No, but she’s awake before he can corner her.

Ernest saw all the damage he had wrought upon his quiet hometown on the streets, though some of it had already cleared out: sex-crazed families and couples had finished their ruts and, on checking a watch or realizing the time, remembered they'd be late for one thing or another based on how slow they were "driving" to their destinations. Even stopping at lights treated Ernest to scenes of **** kissing, groping, ****, and other pairings and intimate acts clearly pressed beyond the boundaries of normal society.

Ernest had tremendously fucked something up about the world, but he still struggled to figure out why. He had wished away his pheromones, hadn't he? If somehow he had failed to do so, then that could explain what was happening: he never wished the world to descend into sexual madness, after all, so maybe his pheromones somehow grew so powerful that they spread throughout the world like some kind of plague. It was his best theory, unfortunately; the wording of his clumsy wish was forgotten.

It wasn't until he was halfway there that he thought to actually call Jessica; she hadn't called him, and maybe she'd ignore his phone if he did try, but he had to try. Unfortunately, she refused to pick up--or maybe couldn't pick up?-- the three times he managed to try her number before he was already entering her part of town.

Jessica's neighborhood was barely better: gardening staff and housewives had fallen into outdoor orgies as dirty laborers worked hard to impregnate lonely wives. Unseen via Ernest's drive were the pool boys rutting maids, or each other, and the odd female staffer getting fucked in every hole by her co-workers. Soft, distant moans framed most of the trip... until he arrived to the quiet house of Jessica Edwards.

The house was impeccable, and its walls tall... but the driveway was empty save an old BMW Jessica's dad used to teach her how to drive. By some miracle, today was not a day for gardeners or pool cleaners to come to the Edwards household. Ernest turned his car off and slowly stepped out of it, his shirt and pants making uncomfortable, sticky noises as he left the seat. He hoped cum would come out of leather or, if this was not all for naught, that he could just wish it clean once he got the ring back.

He closed the car door softly as he approached; as part of his new car habit, he clicked the key fob twice... causing the car to honk in confirmation of the lock. He flinched at the sudden, loud noise. "Jesus-! Relax, Ernest... nothing suspicious about you locking your car..."

Honk!

Jessica's eyes eased open. That sound was unfamiliar, distant... but it was enough to stir her from her wish-enhanced slumber. She was completely refreshed and just in time to have her wretched reality flood back into her conscience. She sprang out of bed, worryingly clutching at the wooden box that contained that accursed ring... and with an alarmed glance at her door, slowly tip-toed towards it. The sound was close... was someone here? Who'd be at her house on a Thursday? Certainly not the gardeners-

Her door eased open... just as the front door below clicked as well.

Someone was entering her house.

Daring to be the burglar, Ernest tested the right knob of the double doors... and found it unlocked. Slowly, he pushed the door open... and found himself in a silent house. From where he stood, he could see the unused bottles of sodas, party cups, and other neatly stacked supplies on the kitchen counter across the main hall; his eyes followed the spiraling staircase up towards the wooden railways of the walkway above.

He thought to whisper a greeting... a warning... or anything that would make sure he didn't get shot by some unknown sibling or houseguest thinking him an intruder. I guess technically I am an intruder... The social norms were breaking one by one, but he had steeled his resolve already: that ring had to be his, and if that meant risking an awkward flight from the house then so be it.

Where would Jessica be, if she was even here? He decided she must be in one of the bedrooms and, after softly closing the door behind him, ascended the stairs.

Jesus fucking Christ, why is he in my house?! Jessica was in a panic. She had cautiously closed her door and began a panicked dance as she glanced between every corner of her bedroom. He was coming up the stairs... and if he had somehow figured out her bedroom, he'd come right in seconds from now! Jessica had to find a place to hide, and fast! She glanced between the window, the bathroom, her bedroom door--still unlocked!--and all the furniture that seemed like poor choices to try and hide behind or under.

Despite her worry, it actually took Ernest a full minute to go room by room, glancing inside them as he went, until he found the only closed door on the entire floor. This had to be it, he decided, and he was right: Jessica's bedroom waited for him behind this simple barrier.

He reached for the doorknob...