by Wilson Barbers
Illustrated by "Mamet" (a.k.a. Vic Martin)
When Angie found the spell for the wish djinn, she knew right away what her wish was going to be.
She discovered it in a used bookstore, in the pages of a much-read paperback entitled Fast Majicke (publisher unidentified). She'd ducked into the store one wet spring lunchtime; waiting for the rain to slow, feeling uncomfortable under the gaze of a scholarly-looking bespectacled clerk, she slid down an aisle and found herself paging through this undoubtedly silly occult throwaway, seizing on the summoning of a creature that could supposedly grant you "your heart's desire."
She knew her heart's desire: it'd been a part of her since early adolescence, a steady yearning ever since she was young enough to start obsessing about the opposite sex. She bought the book, paying the over-watchful (but nice-looking) clerk; she put it in her purse and went back to work. She forgot about it until Friday.
Friday evening was dateless as usual, and she remembered the book as a means of avoiding her usual weekend activity: sitting on the couch in her apartment with the teevee on, mentally reviewing her physical shortcomings. She knew what her plusses and minuses were. She had an attractive enough face, with the kind of wide eyes that told too much of her uncertainties (and which a certain kind of man immediately recorded). Her legs were shapely and her hips, while maybe a little fuller than she'd ideally accept, were round and womanly. Where she fell flat, she knew all too well, was in the upper torso department.
"My heart's desire," she said to herself, imagining herself different, upfront and confident, with breasts that announced themselves. It was then she remembered the paperback in her purse and the spell in its pages. What the hell, she thought for the second time that day. The night was new, and she had nothing better to do. She'd try it.
She copied the diagrams from the book onto her kitchenette floor, read the incantations over three times to herself and then spoke them aloud. At first, nothing happened. Then the kitchenette lights flickered, and a naked and Rubenesque young woman was standing before her. "You buzzed?" the wish djinn said.
Angie was flabbergasted. This was just supposed to be a joke, wasn't it? "Uh, I guess I did," she stammered.
"Good," the plump spirit answered, stepping back to look Angie over. "One thing I've gotta get clear before you say anything further. I don't do vast amounts of money. So don't even ask. Can you live with that?"
"Sure," Angie answered. "I had a different wish, anyway."
"Lemme guess," the wish djinn said smiling, a pudgy finger in her tripled chins. Despite her sudden appearance and her nakedness, she didn't look all that magical. "It's got somp'n to do with your body." Angie nodded her head.
"Ever since I was young," she began, "I've felt self-conscious about my breasts. My older brothers used to give me all kinds of grief about them, and maybe that's why I've never felt all that good about myself. If I could have any one thing, I'd like a pair of magnificent breasts - "
The wish djinn nodded understandingly. "You want 'em - you've got 'em," she said matter-of-factly.
"That's it?"
"Hey, these things take a little time to work," the djinn replied. "You weren't going anywhere this weekend, were you?"
Angie shook her head.
"Then don't worry, hang loose, stick around and I can guarantee a pair of stupendulous hooters by the end of the weekend. Can you live with that?"
“I guess so - "
"I hope so, cause your wish is on its way to happening!" With that, the spirit vanished.
This is absurd, Angie thought, as she swept the chalk marks off her linoleum floor. She felt no different than she did before the spell and was beginning to wonder if this wasn't all some elaborate joke, after all. The best thing to do, she decided, was to forget it all and deal with dinner. She poked the dustpan into her kitchen Rubbermaid and went over to the fridge. What to eat? she wondered as she opened the door.
Waitaminute! she thought as she stared into her Frigidaire. Where did all this food come from? The fridge was packed with stuff Angie didn't remember buying: steak and cheeses and high calorie snacks that she'd always tried to avoid. What was all this?
She didn't know, but the steak sure looked good. Just looking at the piles of brightly packaged food seemed to have perked her appetite even further. What the hell, she thought - she'd cook the steak and ask questions later. Maybe do some baked potatoes and sour cream with butter. With some brocolli in cheese sauce. And some French bread to soak it up. And a nice draft of malt liquor. . .
