chapter 1

“You can make a man do anything if you appeal to his vanity.” Brittney sounded very sure of herself when she made her bold statement. “Believe me, I know,” she continued.

It was Friday night. Brittney, Corrie and Debbie were in the kitchen, each of them with a glass of wine. Their husbands were out on the patio, drinking beer. The three couples had finished their pot luck dinner, and once everyone had eaten, the husbands drifted outside and the wives stayed in the kitchen.

“I don’t know,” Corrie answered. “Maybe some men. Maybe sometimes you can get them to do something. But anything…?” she trailed off.

“Anything,” responded Brittney with finality. “You just have to find the right vanity button and push it.”

“Sounds manipulative to me,” Debbie spoke quietly.

“Well, of course it’s manipulative,” answered Brittney with a hint of exasperation. “But if that’s what it takes to get what you want, then so what?”

Debbie didn’t answer. Well, she was always a little timid. Corrie, on the other hand, wasn’t timid at all. “Brittney, I know you’re exaggerating. No one can get a man to do just anything she wants him to.”

“I can,” Brittney said defiantly. “I’ve been doing it with Matt for years.” Matt was her husband. He was sipping an Ultra-Low Carb beer on the patio. Corrie’s husband John was a craft beer drinker, so he had the latest local IPA. Debbie’s husband, Ken, had a Bud.

“So if you decided that you wanted Matt to do something, you could find a way to appeal to his vanity and get him to do it. Whatever you wanted him to do.” Corrie was looking Brittney straight in the eye when she talked, a hint of a challenge in her voice.

“You name it, I could get Matt to do it,” said Brittney, meeting the challenging stare.

“Anything?”

“Anything.� �� Corrie looked out the kitchen window at their husbands. They were standing on the patio in shorts and t-shirts. It was early March, but in Orlando that often meant evenings in the mid-70s. All of them were young professionals. Corrie’s husband, John, had put a little marriage weight on. Not a lot, maybe 20 pounds on his six foot frame, but it gave him a slightly rounded stomach. Debbie’s husband, Ken, was kind of a beanpole, even though he didn’t work out. Matt, though, was the hard body. In fact, he was buff. He was careful about his diet, and worked out at least three times a week. He was vain about his body, and dressed to show off how good it looked. Corrie got a gleam of mischief in her eyes. “Okay, Brittney, if you can make Matt do anything, make him…let’s see, what is it you could never get him to do…I know! I want to see you make Matt get fat.”

Debbie giggled nervously, as though this couldn’t be a serious conversation. Brittney didn’t laugh, though. She snorted derisively. “Get fat? My Mister Hardbody? You’re kidding me, right?”

Corrie smirked, “You said anything, right? So, prove it. I’ll believe you can get Matt to do anything if you can get him to put on, oh, let’s say 20 pounds. When I see him 20 pounds heavier, I’ll believe you can get him to do anything. And I don’t mean 20 pounds of muscle. I mean he gets a belly, like my John has.”

Brittney wasn’t backing down. “Corrie, you’re on! You’re going to see Matt with a 20 pound belly on him, and you’re going to eat crow!” Both Brittney and Corrie broke into loud laughter. They were competitive, but they were friends who both loved a challenge. Debbie giggled her nervous giggle, not sure what else to do.

“Any time limit on this, Corrie? I can make him gain 20 pounds, but not overnight.”

“How about, oh, three months? That should be enough time one way or another.”

“Do you want to weigh him? That’ll kind of give it away.”

“No,” mused Corrie. “If he gains 20 pounds, we’ll be able to see it. But it’ll never happen.”