Chris had a major problem.
Well, to be fair- most people wouldn’t categorize it as a “MAJOR” problem. Many people would describe it as a minor inconvenience, or perhaps an uncomfortable state of affairs. For Chris, however, it transcended such benign nomenclature.
You see, Chris had agreed to a “boys trip” with his college friends about 6 months ago. At the time, he figured he had plenty of time to get himself into “vacation-ready” shape. However, Chris had vastly overestimated his drive to do so. After a weak first month, the stress of work, car troubles, and a family emergency had resulted in him being in exactly the same shape a few days out from the trip as he had been in the moment he had booked the trip.
You might assume Chris was in terrible shape. In fact, this was not really the case. You see, Chris had been quite trim during college (some might have called him “shredded”- though this was perhaps a SLIGHT exaggeration). The ensuing years, however, had knocked him down a couple of pegs. In the seven or so years since graduation, he had managed to pile on some twenty-five or so pounds, which left him striking a much more pedestrian figure. To his chagrin, all of his college friends seemed more or less the same as they had (at least based on their posts on social media), which had him experiencing some premature embarrassment at the prospect of their snide remarks and comments about his softened form. The trip was in two days, what could he REALLY do now?
“And I just KNOW that Marcus is going to lay into me,” Chris said dejectedly as he commiserated with his friend Leslie, “Ribbing is his first instinct.”
“Well,” Leslie said sympathetically, “I’m sure you’re overreacting. You gonna finish those fries?”
With a hand gesture, Chris let her know they were hers for the taking. Leslie was all too happy to reach across the table, setting her generous assets to wobble, and greedily nabbed the fries. It merits mentioning that Leslie was likely at least partly responsible for Chris’ gradual weight gain. The two had been friends since they both started working for Expanded Horizons INC. Their weekly lunches seldom consisted of any healthy options, and Leslie’s influence-- unintentionally, it should be noted-- inadvertently led Chris to relax his own dietary regiment.
Leslie was a big gal. There was no point in denying it, and she would gladly own up to it herself. While Chris stood at 5’10’, Leslie didn’t lag far behind at 5’8”. Chris’ careless consumption of calories had catapulted him to a stout 200 pounds. Leslie, on the other hand, easily dwarfed him in this respect. Though it’s quite uncouth to ask a lady her weight, if you were ever to get Leslie to waddle onto a scale (something she very seldom did these days), you’d both be surprised to receive a read-out of 360 pounds. A great deal of that mass was deposited into her generous posterior and lard-filled thighs, making her decidedly pear-shaped. However, one doesn’t reach such a prodigious weight without amassing adipose in other areas, so no portion of her shape was devoid of fat. Her meaty double-chin wobbled when she spoke, her chunky bingo wings jiggled when she reached for more food, her considerable breasts heaved as she struggled up stairs, and her thickly padded double-belly produced cavernous rumbles when it demanded more food.
Given her own “weight issues,” one might expect that Leslie would not be particularly moved by Chris’ relatively insignificant complaints. However, Leslie held Chris in high esteem. He had never shamed her for her own weight, was kind and patient, and often went the extra mile for both friends and strangers. If something was really bugging Chris, then she was going to try to help him out- as he had done countless times for her.
“What if,” she managed between mouthfuls of fries, “What if you could drop weight… temporarily? Would that solve the issue?
Chris looked at her, visibly confused.
“I mean,” he looked up at the ceiling as he considered the ridiculous hypothetical, “I mean… I guess? After all, I don’t really completely HATE the way I look now. If I could look how I did in college for the week of the trip and then go back to this, I wouldn’t complain. But what’s the point in even thinking about that? There’s no ‘get fit quick’ scheme that could help me now.”
“Well…” Leslie began, pushing the empty fry container away, “Maybe there is…”
“Huh?”
“Maybe I could use… you know…”
Chris looked at her, uncertainty plain on his face.
“You know,” she continued, lowering her voice and leaning closer to him, “A little… magic?”
“Oh please, I doubt your little tricks- as impressive as they are- could help me now.”
Chris was aware that Leslie had been dabbling in magic for some time. He found her interest in the subject harmless enough, and had to admit that there was SOME things she was capable of. So far, he had seen her change water into Coca-Cola and levitate a feather a few feet in the air for a few seconds, but none of what she had demonstrated seemed particularly useful to Chris.
“I did see a spell that could help,” she said, “Well, it requires the user to inscribe a rune on their skin- but other than that, it seems relatively simple.”
“So what, you tattoo something on me and I magically lose some weight? And then, after a week- it comes back?”
“Not exactly,” Leslie said, leaning back, “You know as well as I do that matter cannot be created nor destroyed. Someone would have to take the weight and then give it back to you after the vacation.”
“Who would-”
Leslie gave him a knowing look.
“You? You would take my weight on for me?” Chris asked, shocked at Leslie’s generousness.
“For a week, sure,” Leslie shrugged, “Either way, we’re mostly remote at this point. I can just not come into the office for a week and give you the weight back when you’re back from your trip. No harm, no foul. I mean, I might expect YOU to do the same for me at some point, but I doubt I’d really need that.”
“And it would work, you’re sure of it?”
“Well, not entirely. But the worst case scenario is you have a useless rune somewhere on your body. What have you got to lose?”
. . .
And so, Chris found himself in Leslie’s living room, where she was carefully etching the required rune into his upper shoulder.
“Ouch!”
“Don’t be a baby,” she chided him, “I already did it to myself, and it barely hurt.”
Chris rolled his eyes.
“Aaaand… done!” she said, watching the rune faintly glow purple for a brief moment.
Chris took a look at it. Luckily, it was a rather inoffensive tattoo. Anyone who saw it would simply assume it was some kind of tribal tattoo and never give it another thought.
“If I read the tome correctly,” Leslie began, we just each press a finger into each other’s rune. Then, the one transferring mass simply says how much they want to transfer.”
“Alright,” Chris said with a shrug, pressing his index finger into Leslie’s fleshy upper arm, “seems simple enough…”
Leslie pressed her own manicured finger into Chris.
“Alright,” Chris began, feeling a tingling sensation in his upper arm, “I’d like to transfer… twenty-five pounds?”
Chris felt the tingling sensation course through his entire body. By the look on his face, he could tell that Leslie was feeling something somewhat similar. Leslie bit her lip, feeling her clothes tighten around her form- primarily her midsection-- as this was where Chris had been carrying a solid amount of his extra weight-- and then released a deep sigh.
Chris pulled up his shirt, revealing washboard abs he hadn’t seen in years. Leslie smiled faintly, knowing that the pudge that had layered his midsection had been unceremoniously slapped onto her own.
“Holy shit!”Chris yelped, feeling how loose his pants were and looking in the mirror to see his face was just as angular as it had been in college, “It fucking worked!”
“Told ya,” Leslie said with a haughty smirk, “Not just silly little tricks now, huh?”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Chris nearly shrieked as he rushed to hug Leslie, noting that the increased weight of her gut had pulled her shirt up and her pants down.
“Ah,” Leslie chuckled, “It’s nothing. Don’t you worry, this-”
She slapped her heavy gut for emphasis.
“Will be waiting for you when you get back. Now, don’t you have a flight to catch?”
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