Maryanne’s Wish

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    Mark Newman

    This is a quick story I did for a reader with a wish.

    Maryanne’s Wish

    by Marknew


    Maryanne sat in her room in her t-shirt and panties, looking at the mirror, brushing her long, reddish-brown hair. She was thinking about her day, about how much work she’d done, about how much more she had to do. She’d spent too much time in the library this week. It wasn’t good for her. She needed more exercise, more fresh air, more time with her friends and more time with — sigh — Michael.

    But that wasn’t going to happen. Nothing she did seemed to get his attention. She knew exactly the kind of woman who caught his eye. Shorter, bustier, perkier, "cuter". Arrgghhh! It made her so angry just to think about it. She and Michael were so perfect for each other. Maybe she wasn’t a "D" cup. So what! She was healthy, strong ("for a girl"), she knew her way around a man’s body and her own. She could make him happy. She could make him feel good. VERY good. If only he’d let her.

    She could feel herself getting upset. A walk would be nice, but not in the rain. April in England! She needed some other distraction. She lit a scented candle and flipped open her laptop. Ahhh, Marknew had finally posted the last part of Wednesday in his "Pendant Changes" story. She read eagerly. She would LOVE to get her hands on that pendant! There were so many things she would change … if she had just HALF the chance. Michelle was such a nitwit! She doesn’t deserve to have it. Except that Martin would be worse for sure. He’d just put everything back the way it was. Reality was boring enough to have such a delightful fantasy undone! Now, Celia would make things exciting. But mostly for Celia.

    She read on and started laughing. Cindy! Cindy got the power!? She didn’t particularly like Cindy. She was kind of … an oaf. But what a cool thing it would be to have that power inside her. Completely safe and completely under her own control. No one could interfere. Oh, that would be the best! She read through the paragraphs on Cindy’s wishes again and again. Getting rid of her mother! Making her muscles grow even faster. And making Joe irresistibly attracted to her muscles! Perfect! That’s what she wanted. Michael wouldn’t have a chance! One way or the other, she’d make him love her. Her imagination ran riot.

    Meanwhile, there was another flash of lightning. The rain was coming down harder and the lights were flickering. The rain was pouring in. Without thinking she reached up to close the window just as another flash of lightning hit. She felt an odd tingle as an arc went through the metal frame, the lamp, her computer and blew everything out. Oh, NO!! It looked like all the power in the area was off. She had final drafts of TWO papers and all her notes on that computer. If the hard drive was fried that would mean days of extra work! She tried the "on" switch, but the machine was completely dead. Arrrggghhh! She closed her eyes. She SHOULD be thankful she wasn’t hurt. But all that work!!! This was the LAST thing she needed.

    The lights in the hall flickered again and went back on and so did the lamp. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe it was just the battery that was fried. Maybe with the mains back on her computer would come back to life. Oh, she wished it were so! She cautiously pushed the button. It worked!!! She checked her notes, her drafts. Still there! She quickly copied them to a USB key for a back-up. Not to let lightning strike twice in one evening! What a relief. She briefly felt euphoric. But the truth was, she was just back where she’d started. She STILL had tons of work. She STILL didn’t have Michael.

    Ha! Now if she were Cindy, she wouldn’t stop at wishing that her computer worked. No. She’d wish that the papers were all done. Typed, proofed, bound, sitting on her desk, ready to go. Good for Honours. HIGH honours. Why not. She closed her eyes. Suddenly her heart skipped a beat. She opened her eyes again and looked in the mirror. Why were her eyes green?!! Her eyes had always been brown. Like Cindy’s. She looked again, moving the lamp to see better. They WERE green. Bright green. She closed her eyes and opened them. Still green. She closed her eyes. I wish my papers were done. Typed, bound, high honours papers, sitting on her bed. She heard a slight creak and opened her eyes and slowly turned around.

    They were there.



    Maryanne looked down at her hands. Her ordinary hands. She looked at herself in the mirror. Maybe she was not ordinary. Not anymore. She felt her chest. She knew what Michael wanted. She wished she had "D" cup breasts to die for — round, firm, uplifted, with smooth pink skin and hard, round nipples — and watched with amazement as new mega-breasts pushed her shirt outwards. She lifted her shirt and looked. Oh god! What would Michael say when he saw her with those! What else could she do! She could do anything! She could shrink herself down to 5’3". Trim her eyebrows. Thicken her hair. Narrow her waist. She could even change her voice.

    No! That wasn’t what she wanted. Sure she could do anything now. She could make herself into Michael’s dream girl, his ideal.

    But that wouldn’t be her! She knew what she wanted to be like. AND she wanted Michael. He would have to be the one to change for her, not her for him! After she became the self SHE’D always dreamed of. Yes, she would become the woman she dreamed she could be she would be irresistible to him. Michael would want her, need her. He would HAVE to. He wouldn’t be able to live without her. No one would.

    She wished her breasts back to normal. And then she stood up. She wanted to him to watch it happen. She wanted them all to see her, to see her power, to KNOW her power.

    Hee hee! Tomorrow would be a great day!

    Her schoolwork done, she got herself ready for bed. She lay down on her pillow, planning and plotting. Her mind was filled with thoughts. She’d never get to sleep. She smiled. She wished she didn’t need sleep. And then she wished it was tomorrow morning already. And then … it WAS tomorrow.


    Another grey day. Drizzle, a cool wind. The low clouds streaming past. Maryanne groaned. And then she decided to do something about it. The clouds thinned, the sun shone through more and more brightly until the sky was clear and blue. Fifteen degrees would make a good start, warming to twenty. Perfect. For once, Maryanne knew exactly what to wear. She knew it wouldn’t rain.

    She had an hour’s break between her first and second classes when she usually met her best friend, Claire. They’d meet for coffee and talk, while watching the other students swirl around them. Claire was waiting when she got there. They hugged and stood on line for their usual skinny lattes then sat outside on a bench.

    "YOU sure look bright today!" Claire said. She had her coat open in the warm sun and breathed in the steam from her coffee.

    "Oh, yeah! Today’s going to be special." Maryanne stretched out in the sun. "It feels so good."

    Claire closed her eyes and let the rays drench her face. "Mmmmm! Maybe it’s the sun. But I feel it too." Her brow furrowed and she kept her eyes closed. "Uh oh. Don’t tell me. Am I hearing who I think I hear?"

    Maryanne opened her eyes. "Yes, the very one."

