso had thickened too, not soft but reinforced, carrying a pressurized roundness that felt powerful, built to support what sat above it.

Below that, his hips had widened, forced to accommodate the new mass stacked on top. His ass pressed deep into the mattress, enough to leave visible indentations. His thighs were so thick they couldn’t rest together; his legs remained spread simply because there was no other way. Even his calves looked dense and powerful, shaped like sculpted stone. And between them, his 4-foot-long cock and gigantic balls sat heavily, shifting slightly with his breathing.

Even asleep, his body felt overfull, subtly active despite the motionless state.

Blaine stayed atop him for a while, stretched out across that immense chest, feeling absurdly small despite being taller. Every breath Bryon took lifted him and set him back down again. The surface beneath him was warm and firm, subtly moving with each inhale, and Blaine found himself sinking just a little into the dense rise of muscle every time Bryon exhaled.

Eventually, though, he couldn’t help but wonder what would happen with Bryon if the changes never faded. He loved the immense mass that worked as a bed for him, but he knew it wasn’t practical, and Bryon couldn’t have a normal life at this point.

When Blaine finally moved, he did it carefully. He slid an arm free, then shifted his weight, easing himself down Bryon’s broad chest. The motion set off a chain reaction—the bed dipped, the frame groaned, and Bryon let out a low, sleepy moan without waking. Blaine’s feet met the floor with a soft, wet sound, reminding him of the warm and sticky cream covering almost every single inch of the bedroom.

The room was a mess. Not only the floor, but everything—bedposts, sheets, the edge of the desk. Even Blaine’s own legs and hands were covered with a thick sheen that made him smile. It was on his skin, pooling in low spots, and streaked across surfaces. The air felt humid, with a peculiar sweet‑metallic scent that made Blaine take a deep breath to feel it better. He knew exactly what it was, but he wanted to smell it better because it was 100% Bryon.

Blaine paused, looking down, then slowly around. Every step he took made a faint, wet sound, and his toes left shallow impressions that filled in again after a moment, like the room itself was still settling. He moved carefully, testing his footing, half‑amazed at how the cream had overtaken the whole place.

He climbed onto his bed, bringing some of the mess with him, and the mattress dimpled under his weight as he sat and pulled his legs up. From there, he took a moment to breathe and look. Bryon made the whole room look tiny, even from across.

Sprawled across the mattress, coated in the same pale cream, Bryon looked even larger somehow—his chest looked magnificent, his heavy limbs were massive even when relaxed, and everything about him was oversized, to say the least. His cock alone was big enough to shock anyone, but the rest of him wouldn’t go unnoticed. The contrast made Blaine feel even smaller by comparison, lean and narrow on his own bed, surrounded by the aftermath of what Bryon’s shaft had shot like a hose.

For a moment, Blaine watched—the size, how the bed bowed under Bryon’s weight, and the faint pulse still visible in his chest. There was something almost peaceful about it now.

Only then did Blaine reach for the spellbook again, opening it with more care this time. He wasn’t skimming anymore. He leaned forward, actually reading, determined to understand what had changed.

Minutes passed. Time slipped by without Blaine noticing. He turned the pages slowly under as the room stayed quiet except for the soft creak of the strained bed and Bryon’s breathing. He only snapped out of it when Bryon started snoring—a deep sound that rumbled through his chest and carried across the room. Blaine glanced up and smirked. Even the sound of it felt oversized now, like everything else about him.

Bryon lay there, massive and relaxed, completely unaware of the space he took up, of the mess left behind, or of the way his body still seemed to buzz faintly. Blaine shook his head, exhaling through a small smile, and lowered his eyes back to the book.

He leaned closer and paid close attention to handwritten notes in the margins of each page. Some squeezed into corners; others trailed along the sides in slanted lines. The handwriting was uneven, sometimes rushed, sometimes careful, and clearly added long after the spells themselves had been written down. These weren’t instructions. They were reactions. He had seen some of them before, but now he was really paying attention to them.

Some were blunt. “Thick cock—bad idea.”

