Dennis had seen ads all over the internet for a new pair of boxer briefs, ones that supposedly gave your package room to breathe. He constantly heard that marketing ploy, thinking he could just ignore it, but it wouldn't go away. Supposedly the room promoted size growth, bigger privates, and finally he was convinced to try them. Dennis excitedly slipped them on once they arrived, wondering if he'd feel a difference as he went about his day.
He was amazed at how comfortable he felt in them, not having any problems walking around with them on. He felt looser and more relaxed with each step, noticing a slight bounce in his package that grew heavier the longer the day went on. He couldn't help but notice his bulge growing more and more visible in his shorts, feeling cockier and cockier as it became more pronounced.
He didn't notice that as more blood flowed into his member, the slower his mind got. He started having trouble remembering words and directions, needing to ask the same question several times to understand the answer. It wasn't until he had trouble going home that he realized something must be wrong, needing to pull up a GPS to remember where he was.
He looked down at his hung meat, knowing it must have been the cause. It was too late, his dumb apathy overwhelming any reason to stop wearing the shorts. He couldn't help but feel pride from his impressive package, unable to grasp the value of what he had lost, preferring to be the dumb himbo he was now.