Why are you doing this?

Why are you doing this?

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Hour 2

“I’m sorry…” I dropped my head against the wood of the door. I could hear her talking to someone on the other end of a phone. She stopped talking for a moment as I pushed my forehead into the grain.

“Do you need sex?” She called out, impassive. My heart jumped, hearing her voice. I wasn’t expecting an answer! I’d been smashing my fingers into my laptop, having finished my ‘list’ almost immediately. I basically spent the whole day in my hotel room reading the Freya and Wendy comics; there wasn’t much to write about.

“N-no.” I ignored the pulse in my clit. “I just want to talk.”

“Go work on your list.” She said.

“I finished. I really didn’t do much that day.”

“Victoria, it needs to be as detailed as possible.”

“I have all the porn on my tablet.”

She muttered something into the phone, presumably. Silence stretching. I just wanted her to open the door so we could talk. “Go get it.” She ordered. I was happy to oblige. Except…

“Kai has all my luggage.”

She started muttering again. There was an occasional break, but then she went back to muttering. “H-hey. Can we please talk?” I requested, banging my head on the door.

“Do you need sex?” She asked as if this were a new conversation.

Ok, got it. Not ready yet. That was fine. Not everything worked on my time frame. She wanted some space and time. Ok.

Never mind me just having my body transformed in secret, irreversible ways. Totally didn’t need some emotional support right now. Not a scary experience at all, actually.

I went upstairs and hopped into the shower, surprised it took me as long as it had to think of it. I was covered in dried fluid and sweat—apparently massage oil, go figure—and knew that even if it was sexy, it probably wasn’t sanitary to leave it on all day. I let the hot water wash over me until it turned cold, and stepped out, checking myself in the mirror.

I looked younger. Thirty, maybe? My skin tighter and smoother, my face less creased and droopy. My eyes were… red. Not bloodshot or irritated. They weren’t blue anymore. They were a bright neon red. Just like Lu’s…

What else did I see at the restaurant? My stomach growled. I’d make some food and then work on the list again.

Hour 3

“Love, I made you food.” I gently rapped my finger against the door, holding a bowl of milkless Cheerios. “Well, I guess ‘made’ is kind of overselling it.” She stopped muttering and I heard her approach the door. I perked up, hoping to get an update. The door opened and she rubbed her puffy eyes, face red. She’d been crying?

She pulled the bowl from my hands and sniffled. “Do you need sex?” She asked, taking hold of the spoon and trying to blink her tears away. I went in to hold her but she just pulled away.

“Char, you’re crying.”

“I’m fine.” She shook her head.

“Bad news from Jens, then?”

“No, he won’t have any news until tomorrow when he sees your list.”

“It’s done.”

“No, it’s not. You cannot write the detail required in the time you’ve used. We need everything from the first sip to you spinning o—“ She lifted the spoon to her lips, looking down at her mouth as the dry cereal spilled in.

“Someone drank all the milk…” I chuckled, making a funny face. She rolled her eyes and went to close the door. She wasn’t stronger than my forearm, though. “Wait, if Jens can’t say anything, then who are you talking to?”

She wiped her eye with the sleeve of her sweater. “Blake.” She said, seeming to know what kind of bomb that was. Blake had been Charlie’s best friend since college. Blake was a good guy with a nice wife and two children. Blake and his nice wife and two children hated my guts and had visited Charlie almost every day trying to subtly convince him to leave me months before my affair was found out. The kids even straight up asked why ‘Uncle Charlie’ wasn’t married to Blake’s sister-in-law, ‘Aunt Debbie.’

“Why are… is something up with his family?” I tried redirecting my question to sound less suspicious. But I did not like the idea of my wife crying to Blake. Charlie would defend my name even if I was actively shoveling mud on it. Charlotte seemed to have more self-respect. Really bad timing to grow one of those backbones… Blake very well could convince her to leave me.

“No, we’re just catching up.” A really weird time to just decide to drop a line.

“About what?” I asked.

“About me being a girl, now, ok?” She pushed against the door. “He’s my best friend, and this is a weird time, I appreciate his support.”

“Does he know about…”

“No. Nobody does and nobody can, ok? Did you need sex or can you please go back to your list for tomorrow?”

“Is talking an option?” I asked. She sighed, lifting a dry scoop of cereal up and then dropping the spoon back down into the bowl. She reached the bowl up, angling it towards me with one hand, the other coming up to my breast and giving it a firm squeeze, jets of milk spraying the top layer of Cheerios. “Hey!” I recoiled, swatting her hand away.

She lifted the spoon and took a bite, nodding with approval. She lifted the bowl in a ‘cheers’ motion and started closing the door with her foot. “Now you’ve made me some food.” The door shut, the lock clicking.

Despite the violation, it had been extremely hot to see her using my milk like that. This hadn’t been on her answer sheet, which was surprising to me. Charlie had always enjoyed more gentle femdom. Soft, loving, but decidedly dominating. Pile on top of that his mommy issues and I thought it was a safe bet that he had a mommy kink repressed somewhere. His subconscious had literally called itself Mommy.

