Wish Taken Literally

Freddie’s Comic Coliseum was the go-to spot in town for pop culture enthusiasts. When Gordon wasn’t busy with school, he worked there, spending most of his paycheck on either testosterone or art supplies. Today, the shop was slow, and Gordon relished the quiet. Slow days meant more time to sketch, though, much like the trickle of customers, his inspiration was sluggish. His thoughts kept drifting back to the notebook tucked away in his backpack. I possess the power of a god, and yet I can’t think of what I want, he mused, frustrated. The possibilities were endless—he could conjure anything, change anything, whether it was himself or the world around him.

The soft chime of the door pulled Gordon from his thoughts. It wasn’t a customer, but his coworker, Janice. She was tall for a woman of Persian descent, with a gorgeous mane of raven-black hair and striking brown eyes. Although Gordon was mainly into men, he couldn’t deny there was something captivating about her exotic beauty. As usual, Janice slid behind the counter and immediately pulled out her phone, scrolling through social media. Gordon rolled his eyes. Why Freddie hired her, I’ll never know. She had zero interest in nerd culture. She couldn’t tell a lightsaber from a Starfleet uniform! He wanted to yell at his boss sometimes, but a single glance at Janice and he already knew why she’d been hired. Cis men, he sighed, one of the few moments where he was relieved not to have a penis.

A few hours passed with only a handful of customers trickling in. Gordon used the downtime to work on sketches and concept art. On days like this, he often drew his ideal self—or sometimes, when his imagination wandered, his fantasy lover. Today, though, he found himself sketching Drake, the guy from campus who’d left an impression after their strange encounter.

Everything about Drake was perfect—maybe too perfect. Gordon couldn’t stop daydreaming about what it would be like to date him. Like, OMG! Is that Drake, the dreamy tall guy from campus? The thought made him smirk. Drake was many things—caring, inquisitive, muscular—but Gordon couldn’t get over his height. That was, hands down, the most attractive part.

"Yeah, we talked earlier under the tree," Gordon imagined himself saying casually.

"Ooh! Did you make a move on him?" Janice's voice suddenly interrupted his daydream. "I didn’t think he was into short guys like you."

Short guys? Gordon smiled to himself, remembering his last wish. Janice had never used masculine pronouns for him before. Her chatter continued, mostly about her boyfriend and celebrity gossip, but Gordon was growing restless. I’ve got to get out of here before I snap, he thought, scanning the store for an excuse to move.

Just then, his phone buzzed with a reminder to take his medication. Heading to the bathroom, Gordon grabbed his backpack, retrieving the needle and vial of testosterone. The process was second nature by now—he prepped the exact dosage without even thinking. But as he readied the shot, he sighed, glancing at the dwindling supply. This stuff is getting so expensive. Rent’s due soon, too, he thought bitterly.

As he shifted to get more comfortable, his backpack tipped over with a loud thunk. Placing the needle down, he crouched to gather his scattered belongings. That’s when he saw the journal.

Maybe this is the solution, he thought, staring at the journal for a moment. He had thought about making this wish for a long time, and now the temptation was too strong to resist. Flipping to a blank page, he wrote: I wish to produce testosterone naturally.

As the ink settled on the page, it glowed bright blue, just like every other time he had used the journal. The moment the glow faded, an intense burning sensation shot through his lower abdomen and crotch. Gordon gritted his teeth, bracing himself against the stall wall as his muscles tensed. Instead of swelling, they became denser, tightening under his skin as his body re-formed itself. The transformation felt subtle yet significant; he felt a odd shift in his muscles as the magic's effects flowed through him.

When the sensation finally ebbed, Gordon exhaled, already noticing the changes. His voice—when he sighed—was deeper, almost startlingly so. Stepping out of the stall, he approached the mirror. His reflection looked... different. His body was more masculine—broader, firmer, more defined. He reached up, brushing his fingers across his jawline. There, just starting to show, was the beginning of a beard. He ran his hand over the stubble, surprised at how quickly everything had changed.

“Wow,” he muttered, his new, deeper voice still strange to his ears. Looking down at his more muscular frame, he couldn’t help but smile. “I actually look... good.” But as his gaze shifted lower, the smile faded. He still felt the familiar weight in his lower body and, looking at the flatness of his crotch in his pants, noticed the absence of a male bulge. Damn it, he thought, frowning. His wish to produce testosterone had been interpreted literally—his body was now producing it, but the physical transition hadn’t included everything he had hoped for.

Despite that disappointment, Gordon couldn’t deny he was happy with the progress. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a step closer to the body he wanted. One step at a time, he reminded himself.