    "Ugh!" Claire opened her eyes too and turned her head to look at Rhianna. She was perfectly turned out as usually. Her lustrous, raven hair glistened in the sun, and even in the early Spring temperatures she wore light slacks and a purple top that left her slender, toned abdomen bare and her incredible bosom well-exposed. "How does she do it?" Claire groaned. "She’s eating two chocolate muffins and a frappicino topped with whipped cream and her waist must as small as my twelve year old cousin’s! I hate her so much!" Rhianna turned slightly toward Claire and Maryanne and tossed her head back and laughed, showing a bit more of her bosom as it shook slightly within her top. "Look who she’s with! Isn’t that Michael?"

    Maryanne stared. It was! Rhianna put her hand on Michael’s shoulder and gently pulled him down to whisper something in his ear. Michael complied, all the while staring deeply into Rhianna’s generous cleavage, which the shameless hussy did nothing to hide. Rhianna looked over at the two girls again and then so did Michael, who laughed. Maryanne turned bright red.

    "It’s so unfair. Look at what she’s eating. And just LOOK at her!" Claire said enviously, then covered her mouth. "Oh I’m so sorry, Maryanne." Claire said sympathetically. "Don’t let her ruin the day!"

    "I won’t." Maryanne said, her eyes narrowing. Silently, she wished that what Rhianna was eating would add as much fat as five hundred times as many muffins and drinks normally would. "I’m sure she’ll get what she deserves, eventually."

    "Ohmygod!" Claire said. "Look at her!" Maryanne turned casually, in time to see Rhianna’s stomach begin to stretch outward, pouring over the waistband of her slacks while rolls of fat appeared around the sides of her chest. Her well-toned arm muscles disappeared under blobs of jellied flesh. Then her top burst, letting her increasingly sagging breasts flop down. They spread out wider and wider and drooped all the way down to her navel. Meanwhile her face became rounder, her cheeks puffing out while her chin became a double and then a triple chin. She screamed and grabbed on to Michael for support, but instead knocked him over and fell on top of him. He got off and she struggled to stand, trying to hold on to him. Everyone was staring at her now. She was still getting fatter. Now her trousers split, her formerly perfect butt now two huge jiggly spheres pushing out of her trousers, her panties disappearing inside her ever receding crack. Michael backed off, perhaps afraid that whatever Rhianna had was contagious. Realizing her repulsive body was completely unclothed, she looked around frantically for a place to hide and started running toward one of the school buildings, but her fat legs could hardly carry her weight and she could move only very slowly, swaying side to side, each step producing new waves of movement in the blubber around her body.

    Everyone was pointing at Rhianna. Maryanne was laughing as hard as anyone, and Claire joined in. "Look! No one’s helping her," Maryanne said. "She didn’t have any real friends after all!"

    "Kind of sad," Claire said, unable to stop laughing. "I wish everyone could see this!"

    "Yeah," said Maryanne, "I wish so too!"

    Just then, a student standing between them and Rhianna let out a whoop of joy. "Got it!" he cried, waving his video camera in the air. "This’ll be the hottest download on the ‘net since the ‘dancing baby’!" He ran off.

    "Wow!" Claire said. "And who said wishes don’t come true!" she said, putting her arm around Maryanne’s shoulders. "Hey, look at Michael. He’s still shaking."

    "I know. He’s not eating any more of his muffin either. Look at the way he keeps touching himself, like he’s afraid he’s going to get fat too!"

    Claire nodded. "I can’t believe the way he was fawning over her. I mean, how shallow can a guy be!"

    "Pretty shallow I guess. Not like us!"

    "Ha! Girls rule!" Claire put her fist in the air. "Except when it comes to getting the guys we like to go out with us."

    "Oh, I think by the end of the day he’ll be desperate to go out with me."

    Claire looked at her with curiosity. "Oh really? I never heard you talk like that before."

    "Yup. He’s going to see me in a new light. Guys are going to look at you differently too."

    "Wow! Sounds great!" Claire said, wanting to support her friend but privately thinking she’d gone completely mad.

    Maryanne looked at him intently. "Yes, by the end of the day he’ll forget he ever liked someone like Rhianna. In fact, I myself really can’t believe he thought he liked her."

    "Oh sure, Maryanne. What kind of guy likes a girl who’s 5’4", has perfect hair and skin, a tiny waist, an ass to die for and, not to mention, large firm breasts that she LOVES to show off?"

    "LOVED," said Maryanne, correcting her with a triumphant smirk.

    "Whatever. She still has more than I have. And it’s not just her." Claire looked down at her own meager endowment and sighed. "I just don’t get what guys find so interesting about breasts!" she said glumly. "And they think WE’RE illogical! They should be attracted to us for good reasons, for things that are useful. Like our brains, our character, our values."

    "That would be a change!"

    "Tell me about it."

    "Guys are so selfish. They think they’re so complete, so perfect, like they don’t need anything important. They treat us like an ornament. How we make them look, you know, their trophies. They like us for what we can do for them. How we make them feel. And to have their children."

    "Well, we do that!"

    "What if they didn’t feel so complete? What if they saw us as the powerful ones? If they felt kind of … helpless without us? What if they needed us?"

    Claire shrugged. "I don’t want to be some guy’s mommy!"

    "That’s not what I mean. I was just thinking that if we were stronger and more capable they might be attracted to a woman for what she could do, instead of how she looks."

    "It’s fun to think about. But my guess is they like girls who are weaker than they are, so they can feel powerful. It feeds their ego."

    "Maybe. Maybe a girl would have to be famous too and special. I don’t think guys would throw a supermodel out of bed, even if she beat him in armwrestling."

    "Oh Maryanne! Of course they wouldn’t!"

    Maryanne looked down at her watch. "Hmmm. I have to go. Class!"

    "Already? I was sure we just started. Oh well. See you for lunch?"

    "Wouldn’t miss it for the world!"


    Maryanne sat in her 17th Century British History class, looking at each boy in turn. They were so crude, so simple, so undeserving. Why should THEY be the strong ones? What gave THEM the right to carry their books so easily, to excel in sports, to be able to push girls around if they wanted to? She didn’t want to change the whole world. But those smug assholes she knew, stupidly, wrongly confident in their own superiority. She’d love to put them in their place. Or, really, in a new place.

    And now she could.

    There was Simon. Mr. Rugby. Mr. Asshole. And John, Mr. Hotshot tennis player. And then there was Peter and Josh, the bodybuilder twins. She’d catch up with them afterwards. And then there will be Michael, not a jock, but STILL cocky. Michael wasn’t in the class, but she knew where she’d find him later.

    They all thought they were superior to her. Well, not for long. Maryanne would put them in their places. Last place. And they’d know it too although no one else would. Everyone would think Simon — and the others after Maryanne did them too — were crazy. Only they would know what they’d lost. And she’d know, of course, and she and Claire would each benefit. 50-50.