But Charlie hadn’t mentioned lactation in his answers, despite Charlotte’s enthusiasm.

Michelle and her breast pumps! That’s what must have triggered it! I had spent the whole meeting salivating at her swollen, milky tits. Plus the Freya and Wendy comic where Freya breastfeeds Wendy… Repeatedly. Excessively.

I went back to my list.

Hour 4

She couldn’t leave me. It wasn’t my fault she chose not to tell me what the pills were going to do or how they worked. The risks were not properly communicated to me. For all I knew, it was just extra strength ibuprofen. Yeah, I was told not to drink on it, but most meds have side-effects like nausea or diarrhea or liver and kidney issues long term.

I had no reason to suspect that two glasses of wine at a business lunch would permanently alter my DNA! How could I even have intuited that? All I knew was that I was taking pills I shouldn’t drink on, my shoes were sized wrong, I was horny as fuck, sweating constantly, and I needed to fix a six-hundred-fifty-million dollar deal.

Which I fucking did despite needing to blast my clit the whole time! I praised myself. I was the fucking best! Dane even said so on the call during my limo ride back: “You are the fucking best!” And then I finger blasted myself the whole ride back.

I was the best. Charlotte should have been grateful to be married to—the pills made me even more of a fucking narcissist, didn’t they? I slammed my head into the counter top. This was so fucking annoying!

I turned my head, looking through my hair as I reopened my laptop with one hand, beginning to type up about the limo ride back. I paused. My hair looked different. The white wasn’t as… white. It was starting to fade into a pink color! Lu had red fucking hair.

“Fuck!”

“Do you need sex?” Charlotte faintly called from the bedroom.

“No, I’m just writing.” I answered, failing to hide my frustration. “I wouldn’t mind a conversation, though.”

“I’m still figuring things out. We can talk later.”

I groaned, sitting up and revising my account. The fuck does that mean? Figuring things out? I knew she wasn’t figuring out this pill situation, she said Jens or whoever the fuck couldn’t help until tomorrow.

What could she possibly be figuring out calling her friends who hate me? No, don’t panic about it. She’s stayed after much bigger fuck ups. She didn’t even seem mad about the **** fucking up all the nice transformations she wanted. She didn’t shut down until I said I missed a dose.

She’s trying to figure out if she wants to stay.

No, no, I was just spiraling. It happened a lot since the affair. “Babe, I’m spiraling.” I called out, marching back up to the door. “I’m scared that you’re gonna leave me.” Charlie always told me to be upfront and frank with my anxieties. Said it wasn’t wise to let those feelings build and spiral when a quick conversation would help clear up any miscommunications.

There was a sigh. “I’m not leaving you.” Charlotte answered. I heard the bed shift and her feet make their way over to the door. “I couldn’t if I wanted to.” She added, unlocking the door and opening it. I went to hug her, but she dropped to her knees, taking my gym shorts down with her. “I have a permanent, incurable addiction to parts of your body.” She gave a long, hungry lick to my wet slit, forcing me to shiver. She rocked her face back and forth a bit then stood back up, pulling my shorts up.

“Just to take the edge off.” She said. “By the way, you’re pretty wet down there, are you sure you don’t need sex?”

Yes, but I’m not trying to be a fucking animal, right now. “No, I—“ I paused. What did she just say? “Wait, are you saying you’d leave if you could?”

She groaned, shaking her head in frustration. “No that’s—This is why I need time to think, okay? I’m balancing a lot of emotions and hormones and my raw, unfiltered thoughts are just going to make you spiral more.”

“Well, I’m sorry that my mental breakdown is coming at an inconvenient time for you, but in case you hadn’t heard: I’m becoming a freak of fucking nature right now because of your pills! And it’s like you don’t fucking care!”

She sucked in her bottom lip, suppressing anger. Not ideal but at least she has some reaction instead of mechanically asking about sex. She was debating saying something. Come on. Say it. Fight me, slap me, just don’t ignore me right now. She drew in a sharp breath, letting it out in a shaky exhale to calm herself.

“Blake had a cancer scare.” She said through tight lips. “Had to get a prostate exam last week.”

“Ahhhhh.” I didn’t quite know what reaction to have to that. It certainly wasn’t the direction I was expecting her to go. Blake was, all things considered, a good guy. I didn’t like him meddling in my relationship, but he was a very good friend to Charlotte. Charlie had always been a good guy who hung around good guys. I always hung with the bad guys, and Blake was always the first to point that out.

“It came up fine, nothing bad. But you know, it got me thinking about my prostate.” She nodded, flashing her eyebrows at me. “Right now, my prostate is morphing into a long, tubular organ that’s shaped like the number eight.” She put two open fists on top of each other. “One tube is gonna encircle and stretch along most of my vaginal canal, the other tube is going to be lining the bottom of my large intestine. Yeah, so that way anytime anything goes in or out of my ass or pussy, I’m left splattering all over myself.”

She shrugged, putting on a big fake smile. I looked down at my feet, embarrassed to have that particular fantasy quoted at me. “Speaking of my intestines, I can feel all of them starting to condense. Simplify. I don’t know what’s happening to my stomach, exactly, but I know that when this is over, I’m gonna be shitting tubes of silicone dildoes that basically fuck me on the way out.”

