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Devotion by Arbitrary Point (~BBW, Magic, Romance, ~SWG)

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~BBW, Magic, Romance, ~SWG - Some times it takes a little magic to put life back into a relationship

Devotion
By Arbitrary Point

(Author’s Note:
This is heavily inspired by any number of motion pictures with snapshot parlays into time. Enjoy. Any feedback or story requests can be mailed to trivialitron@aol.com.)

(Editor’s Note: Unfortunately the “time parlays” in this tale ran afoul of our guidelines on minor protagonists. However, with a little editing this was overcome. We offer the revised version here for everyone’s enjoyment.)

Pete and Dottie loved each other very much. They met at the circus when they were both 7, then again a church picnics and other events, finally winding up becoming close in high school. They were friends, but never dated until after they both turned 18.

Soon afterwards they had their first kiss on his bed, under 70 watt bulb, just after listening to Olivia Tremor Control's “Black Foliage.” Four months passed, and they in present time are becoming more deeply involved.

“I love you so much,” Dottie says, with her arms clasped around Pete's waist. They were standing in her room with smells of oranges and incense, flannel sheets on her bed. She is a half foot shorter than Pete's six feet, and his hands are separate from each other, resting on each of her shoulder blades.

“And I love you,” retorts Pete, and now he's smiling. He is truly happy.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” she asks, smiling back.

Pete thinks. When he is thinking, he stands upright with a close but distant look in his eyes. He sometimes lets out barely audible sigh-groans, but now he remains silent. He is 155 lbs., slight, but in shape, with well-defined cheekbones. Short, messy brown hair; hazel eyes, small wire frame glasses.
Dottie is awaiting a response. She blinks a lot when doing so, with an almost glossy pair of eyes. She is 105 lbs., curvy, but gaunt, with an average bosom (34B) and butt (size 2), with well-defined cheekbones. Shoulder-length, straight auburn hair; brown eyes, contact lenses.

“I want you to gain weight,” he is answering, and does not flinch, though Dottie expects him to, wants him to. After three and a half seconds, he remains solid.

Images race through Dottie's subconscious, the snippets that frame the scripts of one’s life:

Age 3: A pink bedroom. White ponies made of plastic. A favorite doll, rsather pudgy that Mom wants to get rid of; it’s a wrong role model. An attentive mom, some would say controlling who says Raggedy Ann must go – and there aren’t any dolls from Mattel like her as a replacement.: “No, there aren't any fat Barbies. Barbie is supposed to be pretty.”

Age 9: Elementary school cafetorium. Pigtailed girls and ringleted girls. School chums. One is especially heavy – Mom doesn’t like her daughter being so close, the calories could rub off. “Dottie, why are you friends with chubby Irene?”

Age 15: Grandma's kitchen, preparing for a family style holiday dinner. She helps with the cooking, and has been indulging freely in the cookies that are contraband at home. Rather than killing her appetite it gets her juices flowing; at supper she has a large serving and goes for seconds. Dad says: “Cut down the eating, honey. You'll want a boyfriend.”

The messages are clear. Big is bad, eating is naughty.
Dottie is blinking furiously, blushes, and laughs under her breath.

“No,” she's beginning a discourse now. She pauses, looks around the sweet-smelling room for some sort of rational answer. Finding none, her eyes dart back to her beau, who she's in love with and wants to please, but must make certain exceptions for.

"I will do anything but change my body,” she replies.

She's looking down at her taut and lean physique. “I'm more than this.”

And because he loves her he doesn't raise the issue again.

Fast-forward ten years. Pete and Dottie, married for five years, still love each other, but sexual activity is waning and infrequent. Pete has a goatee, put on about five pounds from the post-college activity of the past several years, Dottie has lost three. Dottie works out just as much, if not more, than she did when she was in high school.

They don't say “I love you” nearly as much. Pete simply never liked thin girls, though he is loved and loves enough of his total relationship with Dottie to stay put.

Today, the love of his life is jogging on the beach. Look! She trips on the sand, stumbling over something gold and shiny. She brushes off sand, a lamp is unearthed. An apparition appears now, do you see it? It is an old man.

“Who are you?” Dottie asks. The man smiles a warm smile that reminds her of her father. His eyes are bluer than any sky she's ever seen.

“I am Ali Sheff Suprim, I am here to grant you one wish.”

“What, like Aladdin? Are you a genie?”

“Precisely!”

Dottie is remembering now, remembering the way Pete's eyes smiled with such fervor and enthusiasm all those years before, and how they are not the same now. She wants to give him something to love. She doesn't need to think any more about it.

“I want to make my husband love me and be totally happy with me.”

“Your wish is granted.”

She sees the genie disappear just like that. His magic does not seem real, though, to Dottie; she doesn’t see what is changing.

Startled by the encounter, to which Pete was not a party, she picks up the lamp, ignores the rest of her exercise regimen, and strolls dully home. On the way, she buys a foot-long hot dog and large chocolate milkshake from a vendor.

What has happened was overwhelming, She is suddenly thinking, Now I deserve a little treat. I'll work out tomorrow.

A gyro seems good to her right about now. Some cheese fries to wash it down. Still hungry, and bemoaning the fact that her house is loaded with health food, she steps into the foyer and sees her beau, despondent and sleeping on the couch.

“We need to do some shopping,” she is saying, and this is waking up Pete. His eyes dart immediately to her stomach, which is protruding ever so slightly out from her fitness shorts. He notices a glow about her, which makes him smile warmly.

Wow, Dottie is thinking as we listen to her, the genie was for real. I've not seen him smile like that in so long.

She is oblivious as to why.

“For what?” he asks, still beaming. If Dottie would look down, she'd notice an erection in his sweat pants.

“Food, real food.” She is on a roll, now, and she is convinced she is still eating healthy but making for an a radically unusual declaration. “I'm talkin' brownies, cheesecake, bacon, pizza. I don't want to see another vegetable or Garden burger for a long time.”

She is burping pretty loudly, and Pete is on his feet in two seconds and is giving her a hug. He has no idea as to what prompted this change, but he's not resisting a whit.

- - - - - - -

It's a year from that moment. Dottie is lying in bed. She is waiting to be fed a turkey dinner with a side of cranberry sauce, stuffing, and chocolate mousse. The platter is the size of a table.

She easts well these days - healthily, but in terms of nutrition, not in any way low calorie. Its what she enkos and her husband loves.

She is licking her lips. She is 185 lbs., voluptuous, fat, even, with a huge bosom (36DD) and butt (size 18), with a burgeoning double chin. She is laughing, and when she laughs, her face looks even fatter.

Pete is smiling, and it seems to her that each smile is better than the last.

Images are playing through his subconscious now:

He is 14 years old, and is at a church picnic. He sees the most beautiful girl. He approaches her.

“Hey,” he offers, “want my piece of pizza?”

“No,” she demurs. “My parents don’t want me eating that type of stuff.”
He smiles. That girl is now his wife – and she has finally become her own woman, making her own decisions.
 
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