As Marcus placed his hands on Ganesha’s belly, a surge of warmth enveloped him, spreading from his fingertips and rushing through his body like a tidal wave. His breath hitched as his limbs tingled, the warmth sinking into his very bones.
A deep, resonant chuckle echoed in his mind.
You have chosen well, my boy. Now, embrace my essence.
Marcus gasped as his reflection in a nearby mirror began to change. His youthful, slim frame softened and widened, his belly rounding out with a fullness he had never known. His shoulders broadened, his arms thickened, and his face matured, subtle wrinkles forming around his eyes as a distinguished salt-and-pepper beard sprouted along his jawline. His once-short hair darkened at the roots before streaks of silver wove through it.
His clothes strained against his expanding form. His shirt, once loose, stretched tight over his burgeoning belly before the buttons gave way with small pops, leaving his midsection exposed. His jeans, once a snug fit, pressed uncomfortably against his thighs before the fabric surrendered to his increasing girth.
Despite the drastic changes, Marcus felt… right. Whole. Stronger than before, yet imbued with a strange sense of serenity. He looked down at his hands—no longer the hands of a young, struggling actor, but those of a seasoned man, an elder who carried wisdom in his flesh.
Hamood, the shopkeeper, watched with a knowing smile, puffing his cigar as the transformation settled. "Well, Ganesha," he mused, "you certainly chose a fine vessel."
Marcus took a deep breath, adjusting to the added weight of his new form. He was no longer just Marcus. He was something greater.
Ganesha’s voice rumbled in his mind.
Your journey begins now, my emissary.
Marcus exhaled, feeling a newfound sense of purpose settle over him. He was ready.