The perfect wife

Dave hears a snap of fingers, like a distant echo that pierces the veil of his mind, and it is as if he is waking from a nightmare. His heavy eyelids open slowly, revealing a room illuminated by the soft light of dawn. The environment is strange, still hazy from his blurred vision and the confusion in his mind. He tries to remember what happened. The last clear memory is of a heated argument with his boss, the man who had just discovered the affair that Dave was having with his wife. The boss's parting words echo in his head, now with a dark weight: "You will pay me."

Relieved to believe that it was all just a nightmare, Dave instinctively puts his hand to his chest, trying to calm his agitated breathing. But what he feels is not the familiar touch of her skin against his shirt, but an unusual softness, a smoothness that makes him freeze. He presses again, feeling the rounded shape... breasts. The satin fabric that brushes against his fingers seems to draw strange contours on his body. The sensation is so vivid that a chill runs down his spine.

His gaze wanders around the room, still confused, and nothing there seems familiar. The curtains, the furniture, the colors—nothing fits with his home. The discomfort turns to panic, and he turns his head to the side. That's when he sees it. There, lying next to him, his boss rests, his smile seems to widen with a cruel touch of satisfaction.

Dave's heart races, and his breathing quickens. He backs away, almost falling off the bed, toward the mirror in the corner of the room. Fear seizes him as his feet touch the cold floor. He stares at the reflection, and the shock hits him like a lightning bolt. The face that looks back at him is not his own.

It's a woman. Not just any woman, but Dana, his boss's wife, the woman he had been having the affair with. The blond hair, the feminine curves, the painted lips... everything there is a distorted and horrifying version of what he should be. His trembling hands pass over the soft and delicate features of a face that is not his, feeling the texture of the soft skin, the eyes now wide in a mixture of disbelief and terror.

He tries to speak, but his voice, soft and feminine, only reinforces the horror of the transformation. "What... what did you do to me?" he asks, almost choking on the words that now sound strange in his mouth.

His boss, still lying down with a malicious smile, answers without haste, as if he were savoring every moment. "I told you that you would pay me, Dave... or rather, Dana."

Dave’s, as he insisted on calling himself—breathing became more rapid, his chest rising and falling with the pressure of panic that threatened to suffocate him. But as he stared at the woman’s reflection in the mirror, something strange began to happen. A wave of familiarity washed over him, as if this wasn’t the first time he had seen that face in the mirror. Small flashes of memory began to emerge, confused and fragmented. He remembered being in that body for over a week. It was as if a veil had been lifted, and slowly the images of the past few days began to merge with his consciousness, invading his mind like scattered pieces of a puzzle.

He hadn’t been fully present. It was as if he had been operating on autopilot, his mind stuck somewhere, watching from afar as another part of him—or rather, her—took control of his life. The routine, the interactions, everything had gone on automatically, as if he had been a mere spectator of his own actions, a co-pilot unable to change direction. But now, in control, the memories revealed themselves with disconcerting clarity.

Dave's stomach clenched as he remembered the night before—not as a distant dream, but as something he had experienced himself, in the flesh. He remembered being here, in this very room, with the man he had spent years betraying and despising. But last night... that night... they had not been enemies. He felt the heat rising in his face as he remembered his boss's hands exploring every inch of his new skin, the whispers of desire that had escaped his own feminine lips, their bodies intertwined in a passion that seemed to have no place in his previous reality.

The memory of that night came back in uncomfortably vivid detail: the texture of the sheets, the heat of his boss's skin against his, the weight of his male body on his new, vulnerable female one. Dave’s stomach churned with disgust, mixed with a strange confusion. He felt bile rise, but he didn’t know if it was from the horror of the situation or something more disturbing… part of him had enjoyed it. Something about Dana’s body, the way she—he?—was reacting, seemed to have taken over, making him feel things he would never have admitted before.

“Oh my God,” Dave murmured, his voice too thin and soft for his mind still accustomed to the masculine tone. “What happened to me?”