    Simon would be first. He was the worst. AND, he was the most "appropriately" dressed in his tight short sleeve shirt. So she could watch it all.

    She just hoped Claire wouldn’t be TOO freaked out. No, hoping wasn’t enough. She WISHED Claire would stay calm about it. She could tell Claire everything … but not this. Having this wishing power was something she felt she needed to keep private.

    Now she was ready. She closed her eyes and made her wish. That over the next ten minutes Simon would become as athletic, as fit and as muscular as Claire was six years ago, when she was 13, that all his lost abilities would be split equally between Claire and herself, that after it was done, for everyone except Simon, Claire and her, Simon would always have been this way, so that his whole life story, his emotions, his personality and his view of the opposite sex would be rewritten in line with his new — ha ha — physique. And finally, that all their clothes would resize themselves as his body shrank and Claire and hers grew.

    She sat back and looked right at Simon, taking note, for the last time, of his square shoulders, his broad chest and his bulging biceps. She thought she could see a tiny movement in the lines of his arms. She looked down at her own body. Sure enough, her arms were slowly swelling, her legs becoming firmer, her chest broader, her stomach tighter. She felt her thighs. They’d always been pretty good. Now, even after just four minutes they were really firm and thick. And look at Simon! He was completely average now. But she wasn’t. She moved her hand up to her biceps. Wow. She tightened them a little and felt the new ball of muscle. Nice! And just holding her hand there she could feel it continuing to grow and harden. Whoops! Simon was noticing something. He was clutching his chest and his arms.

    "Mr Barnes. Is something wrong?" the professor asked impatiently.

    Simon was frantically squeezing his biceps. "I … my muscles! What’s happening to them!"

    There was a giggle in the class. "What muscles, Barnes?" John the tennis player snorted. The rest of the class laughed. Six minutes had passed, and now John was less than average, and getting smaller all the time. "He acts like he has fleas," John said, his nose in the air.

    "Shut up, John!" Simon said angrily. Ignoring the fact he was in class, and his lack of muscle, he stood up to challenge John with all the confidence a rugby player would normally have in the situation. John rolled his eyes, stood up, put his hand on Simon’s bony shoulder and easily shoved him back down into his seat. Simon’s mouth dropped open. "My god! I’m a weakling!" he said, looking at his now thin legs and arms, his narrow chest and his little potbellied stomach.

    The whole class laughed. Therese Barbeaux said, "This is somezing you did not yet know?" in her inimitable accented English. The class roared more loudly.

    "This isn’t funny!" Simon protested. It was now nearly nine minutes into the wish.

    "Oh, but it is!" John said.

    Simon looked around at his mocking classmates, then turned his eyes to Maryanne. "And look at her!" He stared at her, suddenly noticing her enlarged muscles, perhaps even watching them grow. "Can’t you see? She’s stealing my muscles!"

    The professor looked long and hard at Simon. "I will assume for your sake that you have just come down with a high fever and delirium. If you leave class now and go right to bed I will overlook today’s appalling behavior."

    "Maryanne stealing YOUR muscles? I can’t imagine why she’d bother! That would be just too cruel!" John burst out laughing.

    Simon ran up to Maryanne. "Give them back!" he cried, grasping her biceps.

    Maryanne flexed, enjoying the powerful expansion of her muscle, the way it stretched her top and forced Simon’s hand open. "You’re just jealous, Simon," she said. "You just WISH you could have my muscle and be as strong as I am! But although I feel sorry for you, I still don’t like you to touch me." She took both Simon’s formerly powerful arms in her hand and held them away from her. "Now go away, before I get mad!" She gave him a little push and he fell down.

    He stood up unsteadily and backed away. "Something weird’s happening, and I’m going to find out what!" he threatened and ran from the room.

    The professor cleared his throat. "Very odd behavior. Well, unfortunately our time is up. Well have to catch up on Wednesday. Dismissed."

    Now it was John’s turn. He had been very funny with Simon, and she could almost forgive him for doing so much to put him down. But he’d done the same to her when once she had dared to ask him a question about tennis. And he was such a great athlete. Not as strong as John, and certainly not as muscular as David. But he had a natural grace and sense of timing, a coordination she had always envied. She would have to be quick though. She made the same wish as with Simon, but this time it would have to happen in two minutes. Starting now.

    She stood up, packing her books, knowing she was in John’s way, slowing him down. He was carrying several large books.

    "Excuse me, Maryanne. I’ve got another class in five minutes across the quad." She looked at him, surprised that he now knew her name. He hadn’t before she had changed John and herself.

    "Just a minute," she said, picking up her purse and putting it on her shoulder, noticing how much broader it was already. Her forearm was swelling with muscle too, especially her left one, his tennis arm.

    "Ugh, what’s happening to me!" His arm was shaking, less able to hold his books. As they were about to slip out, they moved suddenly into a backpack. "Hey, did you see that?"

    "What, John? See what?"

    "My books! I have a backpack on! And you! Simon was right!" Ninety seconds had passed.

    "Not anozer one!" Therese said, watching from across the room.

    Maryanne’s arms were becoming truly spectacular, having added half the muscles of two jocks to her own quite respectable arms. "Of course you do, John. How else would someone like you be able to get your books from one class to another!"

    "Who are you, Rogue?" John said angrily, grabbing at Maryanne’s melon-sized biceps.

    "Ze little boys, zey jus love your muscles, Maryanne," Therese said.

    "I know," Maryanne agreed, the second transfer now done. "They always want what they can’t have!"

    "So true!"

    Maryanne put her hand on John’s belt and easily lifted him into the air. "No, I’m not a Rogue, John. I’m Maryanne."

    "Be careful Rojer zat she does not decide to use you for a tennis boll. You would not survive her serve!"

    "HER serve! Since when did she even PLAY tennis? I’m the ranking player here!" John protested. "And put me down!"

    Therese laughed musically. "You Rojer? Zese boys! Zey have so much fantasy! You really are zair inspiration. So long, Maryanne!" Therese sang.

    Maryanne put him down. "Better run, John. You will miss your class!" She watched John stumble off, robbed of his coordination, while Maryanne enjoyed a new spring in her step. Despite the added bulk of her new muscle, she felt lighter on her feet than ever. And it was a good thing, because she wanted to hurry to meet Claire.

    "Omygod! You too!" she squealed. "I could control myself in class but —

    Maryanne put her hand on Claire’s mouth. "Ssshh! I can’t explain. Not really. But tell me, do you like it?"

    "I LOVE it! I feel so powerful. Just LOOK at these arms, and legs! And I have an actual six-pack!" She took Maryanne’s hand and placed it on her abdomen. "You feel it?"

