Charlotte was in the middle of folding laundry when the doorbell rang. You were perched on the edge of the bed, your fabric form still feeling alien even after a full day of adjusting. She glanced at you, her expression unreadable, before heading downstairs. “Stay here for a second,” she said, her voice steady but her eyes betraying a flicker of anxiety.
You couldn’t help but wonder who it could be. Was it Amelia? You hadn’t seen her since the gathering, and the thought of her made you uneasy. The memory of Greg’s muffled voice from inside that sock lingered in your mind, a stark reminder of what could happen if Charlotte ever decided she didn’t want to keep up with this bizarre situation.
Charlotte’s voice carried up the stairs, light-hearted and cheerful. “Amelia! Come in, come in! I wasn’t expecting you today.”
You strained to hear Amelia’s response. “I just had to come over. You won’t believe what I did.”
There was a pause, and then Charlotte’s laughter echoed through the house. “What? What did you do?”
Amelia’s tone was almost giddy. “I donated Greg to Goodwill.”
The room fell silent. Your stomach—or what you imagined was your stomach—dropped. She what?
“You… what?” Charlotte’s voice was incredulous, but there was a hint of something else. Curiosity, maybe. Or relief.
“I donated him,” Amelia repeated, her voice steady now. “I was tired of carrying him around, worrying about where I put him, making sure he didn’t get lost or damaged. It was exhausting, Charlotte. And now… I feel free. Like I can finally live my life again.”
Charlotte didn’t respond right away. You could hear the soft murmur of their voices as they moved into the kitchen, and then the clink of glasses. They’re having wine, you realized. Of course they were.
You couldn’t just sit there. You had to know what was going on. “Charlotte!” you called out, your voice muffled by the distance.
But she didn’t come.
Instead, you heard Amelia’s voice again, softer this time. “You should consider doing the same thing. I mean, Oliver’s… well, he’s a thong, Charlotte. How long are you going to keep him around before it gets too much?”
There was another pause, and then Charlotte’s voice, firm but uncertain. “I can’t do that, Amelia. He’s my husband.”
“And Greg was mine,” Amelia shot back. “But look at us now. We’re free to live our lives without having to worry about… about this. It’s not fair to either of you to keep pretending like this is normal.”
“I’m not pretending,” Charlotte said, her voice rising slightly. “I’m just… trying to figure it out.”
Amelia sighed. “I’m not saying you have to decide today. I’m just saying… think about it. Really think about it. For both of your sakes.”
The conversation shifted after that, lighter topics taking the place of the heavy one they’d just broached. But you couldn’t shake the unease that settled over you. Would Charlotte really do it? Would she donate me to Goodwill, just like Amelia did with Greg?
When Charlotte finally came back upstairs, she looked conflicted. She picked you up gently, her fingers brushing against your fabric. “Hey,” she said softly. “You heard that, huh?”
You nodded, or at least you tried to. “Yeah. I heard.”
She sighed, sitting down on the bed with you in her lap. “I’m not going to do that, Oliver. I promise.”
Her words were reassuring, but there was a flicker of doubt in her eyes. You wanted to believe her, but the thought lingered, gnawing at you.
“I believe you,” you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt.
She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Good. Now, let’s get you cleaned up. You’ve been sitting here all day.”
She carried you to the bathroom, setting you down on the counter while she ran the water. You watched her as she moved, her tall frame graceful even when she wasn’t trying. She was still the same Charlotte, but there was something different about her now. Something distant.
“Charlotte,” you said softly.
She turned to look at you, her brow furrowed. “What?”
“Are you… are you really okay with this? With me being… like this?”
She hesitated, her hand hovering over the faucet. “I don’t know,” she admitted after a moment. “I mean, it’s… it’s a lot to process. But I’m trying, Oliver. I really am.”
“I know,” you said. “And I appreciate that. I just… I don’t want to be a burden.”
“You’re not a burden,” she said quickly, her voice firm. “You’re my husband. And no matter what happens, that’s not going to change.”
Her words were comforting, but they didn’t erase the doubt that had taken root in your mind.
She finished cleaning you, her hands gentle as she worked. It was strange, being handled like this, but there was something almost intimate about the way she touched you. When she was done, she held you up, inspecting you. “There. Good as new.”
You wanted to say something, anything, to break the tension that had settled between you. But before you could, she set you down on the bed and started to undress.
You’d seen her naked countless times before, but this… this was different. She was still beautiful, her curves as mesmerizing as ever, but now there was an awkwardness to the situation that hadn’t been there before. She caught you staring and smirked. “What? You’ve seen it all before.”
“Yeah,” you admitted. “But it’s… different now.”
She laughed, the sound light and carefree. “I guess it is. But hey, at least you’re still here. That’s something, right?”
“Yeah,” you said softly. “That’s something.”
She finished undressing and reached for you, holding you up. “So… I’ve been thinking. Maybe it’s time I start wearing you. You know, just around the house. To get used to it.”
Your heart skipped a beat. “Really?”
“Yeah,” she said, her tone casual but her eyes betraying her nerves. “I mean, you’re my husband. And if I’m going to keep you around, I should at least try to make this work.”
You wanted to say something, but before you could, she was sliding you on. The sensation was… strange. You were pressed against her skin, the warmth of her body enveloping you. It was intimate in a way you hadn’t expected, and yet… there was something unsettling about it too.
“How does it feel?” she asked, her voice soft.
“It’s… different,” you admitted.
She laughed, the sound light and airy. “I bet it is.”
She moved around the room, adjusting to the feeling of having you pressed against her. You could feel every movement, every shift of her body. It was overwhelming, but there was something strangely comforting about it too.
“This isn’t so bad,” she said after a moment, her tone thoughtful. “I mean, it’s still weird, but… it’s not as bad as I thought it would be.”
“I’m glad,” you said softly.
She smiled, her hand brushing against you. “Me too.”
But as she continued to move around the room, the unease that had been growing in you didn’t go away. Because no matter how much she tried to reassure you, the thought lingered in your mind: How long would it be before she changed her mind?
“Charlotte,” you said softly.
She turned to look at you, her brow furrowed. “What?”
“I just… I need to know. Are you really okay with this? With us being… like this?”
She hesitated, her hand stilling. “I don’t know,” she admitted after a moment. “But I’m trying, Oliver. That’s all I can do.”
“I know,” you said. “And I appreciate that. But I just… I need to know that you’re not going to—”
“Don’t say it,” she interrupted, her voice firm. “I’m not going to do that. Not now, not ever. You’re my husband, and that’s not going to change.”
Her words were reassuring, but they didn’t erase the doubt that had taken root in your mind. Because no matter how much she tried to pretend otherwise, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning.
And you had no idea where it would end.
She stood there for a moment, her hand resting on you, before she finally spoke. “Let’s just take it one day at a time, okay?”
“Okay,” you said softly.
But as she moved around the room, the unease that had been growing in you didn’t go away. Because no matter how much she tried to reassure you, the thought lingered in your mind: How long would it be before she changed her mind?
And what would happen then?
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