And before she knew it (she could barely recall even cooking the meal, but she must have done it, right?), she was plowing into that divine meal, sitting in the living room with the stereo on and what seemed like a never-ending glass of beer by her side. When she finished her meal, she sat back down and snacked on bags of chips and French onion dip. Somehow a family-sized pizza wound up on her tray. And then there was that half-gallon of Breyer's ice cream with the jar of chocolate sauce on the side. Angie had never enjoyed herself more than she did that night, eating like there was no tomorrow, gorging herself on a seemingly endless supply of good food. She passed out on the couch at midnight, sated and happy.
Saturday passed the exact same way.
So did Sunday. Until she finished her dinner.
It was late, and for the first time all weekend Angie thought about her wish. She'd been so involved in dining that she barely remembered getting dressed. Yet she was in a dark blue negligee that she must have put on sometime that day. She floated into the bedroom to get a look at herself in the vanity mirror.
She got the shock of her life.
She was obese, huge. Her negligee strained against a body that was fully twice the size it had been Friday. Her belly was piled into double folds, hanging heavily and obscuring her crotch. Her upper arms were vast and spilled over her elbows. Her legs had swollen tremendously, her thighs pushing against each other and growing to hips that were easily the largest part of her body. Her breasts, well, they were great all right, resting on her belly, spilling off to both sides. Angie pulled a tape measure out of the vanity drawer: her breasts were up to 45, she saw, but her waist and hips clocked in at 43 and 50, respectively. What kind of a cruel trick was this?
"No trick," a voice behind her said. Angie turned, full body jiggling, to see the wish djinn in the living room. "You wanted great breasts. With your body type, the only way you could get 'em was like this - "
"But," Angie said near the point of tears, "who'd want to go out with me like this?" She waddled angrily up to the wish djinn.
"Plenty of men," the spirit answered. "Your trouble has never really been body size, it's been lack of self-confidence. That's been your true heart's desire: you lack and want self-confidence. I heard that wish even if you didn't speak it out loud. That's why I'm here now. I'm gonna give you some. Right now - " She pointed a pudgy finger at Angie, made a pistol cocking gesture, and fired. "There," she said.
"What?"
"Feel different yet?" the wish djinn asked.
As a matter of fact she did. Angie turned back to look at herself in the mirror, at the fat beauty in the reflection. There was plenty there to turn the right man on, she saw now. Plenty of soft womanliness spilling out on all sides. Deep cleavage. Mountainous hips with thighs that cried to be explored. She looked pretty damn good, she thought.
"I took the liberty of starting your new wardrobe," the wish djinn said. "No more bland, hideaway clothes, but things that reflect the new you." She indicated the bedroom closet, and Angie saw it was filled with new items.
"Maybe I could try on something now?" she thought out loud.
"Sure," the wish djinn said. "The night's still newish. Wanna go out for a pizza?"
"Maybe," Angie said, trying on a skirt and taking note of the way it showed off her round calves. "I could do with an evening snack: I'm a growing girl."
"And maybe you'll catch the eye of some fat admirer at the restaurant," the spirit added. She'd waved an attractive lightweight dress onto her body. "I've dated quite a few myself, you know," the spirit said with a giggle. You couldn't ask for a more attentive man - "
Angie came out of the room with her new outfit hugging her expansive body, her belly leading the way. She felt better about herself than she could ever remember feeling. Tonight was going to be okay, she thought.
But one thing was bothering her. Before they entered the restaurant, she had to ask the wish djinn this question: "If you knew what my real heart's desire was, why bother with changing my body like this?" She indicated her huge frame with her flabby arms. "Not that I'm complaining," she added.
"The world could use more confident fat girls," the spirit answered. "Did it ever occur to you that I may've been working on more than one heart's desire here?" She pointed through the glass door of the restaurant. There, with a longing look in his eyes, at a table by the entrance, sat the young bookstore clerk.
Corrected version copyright (c) 2000 - Oakhaus Designs
