"You will grow from your present height to your new height of 6'2"..."
Just a Grandpa Jackson finished speaking his words again became reality with Allen somewhat painfully stretching up to a height more appropriate for a super-jock quarterback.
"... Now you have the height, but you're still a rail. You will gain 50lbs of pure muscle and your wimpy little biceps will grow to be 18" around."
Immediately Allen felt a huge weight added to his frame. His mind adjusted however and he knew this is the way things were supposed to be. His biceps burst clear through the confines of his ridiculously small shirt, but just as they did so his tattered shirt began to shift and change. Within a matter of seconds his impressive torso was clad in a blue and white football jersey. Allen witnessed the number "9" form across the front and the word "HAWKS" appear above it. An instantaneous connection was made within Allen's brain. The Hawks were HIS team. That’s who he was fighting for out there on the grid-iron. Allen's pants began to change next as Grandpa Jackson nodded in satisfaction. The now tiny pants exploded into a fresh pair of Under Armour trackies. He was being dressed up just like another jock on gameday. His ratty old shoes were last. They'd already been torn to pieces by Allen's now size 14 feet, but as he looked on they reformed into a pair of blue and white Nike Shox which he now remembered buying to match his jersey.
"I am one hot mother-fucker!" Allen said to himself, now enamored with his own appearance.
"Don't get ahead of yourself cowboy," said Grandpa Jackson, "We've still got more work to do..."