Let her sleep.

For a long time, I just stare at her. Or rather, at the bundle of sheets wrapped around her shape.

This can’t be real.

But it is, obviously.

My mind goes back and forth, evaluating the situation, thinking of possibilities, of ramifications, of implications how this could change my life. Some arouse me, others terrify me. The impracticality and unsustainable nature of vamprisim churns in my mind, yet a part of me is excited. Other parts of me... denial.

Not real, none of it.

Eventually, I just feel numb. My mind has exhausted itself with worry. At some point I find that I sat down on the fainting couch in our room, but I don’t remember doing it.

My eyes burn, I realize, still staring at the lump of bedsheets that obscure my wife... my vampire wife... I blink, and then close them as they tear up from the strain. A more simple and immediate thought enters my mind. Is she even still my wife?

I look up, with a renewed focus and path forward. I did wish for this, and no matter what, she’s my wife and I need to take care of her.

I stand up, assuming this must be real, and walk into the bathroom. I grab a few towels, and drop them in front of the bedroom windows. I grab a hammer and some small nails from another room, then head back and do what I can to get the windows covered up.

After a few minutes, the room seems dark enough, and there is no direct sunlight to speak of. It’s certainly not a professional job, and honestly looks downright shitty, but it will have to do.

I sigh.

I need to find out if that’s enough to make her more comfortable...

I walk over to the lump of bedsheets, and look down, nervously.

Very carefully, I pull on the sheets. I find her hand first, still holding the bedsheets tightly, but it has returned to it’s soft, delicate form. I take it carefully, and examine it. It is no longer the clawed hand of a predator... and no sign at all that it could change the way it did. I shrug, and pull her hand out, very slowly, exposing it to more of the ambient light in the room.

No reaction to indirect sunlight... or so it seems.

I pull the sheets away some more, revealing one of her soft, ample boobs. My desires for her stir, seeing her much changed, more youthful body. I touch myself for a moment, losing myself in her beauty, but then quickly move on, stopping my mastubatory tendencies. I reach up and slowly pull the covers from her face.

I glide my hand along her cheek, brushing the disheveled hair aside and admiring her smooth flawless skin that has lost the last 10 years of aging. To my surprise, she responds, smiling sweetly and leaning into the palm of my hand without opening her eyes.

Still no reaction to the ambient light in the room, I note.

I tilt her head slightly, careful not to wake her, and confirm the vampire bite on her neck. The perfect twin round punctures leaves no doubt in my mind. I decide to not press my luck this time, and not disturb her further.

Maybe, if I’m lucky, this will work out like I wished for. The thought fills me with a terrified arousal.

I’ll be even luckier if it doesn’t trigger a widespread vampire apocalypse. The pessimist in me sighs.

I watch her for a moment, and feel confident the sun’s rays are no longer a problem in our bedroom. I step back, knowing she is comfortable, and leave her be until the sun sets.

I cling to the hope that she is still my wife inside, and bears me no ill will for what happened earlier.