Jessica had finally reached the point where she'd had enough. Enough of Tom's nagging, enough worrying that he was banging secretaries and floozies on his 'business trips.' Enough worrying that she'd find herself and her son out on the streets with a freshly signed divorce decree and a prenup that she wished she'd never signed shoved in her face.
Twelve years ago, when she'd been twenty two and foolish, she'd though Tom was the greatest catch in the world. Sure, he was ten years older than her, but that only made him seem like so much better of a catch than the losers she'd been dating. He'd been strong, confident, independent and already wealthy. He'd taken her to nice restaurants, bought her nice things to wear, took her on fancy trips, and he always told her how beautiful she was. When he asked her to marry him, less than a year after they met, she'd been too over the moon to worry about the minor legal details that 'his lawyer insisted on.'
But then, slowly, things had changed. Oh the first five years had been wonderful, and he'd said that he was in no hurry to have children. She'd been slim, athletic with perky B-cup breasts and a figure that came from a love of active hobbies. He'd delighted in showing her off, taking her on cruises where she soaked up the sun until she developed a pleasant bronzed tan that complimented her naturally wavy dark hair. He'd reveled in taking her dancing, where she could show off her long legs and 5'9" figure as they strode across the floor. Those had been enchanted days.
But then, he'd started to feel his age a bit, and the desire for a child to pass the family business on to was becoming stronger than the desire to have a trophy wife with a figure unspoiled by pregnancy. Even then, it had taken two years of trying, with business trips constantly at war with her own cycle and the best times to conceive. Finally, at twenty nine, they had conceived, and she gave birth to their son Hamish. That had been five years ago.
Since then, she'd felt more and more like a trophy mom than trophy wife. The pregnancy had been hard on her, and she'd spent too much time on bed rest, both before and after delivering. Then, during Hamish's first two years, she'd insisted in taking care of him directly, and refused Tom's offer to hire a nanny. Finally, she'd given in on that, and taken some of her own time back. But... the years had done their work, and she wasn't the stunning slim woman at thirty two that she was at twenty nine.
And that was when Tom started dropping hints. He had an old college buddy who was a surgeon, he'd say, who could set her up with one of those 'mommy makeovers' and help her get back on track. Jessica had refused. She'd begged off, saying she just needed to get back out to the tennis court, and work on her diet more. The taste she'd acquired while pregnant for things that were both deep fried and salty hadn't left her after Hamish was born, and that too had had an impact on her figure. The excuse worked for a time, but six months later, when she'd made little progress towards 'getting back into shape,' Tom started hinting again.
This time though, it was a little worse. He'd mention the 'mommy makeover,' and then he'd follow it up with a casual statement of something more. "You know, while he's at it, he could probably do a little work on your breasts.... fill them up a little more..." Or he'd make another comment: "Did you know they do permanent makeup now? I bet that'd save you some time in the mornings...."
For over a year this had gone on. Meanwhile, his business trips became more frequent, and when he came home, he seemed even less interested in sex. She couldn't prove he was having an affair, but even if he wasn't, how much longer would it be until he was? She had to do something. Finally, she'd found her answer. A magic that would let her put him in her shoes. She'd found her way out of the pickle, one way or another, things would get better.
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