She kept lifting up her hands and doing air quotes whenever she was drawing directly from what I had written. Then she dropped them, crossing her arms and leaning against the door. “When I was four, I wanted to be a dinosaur. When I was seven, I wanted to be a cowboy. When I was ten, I wanted to be an actor, and then at seventeen I wanted to be a teacher. Next month I turn forty, and I’ll be a sextoy.”

“This was your—“

“Sure, I’m done talking.”

Whoah! That was… harsh. I recoiled in surprise, like her words just smacked me in the face with a chair. She pressed her fingers to her temples, shaking her head with a pained expression. “S-sorry. I’m… something’s…” She stood up straight again, looking me in the eyes, starting to close the door. “Listen, I know it’s scary not knowing. But be realistic: whatever you saw accidentally during the course of a workday is probably not as weird or debilitating as the stuff that’s gonna be happening to me. So just sit back and enjoy the ride, and for the love of God, please just obey the very simple instructions.”

I couldn’t believe this. It was somehow my fault? I didn’t know everything I wrote would be manifested in my wife’s actual human body! Fuck, I want her so bad. “If you had just told me from the beginning that my answers would be applied to you, I wouldn’t have written any of that shit down! And I’d have taken those instructions more seriously!”

She took a trembling breath, tears coming to her eyes. Apparently I’d just crossed a line. “Told you? All I ever do is tell you! Don’t share a hotel room with your secretary, don’t talk to those cougars at the gym, don’t drink on the pills, don’t miss a dose, don’t talk to me for a few hours unless you need sex! Why does everything need an explanation like you’re a teenager? Can’t the things I tell you just be important because I said they were? How many times do I need to be right before you just do what I tell you?” She shook her head, voice cracking. “Told you? Fuck you!” She slammed the door closed, locking it.

Fuck me? She’d never… he’d never said that to me before. Never locked me out, either. Pushed me away on occasion, but never fully shut me away.

How did I become the bad guy in this situation? I took her magic pills, my body was mutating, and she was still holding my affair over my head? “We agreed we were even!” I pounded my fist into the door, immediately punching right through it.

Charlotte ducked down, letting out a sharp scream of terror, throwing her arm up to cover her face as she kicked herself into the bed frame. My eyes widened, staring at my fist sticking through the splintered door. Remember all the holes in his parents’ house, you monster? “No!” I quickly withdrew my hand. “No! Accident! I swear to fuck! I’m much stronger than yesterday and I…”

She just curled into a ball, rocking. “Okay. I’m sorry. Whatever you want.” She nodded her head. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Please. We can talk. Please. I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry.”

“I pushed you. I shouldn’t have pushed. You’re right. Please stop. I’m sorry.”

“Charlotte, this was an accident, I swear.”

“Of course. I’m sorry. I riled you up.”

“Please don’t shut down right now, baby.”

“Okay.” She nodded, pushing to her feet and walking up to the door, unlocking it. It swung open and she wrapped her arms around my waist in a shivering hug. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. It’s ok. It was an accident. We can talk. Please stop hitting.”

I wrapped my arms around her shoulders, holding her head to my chest, trying to be tender. “Charlotte, what just happened was not ok.”

“You didn’t mean it.”

“Charlotte, what just happened was not ok.”

“It was an accident.”

“It was not ok.”

“I pushed you.”

“What I just did,” I gently patted her back, slowly feeling her jolting at my every touch start to fade. “Was not ok. I’m not safe right now, and that’s not your fault.”

“I-I wanted you muscular.” She **** a laugh. “I guess I should be careful what I wish for, right? Haha.”

“Charlotte, I’m not a good person.” I felt her tears soak into my shirt. I never had been one, I didn’t think. Well, Mommy, maybe that showed her what she needed to see. Maybe the pills made my fist go through the door. But they certainly didn’t make me punch it in the first place. I started crying, myself, resting my cheek against her silky head.

She was right. She was turning into a glorified sex toy. Was that my fantasy? Really? Was she so eager for such an unimpressive, self-absorbed, evil person that she’d give up on her own humanity to be just a toy. A toy I’d probably take for granted, use, ****, and bore of?

I wasn’t kind. I wasn’t smart. I wasn’t romantic. I was rich, but she couldn’t care less. Did she like that I was so evil? Did it amuse her seeing all the things I could be given and still be unsatisfied? “Why the hell do you do all this? I’m not worth it. I’ve never been worth it.”

She sobbed into my collar bone, hand sliding onto my heart. “Because Mine!” She cried, palming my sternum. “Because you’re the one thing I ever wanted for myself! Why can’t I just have that? I spent my whole life helping other people, doing the right thing, turning the other cheek. Just let me have this! It’s the only thing I ever asked for! I’ve done enough good deeds! I don’t care if there’s better people, nicer people, smarter people; I picked this one! Mine!”

There’s never going to be a good time to tell her this.

“I wasn’t drunk that night you took me home.”