And a few were almost apologetic. “Ass too big. No pants fit.”

Blaine stared at the words, then let out a quiet laugh that surprised him. He realized his dad’s notes weren’t polished or professional; they were messy and impulsive—human. His dad hadn’t only written spells—he’d tried them. He had pushed them and apparently learned the hard way more than once.

Blaine smiled for a second, then softened into something else. The laughter faded into something heavier. He traced one of the notes with his thumb, imagining his dad hunched over this same book, scribbling warnings after things went wrong, or maybe after they went a little too right. He looked at Bryon again and couldn’t help but wonder if he ever tried to reach a size as shocking as what Blaine had done to his roommate.

The fact that he had no way to know hurt quietly. Realizing how much he would’ve liked to talk with his dad about this whole thing. How easy it was to picture sitting in this same room, swapping stories, laughing over bad ideas, and testing spells only to see what would happen. They could’ve learned together. But it was not how Blaine’s story had been. He swallowed, turned the page, and froze.

In the margin, circled and decorated with little smiley faces, was a date.

24–3. March twenty‑fourth. Blaine’s birthday.

Blaine couldn’t avoid the tears misting his eyes as he realized that his dad had been excited about having him. The emotion hit too hard. He closed the book for a moment and took a slow breath. Then he turned the book around and, for the first time, noticed something there. He saw letters that only appeared when he tilted the book at a certain angle against the light. The writing was almost faded, but he managed to read it.

“Desire holds magic,” he said aloud.

The words flared red for a heartbeat, glowing the same way his fingers did when he cast a spell. Blaine startled, nearly dropping the book. The glow faded, but the words remained—not more clearly than only a second ago.

He repeated the phrase. Nothing happened. Still, the idea settled slowly. Something deep inside him told Blaine that those words had something to do with the permanence of the spells. He started thinking about Bryon’s reaction to each spell. The difference between fear and enjoyment, as Blaine had tested several of them during the week. Only one thing had changed: Bryon’s mindset around them. Blaine’s stomach twisted as the realization clicked into place.

It wasn’t the spell; it was wanting the results—desiring the size it caused. That way, the magic became permanent. Desire holds magic. He looked at Bryon, sleeping peacefully despite his overwhelming size. He liked this. He really did. And somehow, that liking had made it stick.

The thought made Blaine laugh softly. The conclusion sounded too ridiculous, but made sense. But there was only one way to find one. He thought for a moment, trying to find something that he had always desired to see if it would make the effects permanent.

“Well, I’ve always wanted a bigger cock,” he said, looking into the book for that specific spell, and after a moment’s hesitation, he cast it softly. Magic answered. The sensation built in his groin, and his cock grew longer and thicker before his eyes until it stopped at about 13 inches long. When Blaine released the spell, the change didn’t fade.

He stared down at himself, stunned. Then he smiled—that’s how it worked.

After a while, he returned to Bryon’s bed and carefully climbed back onto that massive chest, shifting until he found a spot that didn’t make the bed protest too loudly. Bryon groaned faintly but didn’t wake. Blaine rested his cheek against the warm muscle and closed his eyes. He couldn’t stop thinking that if enjoyment made the effects permanent, then Bryon would be stuck like this forever. Blaine couldn’t help but blame himself for it.

Then Bryon stirred, slightly shifting one heavy arm and making Blaine chuckle. He let the thought go and drifted to sleep.

That night, he had a dream. Blaine stood atop something vast. The ground beneath his feet was smooth and stretched tight. When he knelt and touched it, it felt like skin—almost pulsing. Looking around, he saw hills rise in every direction, endless and flesh‑colored, trembling faintly beneath him.

“Blaine,” a thunderous voice said, loud enough to hurt Blaine’s ears.

The hills trembled hard, and the vibration rolled beneath his feet in heavy waves. Far in the distance, the surface ruptured, and massive columns of blinding white surged upward without warning, erupting like violent geysers. They shot skyward with overwhelming force, climbing higher and higher until they vanished into the clouds.

“Son,” the voice said softly, closer now. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t go back.”