    "Sure do! And we can get even bigger, but not yet. Right now we have to do something else." She pulled her along to the cafeteria and they stood near the table with the "popular" girls, who ignored them for a few minutes, then began talking about them as if they couldn’t hear.

    "Look, it’s the muscle twins."

    "What do THEY want?"

    "Go pump some iron, girls." Then, more quietly but not so quietly Maryanne and Claire couldn’t hear. "That Claire should go try to pump up her bust instead."

    Claire was feeling embarrassed. "What are we doing here? Everybody already thinks I’m such a jock! Standing near these girls just makes me self-conscious."

    "Sssshhh! You are a jock, but it’s gonna get even better. Just wait a minute. We have to stand right here," Maryanne said, not telling the whole truth. "We’re going to make them sorry they ever teased us. Now, close your eyes and repeat the words, ‘double dee’ quietly."

    "Huh? Oh!" Claire looked down at her broad but still very flat chest. "Sure. Double dee. Double dee. Double dee. Double DEE."

    Maryanne joined in. "Double dee. Double dee. Double dee." As she chanted, she wished that her breasts and Claire’s would start taking breast tissue from the girls at the table, growing until they each had forty-four inch double dee breasts, plus enough pectoral muscle to make them as "perky" as Rhianna’s breasts used to be, plus suitably altered tops. And, that ever since they were just thirteen, everyone would have always known of Maryanne and Claire as the ‘stacked pair’. But this time their victims wouldn’t know what they’d lost. Maryanne couldn’t wait to see how the old pictures of her and her friend would have changed.

    "Double dee. Double dee." Claire opened her eyes and sneaked a peak at her growing chest. "Oh look Maryanne! Look at them. Look at us! It worked!"

    The formerly popular girls now were huddled together, talking in quiet whispers so as not to attract attention. They sat hunched over, their arms covering their chests which were nearly flat. They looked up enviously at the girls everyone knew as the ‘stacked pair’ — stacked with breasts that drove the guys insane with desire and enough muscle to hold most of them in check. In fact, everyone in the lunch room was staring at them, with admiration, desire, jealousy and a little bit of fear. And talking about them.

    "What are they doing here?"

    "What do they WANT?"

    "Who are they looking for?"

    "Should we invite them to our table?"

    "Are you crazy? WAIT to see what they want. Then, RUN to do it!"

    "God! I’m going to cum in my pants!"

    "They are SO amazing!"

    Maryanne put her arm on Claire’s and pulled her toward to the door.

    "Maryanne! Listen to what they’re saying about us. We’re popular!"

    "Killer popular. We’re everybody’s dream!"

    "Look at my clothes! They’re so much nicer!"

    "I suppose since we have the bodies, someone is making sure we show it off in the right clothes."

    "Maybe we’re models."

    "Or we have endorsement deals." Maryanne fished around in her purse. "Look. I have four platinum cards. And two agents, one for tennis and one for modeling. And a pro tennis card too!"

    "Me too. And a financial advisor. You SAID this was going to be a great day. Did you know all this was going to happen?"

    "Not exactly."

    "Tell me!"

    "I can’t. But it’s not finished yet. We’ve got more to do tonight."

    "More? What else could we get?"

    "We can get stronger and bigger."

    "Bigger than this? Why?"

    "So we’re completely superior to everyone. We can do it."

    "But things are so good now."

    "They can be even better. We can be like gods! And put some more assholes in their place."


    "I mean it! Come on! Are you with me on this?"

    Claire looked through her purse, fingering her platinum VISA card. "We COULD just go shopping."


    "OK. This IS a once in a lifetime opportunity."

    "Not even."

    "Like gods? Really?"

    "You’ll see. Meet me at 6. At David Lloyd’s. Just before it closes."


    "Ha! OK. Now, one more stop before the spell wears off." Maryanne had easily negotiated a complimentary pass to the club in exchange for a few pictures of them using the exercise equipment and they were now in the nearly deserted weight room. Peter and Josh were nearly done with their work on the machines. They were both well over six feet tall and heavily muscled. They elbowed each other and pointed at Maryanne and Claire, making signs with their fingers to describe the girls’ well-developed bodies and what they would like to do to them.

    After letting them go on for awhile, Maryanne said, "What’s the matter, never seen girls with muscles before?" acting unusually challenging.

    "We weren’t looking at your muscles, girlie," Peter said snidely. "What are you doing here anyway? Don’t you have your own ‘personal trainers’ to keep you ‘toned’."

    "We’re here to work out," Maryanne said hotly. "We have muscles too, you know." She flexed her arm and let him see what looked to her like a very impressive bicep.

    "Oh, look at the little show off." Josh flexed his much bigger biceps. "Well, what do you know! I win!"

    Peter laughed and pinched his hard pectorals. "Now, if you show us your tits, girls, you can win THAT competition easily!" He took a step toward them. "You may think you’re hot stuff, but we’re not impressed with your kind hanging out here. Not at all. You’re all show. This is for serious lifters."

    "Maryanne!" Claire said quietly. "What are we doing here? I don’t like this!"

    "You’ll see," she said back in a whisper, then in her regular voice, "We could beat you guys in ANY competition. Except who’s the biggest dick." Claire started edging toward the door, but Maryanne grabbed her. "Trust me." Claire looked at her dubiously but stayed.

    "OK then. I’ll armwrestle HER," Peter said, "and if I win, she has to do whatever I say! WhatEVER!"


    "Do it, Claire! Just don’t give up. Believe me, you won’t regret it."

    "She sure won’t. And then you’re next big mouth," Josh said, grinning.

    "Promise?" Maryanne said, her hands on her hips, thrusting out her huge bust.

    "It’s a promise!" he replied.

    Peter sat down at a table and flexed his biceps. Claire looked at them with dismay. "Awww, does my big muscle frighten the little girl? You girls think you’re so special because you’ve got big tits and can beat the other girls at your little powder puff sports games. I think it’s time you saw a little REAL muscle in action!" He held out his big hand for her to grasp. Reluctantly she took it. Peter squeezed and Claire’s face contorted in pain.


    "Just start the match," Maryanne replied. "One, two, three, go!"

    Claire started pushing. Her bicep pulsed and expanded and Peter’s responded in turn to her pressure, but not nearly as much as his original flex. He clearly had a lot in reserve, and while Claire was pushing him with all her strength, he wasn’t budging an inch.

    "Come on, little girl. I’m waiting!" he said.

    "Maryanne, my arm’s hurting," Claire said.

