Clouded Judgement

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Small part of a longer outline I had. Not sure if it’s worth it to expand out, as I kind of like the ambiguity of this section. Let me know if you think I should continue.

“You know, you can still stop this at any time, right?” My wife said with a knowing smirk. At least I think she was my wife, it was getting difficult to focus. Even without the distraction of her impossibly fit body grinding against me. I could barely count on to what was ‘real’.

“You could change everything back and make us all forget this even happened.” She was teasing, not even trying to sell authenticity in the slight whimper that escaped her lips between each sentence.

My ‘wife’ was just teasing out the moment, knowing that in spite of my half-hearted pleas, I wasn’t going to save her. I wasn’t going to save myself.

It was all blurry now. My logical brain kept futility feeding me explanations. ‘Moral corruption.’ ‘Positive feedback loop.’

‘Event horizon’ lingered a second longer than the rest. The point where light couldn’t escape from a black hole. We weren’t completely gone, not yet, but tumbling around and around, closing in on the gaping maw of the inevitable.
The image of a dime spinning on its side, circling down a funnel, behind scratched Plexiglas. Some cloudy memory from childhood. Was it at a library? A bank? I could hear the whirring sound and smell the must of old carpet.

Probably sensing my effort to focus elsewhere, she pulled me back from the faint whiff of nostalgia with a tight squeeze of her hips.

“Is it even real?” she half whispered, again falsely inflecting of concern. “Would you even know what to change me back to? I mean really know?”

As soon as she said that, I knew it was true. Or, rather, I knew it was plausible enough to damn us both.

“I know….” I gasped it in low protest. “I know I changed you, somehow. You’re just saying what I want to hear.”

She pulled back, far enough to look me in clear in the eyes. Far enough for me to once again drink in her curves and tightly fitting clothes. My wife. My girlfriend. My best friend. This unbearably sensual approximation of a woman she once was.

“But did you?” Her face giving a true emotion of sympathy. It was, of course, still an act. It had it be. “I know you think I was someone else. Tell me, who do you think I should be?”

I searched my head. The whirring of that rolling dime nearly drowning out everything outside of her.

“There… there was a tablet?” I stammered, looking straight into her doe eyes. “We had an argument and I changed something using the tablet, earlier tonight. I… I made you more susceptible… suggestible, and you’re not yourself anymore.”

“Honey…” She put her palm on my cheek, pouting.

Some part of my brain, sent up a flag; she’d never called me honey before. It was wrong.

“Honey, I know you think that, but do you really know? Can you remember what I looked like?”

“I… I know what you looked like.” I closed my eyes to focus. The coin was speeding up, getting faster, closer to the black hole. “You were… my girlfriend? Or my friend? My crush? You had your hair back in a ponytail.”

I felt as she leaned in and started kissing my neck. I could fairly conjure up a dirty blonde girl, no woman, with a marathon number pinned to her chest.

“You ran. Track or cross country? You were skinny… Ummm…. Flat but…”

She grabbed my crotch through my jeans. “But hot?” she breathed. “You really wanted to fuck me, all sweaty and flushed like that.” She moaned softly and started moving her hand up my stomach. I kept my eyes closed, trying to focus, but it was impossible. “You really just wanted to take me.”

I was beyond words, beyond replying.

“Maybe this is just my doing? Maybe that mousy girl just wanted someone to force her to be the slut she wanted to be.” She pushed me back on the ground, slowly. “That’s all she wanted. Deep. Down. To be your slut.”

“Fuuuuuuck.” I managed. The coin was just tumbling now, clanking against the plastic. “God damn you.”

Opening my eyes, I pushed her back with the smallest force. She was enjoying dragging this out, seeing me struggle. I think that’s what part of me wanted too.

She leaned back, cross legged. Damn it, she was so beautiful it was overwhelming. I stared at the ground between us, again trying to focus.

“Maybe I’m just something you created?” I could hear the smirk in her voice without even seeing her mouth. “If things can change this much, if you’re so disoriented, who knows how things got like this? Maybe I wanted you to do this, so I made you forget. Maybe you made yourself forget how we got here, so you could feel the guilt and desire… it’s so fucking hot, right?”

I was in free-fall now. I wanted to believe her, I wanted the excuse to just give in. She must have seen the resistance draining. She leaned forward, crawling toward me while kept pushing me with poison words.

“You don’t know how to fix it, so don’t try. I mean, who will I become? Some little bitch you barely remember?” She pulled my face to look at hers. The sincerity in her eyes, the impossible fear was disarming.

“Please.” she was suddenly on the verge of crying “Please don’t do it. You’re scaring me. Don’t make change me.”

I couldn’t think of anything to say. I knew it was probably just a trick, but how could I know for sure? Here she was, terrified and begging me.

And I nodded.

A smile broke just as the first tear trickled down her cheek. She sniffled. Impossibly cute, impossibly sincere, impossibly grateful.

“You promise?”

I nodded again, sighing, giving in to her. She held me tight and breathed deeply in my ear.

“Thank you. Thank you. I was so worried.”

She put her hand under my shirt as I started to kiss her tears off her cheek.

“I was so worried you were going to change me,” she whispered. God, her smell… her pheromones… they were intoxicating. Her mouth brushing against my own neck, I could feel the smile spread wider on her lips. “I was worried we weren’t going to get to play.”

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