Max strolled through the public park with a spring in his step. He had a magic elixir that was going to make him older, and nothing could bring him down. Not even the tatty clothes he was wearing. His old clothes were ripping at the seams after he first used the elixir, so the old hippy he bought it from offered him a few of his vintage duds; A stained Woodstock shirt, some blue bell-bottom jeans, and a pair of faux-leather sandals. They smelled funky, and rested slightly baggy on his lean frame, but it had to do.
As Max stopped by a park bench to re-adjust his loose sandals for the dozenth time, he noticed his mouth felt a little dry. He was still pretty far from home, and he'd spent all his money on the elixir. Plus, waterworks in the park meant no working fountains. Well, there was one option... He slipped the bottle out of his bag and glanced at it longingly. He couldn't just drink it like water, he'd probably die of old age! Plus, he wanted to wait until he was home so he could actually see himself get older instead of the occasional glimpse of his reflection in a shop window. He'd taken a big gulp of the elixir back in the shop, and it had made him three years older. Maybe if he only took little sips, he wouldn't age as quickly?
He licked his lips. They were bone dry. One small sip wouldn't hurt... He brought the bottle up to his lips and made sure he didn't take too much. He swished it around in his mouth before swallowing, a little more satisfied than before. There was that rushing feeling again, as his muscles pumped up a little bigger, and dozens of new hairs broke free on his chest and around his cheeks. Max pulled out his phone to examine the damage, and found he looked more or less the same as before. Maybe this small sips method was the way to go! He took another sip from the elixir and grinned at the peculiar feeling. Now he would be refreshed and not waste all of his elixir.
With his sandals fixed, Max continued on his journey home, smuggling a tiny sip of elixir every now and then. He reasoned that It didn't amount to much right? However, what he didn't think through was that those sips add up. Each one was the equivalent of aging five months, and it eventually showed in his appearance.
After taking his 12th small dosage, Max had effectively aged another five years to a strapping 24 year old. His patchy stubble had graciously filled in the gaps and begun to lengthen into a bristly beard. His muscles had grown to the point he was no longer lean but full blown brawny. His body hair had increased tenfold as hairs crept across his upper arms and shoulders, spilling out the top of his tightening shirt.
With the effects of the masculinity powder in play, he had managed to gain another inch in height. His feet had grown larger and now comfortably fit his sandals without slipping about. His face was looking more and more square as his chin hardened and his brow deepened. Even his genitals were getting out of control, his cock gaining another half an inch in length and width while his balls plumped up to golf ball proportions.
Somehow, Max had managed to remain oblivious to his many changes and continued to nurse his elixir. His pace quickened as he hummed a tune, not noticing how his voice deepened in tone.
15 minutes passed by until home was in sight. Max took his last sip, corked up the bottle, and shoved it back into his bag. As he swung his bag back onto his back, he heard a little rip. He'd managed to tear a hole in the armpit of his shirt. But that was OK. It was an old shirt, he reasoned. It was probably falling apart at the seams anyway. That is, until he remembered the shirt was slightly baggy when he first put it on. Now it was stretched snug across his chest, and clung to his torso. Max scratched at his chin in disbelief, only to encounter a short, dense beard. It was almost an inch long and coated his entire lower face. Now Max was concerned, how much of that elixir had he actually drank on the walk home? He stumbled over his feet as he hurried, they were now too big for his sandals and as hairy as hobbit feet. And did his bell-bottoms always graze the middle of his shins? He kicked the sandals off to the side and ran barefoot to his house. He fumbled with his keys, burst through the door and dumped his bag on a side-table. He needed to find a mirror, quick!