    "Don’t give up," Maryanne said, watching them carefully. Claire’s arm was shaking. Peter was starting to move her off center. She wished now that, like a throttle controlling the power of an engine, the more they moved off center, the more his muscle would go to Claire, stopping only when he was as strong as Claire was at twelve. No! At eleven. And again, for everyone except Claire, Maryanne and, of course, Peter, once the transfer was complete it would be as if it had always been that way.

    Immediately Claire’s muscle began to expand and Peter’s to deflate. Puzzled by her sudden increased resistance he put more of his power into play and succeeded in moving her another inch downwards. But that only increased the transfer. He tried harder again, wanting now to end this immediately and get his reward, so he put in all the strength he had and pushed her hand down two inches above the table.

    This simply opened the floodgates. Claire’s arm was swelling with muscle now, her strength increasing rapidly while his was ebbing. Even though he had gravity working with him, he couldn’t move her arm down further at all. Claire had been nearly ready to give up, despite what her best friend had told her, when suddenly the pressure on her arm seemed to cease. Her attention, which had narrowed to their two hands, suddenly expanded to see their arms, and then their whole bodies. Why, Peter’s arm was rapidly shrinking. It was slender now, like a girl’s arm, while hers was packed with more muscle than she had ever imagined. His whole body was getting slender and boyish. She slowly moved their arms upward, without feeling any resistance, while Peter frantically tried to stop her. But he could do nothing and Claire moved him over the top and then slammed his hand down. As their hands reached the table, the rest of his strength flowed into Claire, leaving him with the musculature of a very thin eleven year old girl.

    "I won!" she said, amazed. "I won, and look at me!" Her chest was like a Shearman tank, her breasts pointing outward like two gun turrets. "HA!" she said, energized and proud.

    "What’s happened to me?" Peter moaned. "What have you done to me?"

    "What did you THINK was going to happen, idiot!" Josh said scornfully. "As IF a little weakling like you could beat Claire Hartman in armwrestling. Imagine, you beating the strongest woman in the world. You couldn’t even beat a little girl! You never have. I don’t know why I even let you hang around me, except that you’re good for laughs. And getting me my water."

    "What are you talking about, Josh? I’ve always been as big as you. We’ve been training together for years!" Peter protested.

    "I knew this was a bad idea. He’s being delusional again."

    "What’s going on, Maryanne?" Claire asked in a whisper. "Doesn’t Josh know —

    "Ssshh. No. He thinks you and Peter have always been like this. Just like everyone else in school."

    "Oh, yeah!" she whispered back. "So, Josh doesn’t know that when you and he —


    "All right. All right. Now it’s time to even things up." Josh said arrogantly.

    "Josh, don’t! Maybe the same thing will happen to you," Peter said. "What if you lose all your strength!"

    "You wish! At least I’ll do SOMETHING for the male honor. And while you’re being Claire’s slave, I’ll get to enjoy what Maryanne has to give me. Heh, heh."

    "No! She’ll take away your muscles!"

    Josh rolled his eyes. "You ready, sweetiecakes? I’m not going to be easy on you."

    Maryanne made the same wish as before, except that this time it would apply to her. She could hardly contain her excitement. Josh was even bigger than Peter had been. "All ready." She gripped his hand, wincing when he squeezed hers. "Owww!"

    "Heh, heh. It’s just beginning, tootsie. Call it, Peter."

    "OK. One, two, three, go!"

    Maryanne started pushing. Just as Peter had, Josh let her strain against his immobile hand to let her tire herself out. "Let’s go, sugar. I don’t have all night."

    Maryanne grit her teeth. "Then … start … already!" She grunted. "Give … me … all … you … GOT!!"

    "You asked for it."

    Maryanne braced herself for the onslaught. He pushed her hard, almost driving her all the way to the table, but at that position, the full transfer was almost immediate.

    "Huh?" Josh said, aware that suddenly his gargantuan bicep, which he had developed over seven years of daily work, was no longer bulging out of his arm, and that Maryanne’s body was now packed with block upon block of muscle. His opponent was now much stronger than he had ever been.

    "I told you she’d just be playing with you, Josh!" Peter said in his reedy voice.

    "You said — but how — shut up! I’m getting out of here!" He tried to stand up but Maryanne tightened her grip. "Owww! You’re breaking my hand."

    "Finish the match," she growled. She brought their hands up to the mid-point, temporarily stopping the transfer. Now SHE could play with him. Already he had hardly any noticeable biceps even while straining as hard as he could, while hers, completely relaxed, looked like she’d stuffed two tennis balls into her arm. She flexed a couple of times, watching the muscle jump. "You were saying something about my muscles being just for show? Why don’t you show me then what YOURS can do? Hmmm?" she teased and smiled at him serenely. Claire was giggling.

    "I’ll show you!" he roared and pushed with all his strength. Maryanne let him move her hand slightly, just to start the transfer again. She pumped up her muscle so that she could watch it expand while Josh’s continued to shrink. "Look!" he cried. "Look what’s happening!" he said to Peter.

    "Yeah, she’s beating you, Josh. What’s the big surprise?" Peter said, bored.

    "Can’t you see it? She’s draining the muscle right out of me! I look like a girl now!"

    "Um, Josh, Maryanne and Claire, they’re the girls. You know, the ones with tits, remember? You don’t look anything like a girl. Except that you don’t have any muscle. Just like me now." Peter flexed his soft arm. "See? I used to be strong but now I’m just as weak as you’ve always been, and Claire’s got my strength."

    "No, no. She’s ALWAYS been strong and YOU’VE always been weak! I used to be strong and Maryanne –"

    "– has always been strong." Peter shook his head and looked at Maryanne. "He’s crazy!"

    Claire giggled. "I think you can end this now, Maryanne."

    "Yeah." She slammed Josh’s hand on the table, taking the rest of his strength. She stood up. "Thanks for the match, Josh. I hope it was as good for you as it was for me. And now it’s time for our prize."

    Peter and Josh looked at the girls with trepidation, while Claire waited in suspense. "Um, Maryanne, I don’t think they have anything left to give us," she said tentatively.

    "Oh yes they do. We’re super-muscular now, but with THIS much muscle, we should be taller. So, guys, we want to take about two feet or so of your height." Peter and Josh looked at Maryanne as if she were insane. "So, you don’t mind?"

    Peter cleared his throat. "Um, if that’s what you want, so long as you aren’t planning on breaking my bones or stealing them, go ahead and try." He winked at Josh.