The ground reacted to each eruption, tightening and flexing as if the entire landscape was straining under some internal pressure. Seconds later, the shockwaves reached Blaine, knocking his balance sideways as the skin beneath him rippled and shook, overwhelmed by whatever had just burst free.

Blaine woke with a sharp breath. The sun was already out, and he was still sprawled across Bryon, who shifted beneath him. The bed creaked. Blaine felt himself rise slightly as Bryon inhaled, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the dream. Slowly, he caressed Bryon’s massive pecs, and the realization sent a shiver through him. The sensation was the same. It meant that in his dream, he had stood atop immense pecs—maybe Bryon’s. But then the word “son” echoed in his mind, and the confusion took hold.

He shook his head and focused instead on Bryon, whose eyes were starting to open, heavy with sleep. Blaine stayed still for a second, watching Bryon wake.

Bryon’s eyes opened slowly, unfocused at first, then sharpened as they landed on Blaine’s face. A smile spread across his lips, the kind that made Blaine feel special. “Well,” Bryon said, “I must be dead. Because I’m pretty sure I’m looking at an angel lying on my chest.”

Blaine laughed, rolling his eyes as he shifted his weight slightly. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Mm, no,” Bryon replied, smiling wider. “I’m serious. You look stunning this morning.”

They stayed like that for a moment—Blaine resting against Bryon’s chest, Bryon looking impossibly pleased with himself. His breathing was slow and deep, and every inhale lifted Blaine a little before setting him back down again. It was hard not to smile at how natural it felt.

“How do you feel?” Blaine asked, softer now.

Bryon took a deep breath, thinking. “Heavy. Huge. Kinda ridiculous.” He flexed slightly, and his chest shifted under Blaine in a way that made them both laugh. “But honestly? The best part is having you right here.” He flexed again on purpose this time, bouncing his chest just enough to tease.

Blaine let out a surprised sound and instinctively planted his hands on the mountainous pecs to steady himself. “Hey,” he protested, laughing. “Don’t do that.”

Bryon grinned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not doing anything.”

Blaine’s hands stayed where they were, though. He kneaded the dense muscle absently, still amazed by how solid it felt, packed tight and responding instantly to every bit of pressure. His hands shifted as he laughed, and without meaning to, his thumb dragged straight across one of Bryon’s thick, sensitive nipples.

The involuntary reaction was more intense than any of them expected.

Bryon sucked in a sharp breath, too exaggerated for such a subtle touch. His whole body jolted, and his shoulders jumped as a violent shiver raced through him from chest to toes. His back arched on instinct, and a low moan tore out of his throat before he could stop it.

“Oh—wow—” Bryon gasped, shocked. “Okay. Yeah. That was—that was the nipple.”

Blaine froze, then burst out laughing. “I barely touched it!”

“I know!” Bryon laughed too, shaking his head in disbelief as another aftershock rolled through him. “I didn’t know my body was gonna betray me like that.”

Blaine stared down, almost daring to repeat the action. “Your body is very responsive.”

“Apparently,” Bryon said, shaking his head in disbelief. “I feel like everything’s turned up to eleven. So let’s take it easy.”

Blaine smiled and nodded. “Sure. But I can’t promise I won’t do it again.”

“Okay. But warn me the next time.” Bryon shifted slightly, testing the space around him, then smirked. “You know, I think I might officially be too much for this room.”

Blaine snorted. “That implies you weren’t already.”

Bryon laughed, visibly pleased, and flexed to make the muscle roll under Blaine’s hands. “Hey, I’m just saying. I breathe now, and things move.”

Blaine dragged his hands slowly over the massive muscles. “Wow. So humble.”

“I’m realistic,” Bryon replied, grinning. “Look at me. I take up space. It’s kind of my thing.”

“You always took up space,” Blaine shot back. “Now you’re just louder about it.”

Bryon tilted his head, clearly enjoying the attention. “And yet, you haven’t moved your hands. You won’t tell me you’re not loving this.”

Blaine paused, then shrugged, pretending it meant nothing. “Occupational hazard.”

