BIMBOS AND SKETCHES
When Janie married Steve, she knew all about his powers. Steve had the power to turn anybody he wanted into anything he wished, just with the clap of his hands. When Janie had met him, Steve had a harem of blonde bimbos fifty strong (and those were just the girls he kept, the girls he just changed on a whim or at the grovelling requests of his friends probably numbered in the thousands) and his abuse of power was spiralling out of control.
However, from the moment Steve first met Janie, his heart and soul melted. Her pure innocent face, the flowing ruby red hair, pert yet modest breasts, she was like Venus and Aphrodite rolled into one. Before that moment he had never believed in love at first sight, only bimbo at first clap. Yet this girl triggered something inside of him that he never knew was there, for the first time he felt love and compassion. He wanted to know her, not fuck her, he wanted to spend time in her company, not in her pussy and he wanted to grow old with her, not grow tired of her.
He was prepared to do anything for her, but she had one demand that took all of his will power to try and keep. Janie told him that if she was to give him a chance, he had to give up the bimbos, forever. She had to be the only girl for him, not merely in the top fifty. He had to promise her that for as long as they were together he would never turn another girl again, even if they only gave a semi-convincing portrayal of a seminal Marvel Super heroine in the last incarnation of the franchise.
Janie knew what how much she was asking of him and was also well aware that Steve had the power to make her retract her ultimatum. In fact she knew that Steve could make her do and think anything he wanted, yet she was never scared of him. She saw something in him that told her that he would never try and change her. She felt the same connection that Steve felt and trusted him completely. Yet like most modern twenty-first century New Yorkers, she couldn’t live with a man that had his own bimbo harem. If she was to be with him, he had to promise to never make another bimbo ever again; even if they forgot to use soy milk in his latte.
At twenty-four years of age, bimbos were all Steve knew. He remembered the first girl he turned like it was only yesterday. It was the day of his seventeenth birthday party and that bitch Tracy Robinson had refused to make out with him. He’d warned her that if she didn’t make out with him she would have to suck his cock but she still refused. So having given her fair warning he clapped his hands and watched as Tracy’s bra exploded under the strain of breasts quadrupling in size and her pussy burned twofold from both hunger for cock and allergy to panties.
The look on her face was priceless as it morphed from disdain to uncontrollable arousal passing through confusion, shock and fear on the way. From that moment when he first experienced the feel of bimbo lips on cock, he developed the taste that nothing other than planet-sized breasts, cock-hungry lips and a giggle that could make jelly go stiff could satisfy.
Over the years he perfected his art. Breasts got bouncier, asses got more spankable, lips became so sensitive that sucking a cock for five minutes created a sensation akin to having one’s pussy pounded by a ten inch cock that knew all the right spots to hit. In short, Steve was a bimbo-making machine. His skill and craft was almost artisanal in its intricacy and he thought nothing would ever convince him to give all that up.
Yet Janie was the one. He knew it and was prepared to do anything for her. So on the night of her twenty-second birthday, he promised her he would give up bimbos forever. He dissolved the harem (not literally of course) and proposed to her that night under a moonlit sky. They were married the following fall in a small service on the beach. The service was everything Janie had dreamed of since she was a little girl and Steve was everything the husband she dreamed of marrying.
Twenty years later, and Steve and Janie were as happy as ever. One evening though, Janie was clearing out their bedroom cupboard when a box fell from the top shelf and burst open as it crashed onto the bedroom floor, spilling three black and white sketches that were as beautiful as anything Janie had ever seen. The detail of the lines, the use of nothing but charcoal, yet telling a story in vivid colour was awe-inspiring. Janie was no art critic but they felt like truly great works of art, she was visibly moved by their beauty. She went downstairs to her husband, sketches in hand and asked him where they came from.
Steve looked at Janie, then at the sketches in her hand and his face fell. “Darling, there’s something I need to tell you.”
“What is it dear? Where did these beautiful drawings come from?”
“Twenty years ago I made a promise to you that I would never again turn a woman into a bimbo. That from that day I would leave all women be to lead their natural lives without the enhanced urge to fuck from dusk till dawn and then still be horny enough to continue through to dusk again. I promised to give it all up for you so that we could live the rest of our lives together.”
“And I love you every day for that sacrifice you made for me. It was the most loving and devoted thing a man has ever done for a woman.”
“And I wanted to make that sacrifice for you, I loved you… I still love you, with all of my heart, but I am weak. There were times when I strayed from my promise to you. I am not proud of what I did but a man can give in to a moment of weakness, a brief millisecond when he goes astray and I am ashamed to say that what you hold in your hand is a symbol of those milliseconds.
“Those sketches are a reflection of the guilt I felt each time I have given in to my weakness and turned a girl into a cum-slurping whore since we have been married. Each occasion when I turned to my art to voice my inner turmoil over the betrayal I have committed. They are my penance and my reminder that I do not deserve you, yet I cannot bear to lose you.”
Janie looked again at the sketches in her hands. “These pictures… this indescribable beauty, they are a product of your lies?”
“I am sorry. Truly I am, I wanted to stay true to you but it was so hard. Bimbos and sluts were my life for so long. They were a part of me, a part of me that was inside of them for many many years. I am so sorry; I do not deserve your forgiveness but please find it in your heart to see that I am just an old fool in love that had moments when he lost his way. I will try to be better I promise.”
Janie just stared into the images in her hand. With her husband’s confession, she could feel the pain and guilt etched into every speck of charcoal. Even if she couldn’t believe his words, she believed these sketches. Such beauty could never come from an insincere heart. Each of the three solitary images urged her heart to forgive him for his misdeeds. Her head was still angry with his betrayal, but her heart had already forgiven his three misdemeanours.
“I can forgive you.” She told him, “And these sketches, they’re beautiful.”
“They come from the heart, from the soul.” Said Steve, “They speak of what my voice cannot. They speak the silent language of regret.”
“We should sell them.” suggested Janie. “As a new start, the world should see these, art like this deserves to be experienced by the world. They are wasted hiding in a box at the back of a dark cupboard.”
“I am glad you feel that way.” Said Steve, “I have an art dealer in New York who pays me one thousand dollars per sketch. Now that finally you know my secret that has haunted me all these years, we can finally use the money I have made from selling my sketches over the years to buy that house in Malibu we always dreamed of; the one with the six bedrooms, and fully heated indoor swimming pool. There may even be enough left over for a Ferrari, or at least a Mercedes.”