    "Maryanne!" Claire said uncertainly. "Are you sure —

    "Don’t worry guys. You won’t feel a thing. And after a few minutes, it’ll feel totally natural to you." She winked at Claire and made her wish that each of them would take enough height from the boys to be eight feet tall, that after a couple of minutes history would be rewritten around their new physiques and Peter’s and Josh’s and the boys (and everyone else except Claire and herself, of course) would forget that Peter and Josh were ever more than four and a half feet tall weaklings, or that Maryanne and Claire hadn’t grown to their astounding height and strength completely naturally. Also, she wished that she and Claire would have the most impressive wardrobe of perfectly fitting clothes. "Here goes."

    In a blink of an eye, Maryanne and Claire were looking down at the two miserable boys, who now were not even as tall as the girls’ legs.

    "What have you DONE to us?" Josh moaned. "We’re total shrimps now. You’ve ruined me!"

    Maryanne walked closer. She was now wearing a flowing skirt with gold lame, slit to her hip on the side. She kicked off a sandal and pulled Josh onto her foot, then effortlessly lifted her leg to a horizontal position, with Josh hanging on for dear life, his thin arms clutched around the bottom of her hard, muscular thigh, his head resting on the top of it. As he cried for help, Maryanne laughed "You’re not even heavy enough to be a leg weight for me!" She put him down and put her shoe back on.

    "You look wonderful, Maryanne," Claire exclaimed, fingering the soft linen fabric of her filigreed dress.

    "And so do you, Claire," Maryanne replied. She looked down at the boys, who were now dressed in janitor’s uniforms. The reality change had kicked in.

    "You two are absolute goddesses," Josh said. "But you already know that," he added bashfully. Peter just looked at the ground, too shy to look the girls in the eye.

    "That’s sweet," Maryanne said, bending down to kiss Josh on the top of his head. "C’mon Claire, time to let the boys finish their work." She put her arm around Claire and they walked out of the club, which now was all pink and purple, with plush carpets and a very pleasing smell.

    "What’s happened here?" Claire asked. "It’s not called David Lloyd’s anymore! What do you think ‘MC’s’ means?"

    Maryanne picked up a brochure. It had their pictures on the front. "Ha! It’s our chain, the biggest sports club chain in the world, part of M&C Enterprises Limited. Hey Claire. I think we’re rich!"


    Claire looked around her. The passersby craned their heads to gaze admiringly at the two girls who stood at least two feet taller than everyone else. Two Jaguars were waiting at the curb, the drivers alertly waiting for instructions. "Do you think those are ours?" Claire asked, amazed.

    "I think so." Maryanne inclined her head and one of the drivers leapt forward.

    "Ma’am?" he said obligingly.

    "Just take me to the Starbucks in town. I’ve got to meet someone. Claire, I’ll catch up with you later."

    "Sure Maryanne." She walked to her car and sat inside carefully after her driver opened the door, waving goodbye happily.

    Maryanne appreciated the extra legroom in the car, the way the leather felt on her bare legs. What a change from the beat-up Corsa she had bought for £600. THIS was the life! And it was about to get even better. She knew about Michael’s little interest in comic book Superheroes. Now it was time to make it just a bit more real. She made her little wish. Everything would be ready.

    She got out in town and looked in at Starbucks. He wasn’t there. Maybe the pub. She ducked in there. No sign of him, but it took ten minutes to leave while she signed autographs and posed for a couple of pictures. Maybe she should charge for that! No, it wasn’t worth it. And things would be changing again soon anyway. She’d try his flat. She walked the three blocks, ignoring the teenagers following her ten feet behind. Ordinarily that sort of thing would frighten her, but now, if they intended anything bad she was sure she could handle them. And if things got too ugly, she could just steal their strength too. She looked at her biceps. They were almost as large as her waist already. But if they had to get even bigger, well, she wouldn’t mind!

    She pushed the door open to Michael’s building and walked upstairs. At least they weren’t following her inside. A couple of knocks.


    "Michael? It’s me."



    "Maryanne?" She heard footsteps approach the door. "Maryanne Frye?"

    She sighed impatiently. "Yes."

    He opened the door suddenly and looked up at her, incredulous. He looked so small to her now. Cute, of course, with his short dark brown hair and his well-maintained body. He used to seem big. Now he seemed so fragile. "C-come in! Please." He looked around frantically, his eyes darting to the still open computer screen. He tried to position himself between Maryanne and the computer but she was too quick. "Um, would you like a drink? You can sit here, on the couch!"

    There were dirty clothes strewn all over it. Good. Maryanne wrinkled her nose. "No, I’ll take that chair. By the computer." Her long legs carried her there quickly and she sat down, stretching her legs and letting him get a good look at her chest. Not that it was hard. His eyes seemed riveted to her bosom. "Oooh, what this? A picture of me!"

    "Umm, yeah, um."

    "Oh! It looks like you’ve been playing my action game, Maryanne’s Prize! Do you like it, Michael?"

    "Oh, yes!" he said. "I’ve, uh, almost gotten all the way through the last level."

    "I can see that. Very good! Of course I knew that already."

    "Y-you knew? How?"

    "Why do you think it only works when you’re connected to the ‘net? I get info on everyone who’s playing. Especially when they’re about to finish the game. To make sure they’re playing it properly. With no cheats."

    "Really?" He swallowed nervously. "Well, I haven’t use any cheats. I know that would disqualify me for the, you know, prize. B-but of course the prize isn’t real, is it?" His eyes darted up to her face and then quickly back to her chest.

    "Isn’t it?"

    "How could it be? Um, not to disbelieve you M-miss Frye." Now he was looking at her biceps. She turned her wrist to make them jump, and watch him jump as well.

    "There’s just one way to find out. I see that your computer has a chip that’s powerful enough."

    "Well, yeah! I read all the specs and I exceed all of them."

    "Good. Then come over here and finish it."

    He stepped carefully over and when he saw she had no intention of vacating the chair, he tried to squeeze between her and the keyboard without falling onto her lap. He was obviously in awe of her body and completely intimidated by her. And he should be! He cleared the screensaver picture of Maryanne and got to work, battling Maryanne’s enemies on screen, making her gain more and more power until finally she had enough to prevail over her final enemy, the evil super vixen Rhianna. Maryanne’s victory was complete when she absorbed all of Rhianna’s superpowers in addition to her own and reduced her to a pimply, ugly fat girl, with perpetually greasy hair.

    "I did it!" he said triumphantly. Music began to play and lights started flashing. Then a question appeared on the screen:

    You are the First Registered Player to defeat Rhianna and now you may choose Maryanne’s Prize. Will it be

    o Superpowers

    o Supergenius

    o Superfame

    Click on the item you want most. You have ten seconds.

    The number on the screen was counting down. Michael gripped the mouse but his hands were shaking. "I c-can’t d-do. I’m too excited."