Bryon chuckled and flexed again on purpose, making his chest shift under Blaine like it had a will of its own. “Admit it. You like the upgrade.”

Blaine rolled his eyes, but his hands stayed put. “Okay, okay. I do. You look great.”

“And getting better by the minute. And it’s all thanks to you,” Bryon said, flashing a cocky smile that made it hard to argue.

Eventually, Blaine tilted his head, as curiosity got the better of him. “Okay,” he said. “Real question. Can you actually get up like this?”

Bryon grinned. “Only one way to find out.”

Blaine carefully climbed off him, and Bryon immediately felt the shift.

Sitting up wasn’t simple anymore. Bryon’s upper body pulled forward with its own heavy momentum, and for a few seconds, he struggled, bracing himself with his arms like a massive turtle trying to turn to land on its feet.

Blaine reached out without thinking, grabbing Bryon’s arm. The shock hit him instantly—it wasn’t only solid, it was immovable, like wrapping his hand around a thick tree trunk. He knew he wasn’t actually helping, not really, but he kept his grip anyway, feeling muscle bunch and slide under his fingers as Bryon fought for leverage.

“Okay—okay, give me a second,” Bryon said, breathy but laughing. “My center of gravity has officially filed a complaint.”

He adjusted, planting his hands wider and locking his elbows as he forced his weight back. The bed groaned in protest, wood and springs creaking loud enough to feel through the frame. With one final push, he made it upright—and the mattress rebounded slightly once his mass shifted off it.

Then he swung his legs toward the edge, and his balls slid off the mattress edge under their own momentum and dropped heavily to the floor with a deep, dull thump that made the room shudder. Bryon sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, tensing his shoulders. For a split second, it clearly hurt—then his expression flipped, melting into a crooked grin.

“Oh—wow,” he said, exhaling slowly. “Okay. That was intense. Not bad. Just—different.” He rolled his shoulders, shaking the sensation off, laughing at himself as the floor settled beneath him.

He stood slowly. It took a wide stance and a moment of stillness to find his balance. Once upright, he paused, feeling how his weight settled differently now—top-heavy and low-heavy at the same time. Every small adjustment made him realize that his body needed a second to catch up with itself.

“I feel like I need more room,” he said, glancing around.

Blaine stepped back to take him in fully. “You are more room.”

Bryon smirked at that, clearly enjoying the look he was getting. He shifted his stance carefully, listening to the floor creak under him, then spread his feet a little more until it felt right. He reached out and gently pulled Blaine closer, as close as his size allowed.

“You know,” Bryon said softly, “this has been the wildest week of my life. But it’s also been the best.”

Blaine smiled and rested his hands against Bryon’s chest again. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

“I love it,” Bryon said without hesitation. “Even if I don’t know if I’ll ever be ‘normal’ again.” He paused, then added softly, “As long as you’re here, I don’t care about that.”

Blaine paused for a second. “You know, I actually have some news about—” he started saying, but Bryon interrupted him.

“Later,” Bryon said. “Right now, all I need to know is that you’re with me.” He took a breath, steady and sure. “Because I love you.”

Blaine’s heart skipped. For a second, he couldn’t speak at all. Then he smiled and took a deep breath. “I love you too.”

They leaned in, finding a way around Bryon’s broad chest to meet in a kiss. It was soft at first, then deeper and more passionate.

Halfway through the kiss, a sharp heat flared behind Blaine’s eyes. His hands tingled, then burned, as warmth spilled down his arms like a current snapping to life. He sucked in a breath against Bryon’s lips, caught off guard—and when his eyes opened, they glowed bright red, intensely. His fingers glowed as well, and the magic shimmered along his skin like it had been waiting for this exact moment.

Bryon felt it too. A rough groan rolled out of his chest as his eyes opened, glowing to match Blaine’s. Heat wrapped around them, and the air itself seemed to buzz, like the room was holding its breath. Their breathing broke into faster pants as their whole bodies melted into the oddly pleasing sensation. Neither of them moved. They stayed pressed together, lips still touching, bodies locked in place as the heat built and the glowing intensified.

...

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