No, she doesn't remember where the first aid kit is

EDIT 04/2023: Imgur is deleting a lot of pictures soon. If you see less than seven below, click https://archive.is/TM0V8

The first aid kit isn't in the upstairs bathroom.

The wife stares at the cabinet, eyes wide, very wide. Toothpaste. Cosmetics. Floss. No first aid kit. Because - baka no onna! - the first aid kit would be too big to fit.

So we left it in the closet. After that camping trip.

It's not on the top shelf. It's not in the lower section either either. It's not under the bed, or the drawers, or the dresser-

Because it was the hall closet.

Downstairs, the husband sits on the couch and licks his lips. They feel strange. They taste strange.

The wife trips on her way down the stairs, grabs the rail, doesn't fall. "B-baby?"

"I'm...I'm still here. More or less."

She inches her way toward the living room. He's sitting on the couch. Is his beard thinner? What's going on with his lips?

"What's wrong?"

"It was in the hall closet."

"...Right."

"You're...really calm."

"...Huh."

Stupid. It's a stupid thing to say.

It's in the hall closet. In her backpack. She holds it in her hands, her shaking hands. Is this going to do any good?

She turns around, screams, leaps back and falls down. Luckily, the mess cushions her fall. Unluckily, the thing her husband has become is blocking her way out of the closet.

She cringes, curls up, waits for him to pounce-

And nothing happens.

She peeks.

He's just standing there. There's this smell, this strange smell in the air...

Her husband isn't forcing her.

He wants me to do it. He wants me to make the choice.

She licks her lips.

She doesn't really decide to lean in.

It's more like gravity.

It doesn't take right away, of course. There's a part of her that says this is wrong, even after she grows a cock of her own, rubs it against her...husband's? Wife's?

Does it even matter anymore?

Part of her screams that she's a freak now. Something wrong. Something dirty. And the greater part of her agrees.

She just doesn't care.

Unless you count that's so hot.

And I should share this. With everyone.

And the screaming part, the boring old her, gets quieter and quieter.

As soon as I'm done jerking.

Eventually, she stops worrying about what's happening to her. About her husband. About the world.

She's not worried about anything, anymore.