    "Silly! Do you want me click it for you? Which one?"

    There were four seconds left. "No! The Prize is mine! I have to do it!" he cried out. He steeled himself and with one second to spare, clicked on "Superpowers."

    "It wouldn’t have mattered who did it," Maryanne said, indifferently.

    The music got louder. Maryanne’s name flashed on the computer screen and then so did Michael’s in smaller letters underneath. A small character looking vaguely like Michael appeared on the screen, smiling broadly, standing next to the larger, triumphant Maryanne shown with the SM emblem emblazoned on her chest, just as she was in the final scene of the game.

    "Hey, is that me?" Michael said excitedly. "Did they make that out of the registration information I sent it?"

    "That’s right, Michael." Maryanne said, smiling. "Now, watch closely. It’s about to happen."

    A futuristic ray gun appeared on the screen and drifted slowly toward the Michael figure. He took it and fired it at Maryanne. She began to glow, the light pulsing more and more rapidly as the beam from the gun stayed on her. Suddenly her figure began to fly around the screen, bursting through walls and performing other acts of strength.

    "Hey, I thought I was getting the superpowers!" he said, disappointed.

    "Wait. It’s just the animation. The program isn’t nearly done yet." The Maryanne on the computer screen stopped so that she was floating in the air, facing the two of them. She held her palm up toward them. The music became even louder and the computer began beeping. The hard drive was churning furiously and the odor of smoke began to fill the room.

    "Oh god!" Michael said, anxiously. "What’s it doing?"

    "It’s nearly ready."

    The picture closed in on the hand on the screen until it was the same size as Maryanne’s own hand, nearly filling the 15 inch screen. The lights in the room dimmed.

    "How did THAT happen?" Michael squealed excitedly.

    A green glow surrounded the screen and then bathed Maryanne and Michael in its eerie light.

    "Oh my god! I’m feeling strange!" Michael said.

    "That’s to be expected. It’s starting," Maryanne said.

    Michael stood up, his arms outstretched, facing the computer screen, his face in an ecstatic expression of joy. "I can’t believe it! I’m getting superpowers! I can feel the energy flowing in me!"

    "Really?" Maryanne said, watching him intently as the green glow intensified until after ten more seconds it stopped. The hard drive sputtered and stopped. The computer was dead. The lights returned to their usual brightness. Michael blinked.

    "Are you all right?"

    Michael looked at himself. "I think so. I don’t look any different." He stared hard at a spoon that was sitting on the computer. "I’m trying to melt it. But nothing’s happening."

    "Should it?"

    "I thought I’d have heat vision or something." His disappointment turned to hope. "Wait! There was no heat vision in the game, so maybe that’s not one of the superpowers. Flying was!" He leapt forward with his arms outstretched and fell right to the floor, sliding along the rug for a few inches before stopping. "Oww." He looked up at her, hurt, unhappy. "It didn’t work!"

    "Are you sure?"

    Michael unhappily nodded. "Unless … unless I’d have to LEARN how to fly first. I have to find something simple!" He grabbed a paper clip, unfolded it, and while Maryanne bit her lip, he stabbed his own finger. A dot of blood came up. "Shit! That hurts! I’m NOT invulnerable. I’m not SUPER!" he said with a heavy sigh. "And for a minute, I really thought the prize was real! I’m sure I felt SOMETHING." He looked at his computer. "AND your stupid game broke my computer!" He glared at her. "You’re going to pay for a new one."

    Maryanne sighed. "Did you read your manual?" Michael shook his head. She handed him a copy from her purse. "Look at p.35. Under ‘Ultimate Winner.’ What does it say?"

    He glanced down at the booklet. "The first registered world Player to defeat Rhianna in Supervixen Mode will win the opportunity to select and activate the award of Maryanne’s Prize. Decisions of the Judges are final. Warning: Delivery of Maryanne’s Prize places severe stress on standard computer components. Any Player activating Maryanne’s Prize assume the risk of damage to his/her computer and other real and personal property and agrees to hold M&C Enterprises Limited harmless from any liability arising in connection therewith."

    "Yeah, yeah. Stupid lawyer’s writing. But the fact is, my computer’s fried and I didn’t get anything for it at all!"

    "Not true! You won the game, you got to choose the award AND to activate it."

    "Yeah, I pressed a stupid button on the screen, but other than destroying my computer, which I NEED for school, nothing happened."

    Maryanne stood up and looked down at him, crossing her powerful arms in front of her formidable bust. "Well, I’M a bit disappointed in YOU."

    "In ME?"

    She brought her arms back, tensing her pecs slightly to make her bust even more prominent, enjoying the way Michael’s eyes goggled. "You WON the game, a terrific game according to ALL the reviews. Hmmm?"

    "Yes." He nodded, suddenly VERY aware of her commanding and very sexy body.

    "I took ALL the trouble to visit you in your apartment. Which you would NEVER have expected. Not in a million years."

    He swallowed. "Uh huh."

    "And PERSONALLY watched you finish the game and WITNESSED your selection of the prize. Would you EVER have expected ME to do THAT?"

    "N-n-no!" Maryanne nodded, satisfied with his response. She turned to the door. "Wait! Are you going already?" She raised an eyebrow. "It’s just … I can’t believe you’re really here. I mean … you must think I’m really dumb. I mean actually complaining about … er … not getting superpowers."

    "You were disappointed?"

    "Ha!" he said nervously. "Well … it’s just that it suddenly seemed, you know, possible. I mean, it was like a lifelong dream. A fantasy. I wouldn’t have admitted it. To anyone. It’s just … under the circumstances…."


    He laughed nervously. "I mean, I know it’s just a game, of course. These things don’t happen. They can’t happen." He smiled. "I know that."

    "You do?" she asked.

    "Oh yes! Of course I do!"

    "Well!" Maryanne had picked up his paper clip and was while they talked she was fingering it, playing with it, then unbending it all the way, then when it was just a single line of wire, she rolled the end back and forth between her thumb and forefinger and held it up to Michael. "Pretty sharp, huh?"

    He looked at it. "Yeah. Wow. It’s like a needle. That’s dangerous. I didn’t realize it was that sharp before."

    "No?" She held it above the back of her hand and slowly lowered it.

    "Don’t! It’ll …" he looked in shock as the point of the wire stopped at her skin and the point broke. "Weird."

    "You think?" she asked, pushing the wire into a little ball and tossing it to Michael. He caught it. "Pretty thin wire. You think you weakened it?"

    "Um … yeah. Wow." He looked at it and swirled it in his palm. "Can I get you a drink, maybe?"

    Some ice cream?"