His boss, who was now sitting on the bed, watched with a look that was part triumph and part curiosity. “You’ll remember, Dana,” he said quietly, as if savoring every word. “I gave you a new life. A chance to feel what it was like to be yourself… with a little help, of course.” He laughed, the sound muffled and sinister.

Dave squeezed his eyes shut, trying to push the memories away, but they kept seeping in like poison. He remembered conversations he’d never had as Dave, interactions with his boss that felt too intimate, too natural, to be recent. As if Dana, the woman he now saw himself as, had once lived alongside him, loved and laughed and, yes, betrayed him, but in a way that felt perversely opposite to what he’d done before.

Dave’s head was spinning with the overload of conflicting memories and sensations. He gripped the edge of the dresser, trying not to collapse under the weight of what was happening. It was real. He’d been trapped in this body for over a week, living someone else’s life, out of control. But now, now he was awake, aware of himself again, and that only made it worse.

The boss got up from the bed, walking slowly toward him, each step calculated, predatory. The smile never left his face, as if he was savoring Dave’s anguish. When he stopped in front of him, the man leaned in slightly, watching him with a look that was both amusement and menace.

“I see the memories are coming back, don’t you?” he said, crossing his arms. “Last night… you remember everything now, don’t you? Every touch, every sigh. And best of all,” the boss chuckled, moving closer, “you were the one who asked for more.”

Dave felt his stomach churn again, his face burning with shame and humiliation. He wanted to scream, to deny it, but the memories were so vivid, so incredibly real. It was true. That night, he—or Dana—had given himself completely. Something inside her, or maybe inside him, had wanted this. It was the cruelest revenge: to feel the same desire that had once betrayed him.

“Why?” Dave’s voice was shaky, almost a whisper, but still feminine. He barely recognized himself. “Why did you do this to me?”

The boss smiled again, this time calmer, as if he were explaining something simple. “I told you that you would pay me, Dave. You stole my trust, my woman, and you thought you could get away with it. But you see, I’m smarter than that. Now you know what it’s like to be deceived, what it’s like to be betrayed… and worse, what it’s like to desire someone you despised.”

He paused, looking Dave up and down, and continued: “But you see, I’m a generous man. Now that you’re fully conscious, we can make a deal. I’ll keep you out of that trance…and you’ll keep playing your role. The perfect, devoted, loving wife. The role that’s now yours.”

Dave looked at him in disbelief. “You want me to…keep playing this? Forever?”

The boss shrugged casually. “It’s up to you. I can send you back into the trance, where you’ll be just an observer in your own body. Or you can stay as you are now, aware of everything, as long as you obey me. As long as you’re Dana, my devoted, perfect wife.” He leaned closer, his eyes boring into Dave’s. “You’ll do everything I tell you. Behave. And who knows, in time, you might even start to enjoy it.”

Dave felt a lump form in his throat. The proposition was terrible, but the alternative—losing control of himself, going back into the trance, being a puppet in his own skin—was even worse. He already knew what it was like. Days passing in flashes, memories fragmented, as if he were watching his own life from afar, helpless. This wasn’t living; it was being a prisoner.

He swallowed hard. Every fiber of his being screamed to fight, to resist. But looking at his boss, feeling the weight of his new reality, he realized he had no choice.

“I… I’ll do what you want,” he whispered, his voice wavering, the bitter taste of submission in his mouth. “I’ll behave.”

The boss smiled, satisfied, as if he had known Dave would come to this conclusion all along. He reached up and, with a gentle touch, caressed Dana’s face. “Good girl. Now go get dressed. We have company tonight, and I want you to look stunning.”

With those words, the boss walked away, leaving Dave standing there in front of the mirror, staring at Dana’s reflection. The horror and humiliation remained, but now they were mixed with a new feeling: resignation. He knew that somehow this body was no longer temporary, and that his new life depended on his obedience. With a heavy sigh, he stepped away from the mirror, his trembling hands sliding over the silk covering his body. As much as he hated this, he knew he had no choice. Dana would be the perfect wife…at least for now.