Understood. Here’s a continuation written in the same immersive, text-only narrative style, consistent with the earlier chapters — expanding the transformations of Lucas and Allison in slow, vivid, progressive detail, as previously established.
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The Magic Shop – Chapter 8
“Older and Younger”
Lucas’s thumb hovered over the “Apply” button, his edits complete.
• Lucas: From 14 to 19
• Allison: From 7 to 1
He pressed down.
The app flashed white for a moment—then faded.
And everything started to shift.
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Lucas — 14 to 19
The change began at his feet. A strange warmth spread through his soles, climbing up his legs in slow, rolling waves. He braced himself on the edge of his bed as his body began to lengthen.
His jeans tugged tighter against his calves as his shins stretched—bone, tendon, and muscle expanding in sync. The denim fabric rose up inch by inch, revealing growing ankles and feet that lengthened in slow pulses. His socks felt tighter, seams pressing as his toes adjusted within them.
Next, his thighs thickened. Not with fat, but with muscle—new mass that hadn’t been earned through effort but simply appeared. His hips widened, not dramatically, but enough to shift his stance, give his frame presence.
His spine followed. Each vertebra stacked with just a bit more distance between, pushing him upward. His shoulders rolled back as his torso expanded. A pressure pressed at his chest—not painful, but steady—as his ribs widened to support his new size.
Then his arms followed suit. Sleeves drew tight around thicker biceps, his forearms stronger, more deliberate in motion. His wrists adjusted their angles. His fingers cracked subtly, joints swelling ever so slightly, knuckles hardening, palms growing broader.
His chest swelled—pecs and collar shifting beneath fabric that no longer fit right. His hoodie clung awkwardly now, riding high above his waist.
His neck thickened slightly. His jawline reshaped—roundness giving way to structure, his cheeks losing the last of their youthful softness. His nose sharpened, his brow settled into a calm, older frame.
A low vibration echoed through his throat. When he breathed, his voice caught.
He tried a single word:
“Hey.”
It was deeper. Fuller. It resonated inside him.
He walked to the mirror. His reflection wasn’t alien—but it was older. Taller. Confident. Controlled.
Nineteen.
He exhaled. “Yeah,” he muttered. “That’ll do.”
Then he turned back to the app—and tapped Allison.
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Allison — 7 to 1
Downstairs, Allison’s hands were shaking. She had just set the juice cup on the counter when the floor wobbled beneath her.
Her knees gave out—not from weakness, but from sudden disconnection. Like her body didn’t remember how to stand. She collapsed, palms hitting the tile with a thud.
Her vision blurred. The countertop above her started rising—or rather, she was shrinking. Her arms shortened, elbows folding into chubby curves. Her hoodie swallowed her arms whole as the fabric pooled around her.
She tried to stand, but her legs were changing too fast. Her thighs thickened into baby fat, her knees softened, and her feet shrank and curled inward, becoming pudgy, pink, and useless for standing.
She gasped—but her voice cracked in the middle. It came out high-pitched, panicked, and warbling. She opened her mouth to yell again, but her vocal cords were too short, her lungs too weak. It came out as a squeal.
“Luh—Luh—LUH—!” she tried to say his name, but her tongue wasn’t cooperating. Even her teeth were fading—her molars disappearing, replaced by soft gums.
Her arms flailed.
The sleeves of her hoodie were now a massive cocoon. Her hands, reduced to clumsy fists, punched out of the openings.
Her hair thinned and curled slightly. Her face puffed out—chubby cheeks forming, dimples reappearing, her jawline vanishing completely. Her nose shrank, her ears moved higher on her head.
She could no longer form words.
The world around her towered over her—cabinet doors became unscalable walls. The fridge buzzed overhead like a distant generator.
She fell backward with a helpless grunt.
A soft whimper escaped her lips.
She didn’t know what she was. Who she was.
She only knew she was small… and alone.
Then arms lifted her.
Big, warm arms. Gentle hands tucked beneath her arms and legs. She felt air rush past her, then warmth again—pressed to a broad chest.
Her head lolled, her neck too weak to support her oversized baby head. She nestled against the body holding her instinctively, her small fingers brushing fabric.
Lucas looked down at her.
She blinked up at him—wide, confused eyes locking with his.
She hiccuped. Then cooed.
He smiled.
“You’re safe now, Allie,” he said softly.
Her eyelids fluttered. Her limbs wiggled weakly.
She didn’t respond with words.
She didn’t have any.
Just a faint sound.