    "Sure." She looked at the spoon on the computer and he laughed, embarrassed. "Yeah, kind of a mess I guess." He went to pick up the spoon he’d tried to melt before to take it back to the kitchen, then dropped it onto the floor. "Ouch! It’s hot!" Michael looked at it cautiously. "The computer it was on must still be hot. I’ll, uh, just get the ice cream."


    "Chocolate." He took a look at her. Maryanne Frye. In HIS apartment. How long could he keep her there? Could he get her to actually stay with him for awhile? Maybe they could do something together. Even watch a movie. He hurried in the kitchen, not wanting to take the chance that she wouldn’t be there when he came back. But just as he had feared, when he returned, she was nowhere to be seen.

    "Maryanne? Maryanne?" It was strange. He hadn’t heard the door. He looked around the room. "Miss uh Frye?"

    "Your ceiling definitely needs repainting." He followed the voice upwards. She was floating in the air, next to the ceiling! She reached down with her long arm and took the dish of ice cream. "What’s the matter? You’re shaking."

    "Y-y-you’re up there!! You’re flying!"

    "More floating than flying. There isn’t room to fly in this little apartment." She rotated so she was vertical again, one foot off the floor and a few inches away from the ceiling. She took a deep breath and her muscles expanded to twice their resting size, bursting through all of her clothes. They fell slowly to the floor, leaving her in the same Super Maryanne costume her character had worn in the game. "Ahhh, having superpowers feels SOOOO GOOOD! You have NO idea!"

    "B-b-but how? When?"

    "Come on. You were here. Maryanne’s Prize? Your selection? The green glow? Remember?" He stared at her blankly. "You got to choose Maryanne’s — that is, My — prize. I know you thought YOU were going to get it. Well, the game isn’t called Michael’s Prize, is it?"

    "Nooo … but I felt it! The super-power ray. From the computer!"

    "Oh yes, that was it." She tensed her biceps and admired the way they were nearly the size of a soccer ball. "Isn’t that spectacular? Of course they’ve ALWAYS been big." She winked. "But now they’re super-powered too." She held the spoon between her thumb and forefinger and crushed it to the size of a one pound coin. "See? It’s not just the size. It’s the quality."

    Michael swayed on his feet, overwhelmed by the demonstration of her power. "But I was right here. Why didn’t it work on me?"

    She settled onto the floor next to him, her breasts bouncing only slightly when she landed and now looking even more spectacular as they defied gravity. Their outline showed clearly through the thin but indestructible material of her super-suit.

    "Because, Michael," she explained patiently and condescendingly, "they simply weren’t MEANT for you." She tensed her pectorals and her breasts pulsed outwards. "You like?"

    "Bu-bu-bu…" he replied, his mind clearly impaired by the proximity of her body. He couldn’t stop staring at her breasts. His obvious arousal made Maryanne’s whole body tingle, causing her nipples to push out like studs. Michael’s mouth opened slightly, his tongue moving unconsciously around his lips. "Ma-ma-ma …."

    "Maybe you should sit down," Maryanne suggested, and with a short burst of warm air she blew him onto the couch. She followed, hovering in the air above him. "Are you sure you’re all right?" His mouth was still moving but no intelligible sounds emerged. He reached up toward her, but she was just out of his reach.

    He nodded. "It’s just … is there ANY chance I could get super-powers too?"

    She smiled and licked her lips. "Nope. Not a chance. Is there anything else you want?"

    He stared at her, awash in desire. "Do you think … maybe … sometime we could go on a date?"

    "A date?" She looked at him with a sly smile. "I’ll have to think about it." And with that, she flew out through the window.


    Ah! A teasing end… Really lovely Mark. Thanks for writting such nice story.

    I really like the idea of Maryanne got the power of the pendant. I must admit that I cracked of laughs as Maryanne was talking about Pendant Changes.

    I just wonder what could have happen if she had made Celia’s wish. That idea is really spinning my head 😯



    That was a nice story Mark. I’m glad she didn’t become like all those guys and girls she didn’t like. I guess she must be very mature. lol If I have those powers I’d make the world where women are bigger and stronger but more maternal. Plus add in where they all ways are turned on. But thats just me I guess I really need a girlfriend to take my virginity 😛


    Wow! Another fantastic story! Thanks, Marknew!


    It was a fantastic story Marknew, just the title make me happy, it must be the word "wish", it’s so promising (I don’t know if this word exist) I lve the way (and her too) she choose to grow little by little all day long + she is cruel but she want to live in a word who accept her as the normal Maryanne. Very good idea.

    I don’t understand the thing about "cindy’ I should read the whole "pendant change" story a second time and learn some new words in english (I can’t imagine them all)

    Bravo again for this fantastic story.

    Mark Newman

    X-Greg, the reference in the beginning of Maryanne’s Wish is to something that happened at the very end of Wednesday.


    Story was well written… but something was bugging me…

    Why can’t the girls in these stories ever meet a nice, kind, sensitive, guy, instead of all these jerks and twits?

    I wish that a nice guy would pop up in this one…

    That makes me want to write a story… and I would if I didn’t have so many on the burners now!

    Mark Newman

    I thought Michael WAS a nice guy.


    Well… Michael IS a nice guy. He never did nothing wrong to Maryanne. The problem was that Maryanne wasn’t the kind of woman he likes. For that, he didn’t pay her the attention she wants, but she realized that.

    Changing into a voluptous muscled amazon was Maryanne’s idea. If she chose the kind of body Michael wants, she would have it anyway. Instead, she decided to seduce him with the body SHE want to have, and I must admit that her teasing on Michael was perfect.

    She changed the guy’s taste in a very gentle way. Because, at the end, she got what she want. The possibility to go out with Michael in a date.

    She is just giving her the time to enjoy that she finally has the guy she wanted at her feet. In a very gentle way I must mention again.

    So far, Maryanne hasn’t done anything wrong either. So, I like to imagine that they could be happier together.


    Sorry, I can’t agree there. If totally trashing one’s computer is "gentle," I’d hate to see what she’d have done if she were mad at him. From what I can tell, she’s not as much in love with him as she is in having him under her spell, or thumb, or whatever.

    And on Michael ditching Rhianna like that… I’ve been on the receiving end of being called a blobbutt myself, and while I don’t know how much of a shrew Rhianna was, I definitely would’ve tried to get her help if that happened to her.

    I stand by my previous statement.

    Oh, one other thing… wouldn’t Maryanne have at least ONE platonic guy friend to talk to? It seems like it’s always a Girls Rule/Us Vs. Them mentality. (Yeah, this is from the guy that passed out handguns to the Pendant Changes spinoff schoolboys. Sue me.)

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