Conner was not in good shape. Currently, that had multiple meanings. Firstly, he was not fit. He never had been ever since grade school. No, Conner wasn't fat; he was skinny as a rail, tall and gangly. And at 15, this made him a target at high school. He had the classic geek look, with big glasses, messed-up teeth (minus braces, they hadn't helped), and skin so white it glowed in the dark. He had never been athletic, preferring video games and academics.
But there was another reason why Conner was not currently in good shape. You see, he had just had a beating administered to him by Gage, the 18-year-old star wide receiver with devilish good looks and a toned physique. Gage had an overload of testosterone and this caused him to be more aggressive towards the weak, but the school refused to act for fear of losing a star athlete and of his father, the most powerful man in town.
Now Conner was laying on his bed with bruises everywhere, a black eye, a bloody nose, and a fat lip. He let silent tears roll out of his eyes as he contemplated this. Was this to be his situation for 3 more years? Would Gage just have his place taken by another jock with similar issues?
As if in answer, his phone dinged. Conner opened it and looked at the Wish Granting App, which he did not remember downloading. It claimed to be able to grant any wishes. Conner doubted it, but hearing his mom's car in the driveway and afraid his injuries would frighten her, he desperately decided to try it.
He said, "I wish my injuries were gone." Instantly he looked the way he had when he woke up this morning, and the pain was gone. He closed the phone and greeted his mother, who had brought hone his younger brother Sam, a small8-year-old in speech therapy.
After dinner, Conner decided to try something bigger. Sam would be his test subject, he decided. He started off small, wishing away Sam's speech impediment. When Sam began speaking again, it was free of obstacles.
Now Conner made the biggest test of all. He said, "I wish Sam was 12 years old." Sam never noticed as his legs grew longer, his face matured, his muscles grew but not very much. Soon he looked like a weak 12-year-old version of himself.
Next, Conner said, "I wish Sam were the biggest, cutest, most muscular and popular boy in his new class." Now Sam grew taller still, his hair turning blond and his eyes blue, his face reforming into a handsome one. His muscles swelled beneath his shirt, pillow-like pecs forming a shelf on his chest while 8 cobblestone abs formed below. Biceps swelled to baseball size and legs to football size. Somehow, his clothes didn't rip even when his butt grew bigger. Instead they became form-fitting.
Conner suddenly realized that to fuel this growth Sam had to have had a head start on puberty. Signs of this became apparent, from the obscene bulge in his pants to the blond hairs lightly forming on his cheeks, chest, arms, and legs; as well as the enlarged Adam's apple. He continued not to notice anything.
When Sam stood up, he was the same height as Conner (6'2") and much bulkier (probably 210 pounds to Conner's 125). Beneath the stubble he still had a 12-year-old face, but the body was that of a manly hunk l. He muttered in a deep voice that he was going to bed.
Conner was thrilled. He knew exactly what to do to solve all his problems. He would make his wish the next day at school.