When Janie married Steve, she knew 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 his abuse of power was spiralling out of control.
However, from the moment Steve first met Janie, his soul melted. 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. 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.
Janie knew what 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 implicitly, but 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 gain.
At twenty-four years of age, bimbos were all Steve knew. He had made his first one at his seventeenth birthday party when Tracy Robinson refused to make out with him and from that moment 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. But 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. They were married the following fall.
Twenty years later, and Steve and Janie were as happy as ever. One evening though, Janie was clearly 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 went downstairs to her husband, sketches in hand and asked him where they came from.
Steve looked first at the sketches, then at Janie and his face fell. "Darling, there's something I need to tell you."
