Golden Years (Patreon)

I can feel my powers trickle away faster and faster each decade. I can maintain myself and my lifestyle, but not much more. Oh, how I miss my mischievous youth, perhaps even more than me in my prime. I still make the odd prank when I'm well rested, though it's longer and longer in between, just to make sure I'm still not human.

Just the other day I felt exceptionally great. The stars were just in the right position and someone had died in the building across the street during the night. I was sipping on a morning coffee at my regular place when I saw a particularly sorry sight walking by. A pallid boy in his late teen dragging a wreck of an aura behind him. He probably had been up all night playing games, watching videos, or chatting with classmates he'd barely remember in a decade's time. I didn't bother to take a closer look inside, but it's remarkably boringly similar concerns all adolescents have. He'd be my next victim.

Toying with a single person isn't that much of an effort yet, thank goddesses, not even when you bring the whole world along. I bet few people would pay enough attention to register that the boy was slowly growing as he walked towards the intersection, but I don't want to get sloppy at old age. To anyone who watched him the world they lived in would be a world where he always looked like he looked in that instance. The very next moment when he was ever so slightly taller and just a tad buffer they would live in a world where he had always looked like that.

I even made him unaware of the changes that were happening to him, at least then and there. The baggy T-shirt was beginning to strain over his chest and shoulders, the shorts no longer reached to his knees and started hugging his growing butt. He took a few awkward steps to remedy chafing and he tried his best to reposition his dick and balls as they became quite eye-catching straining against the fabric.

In a final mustering of effort I warped the world ever so slightly to make his name Thad. Every document and ID-card, every computer database, every signature, name sign, vacation souvenir, all now said Thad. Everyone who knew him, his friends, his teachers, his relatives, his father, his mother, they all knew him as Thad, remembered him as Thad. The only one who didn’t was he, whatever his name was. It was only when he discovered everyone had a different name for him he realized his body was radically different from what it ought to be. That he had six pack and pecs. That if he flexes his arm there is a sizable bulge of muscle. That no one else could remember him any different, at least not recently must be maddening to him. Even more so when all the rest of the clothes in his wardrobe match his new size.

A fucked mind for a fuckable body is a fair and equal exchange I would think, and I'm too old for unbalanced magic anyway.