MFS - 6 (Patreon)

"Hair. Gone," she murmured, her voice husky and low. In different circumstances, I might have found it alluring.

"You're still beautiful," I whispered, wrapping my arms around her and kissing her neck. I had to lean down farther than before; her height had diminished along with her humanity.

Patches of her skin had taken on a dusky tone and felt thicker, almost leathery. Dark fur had begun to sprout in certain areas on her torso and legs.

"I'm hideous," she ran her fingers over the patches.

"No, not at all," I reassured her, gently pulling her away from the mirror. "Are you hungry? How about breakfast?"

She smiled and nodded.

Helping her into a bathrobe, I led the way out of the bedroom, holding the door open for her.

She followed, her shorter legs making careful strides. With rounded knees and widening feet, she had to be cautious with each step, steadying herself against the wall due to her larger upper body.

In the kitchen, I prepared a hearty breakfast of pancakes, bacon, eggs, and fruit. She wrinkled her nose at the scent and settled for eating the fruit, plucking each piece with her fingers. Chewing carefully became a necessity as her mouth had undergone changes, resulting in unintentional bites to her tongue.

Over the years of being alone, I had renovated the house extensively. I replaced the kitchen tiles, updated the cupboards, installed shiny new stainless steel appliances, and gradually replaced all the furniture. I wanted Emily to feel at home, a place devoid of echoes from the past. I had boxed up Eric's belongings and stored them in the garage, transforming the nursery into an exercise room and den.

Pausing at the room, Emily's eyes welled up with tears.

"I turned it into an exercise room," I explained.

She nodded, her voice catching. "Looks nice."

"We still have all of his stuff, but I couldn't bear—" I choked up, unable to continue.

She reached up and touched my chin. "You were alone."

I nodded.

"You faced this alone."

"And so did you, love."

She shook her head. "Different on Stellaris. Work. Research. Survival. No time for grief."

"I know, baby."

She nodded and absentmindedly brushed her non-existent hair. A habit.

Approaching the treadmill, she stepped on it.

"Start?" she asked, glancing at the controls.

I helped her find the button and guided her finger to press it. She struggled to control her finger, which worried me deeply.

The treadmill started, and she let out a screeching monkey-like giggle. "Faster!"

I pressed the speed button, and she began to shuffle-walk, steadying herself with her hands on the rails. A wide grin spread across her face, mouth hanging open, as she picked up the pace until she was trotting at a slow jog.

"Stop, please," I requested, hitting the stop button. The treadmill slowed down, and she closed her eyes slightly, attempting to catch her breath.

She hopped off the treadmill and headed to the weights. These weren't traditional weights but rather pulleys with adjustable resistance. She began with bicep curls, and I gradually increased the resistance until she was effortlessly lifting nearly fifty pounds with each arm.

Her arm strength had indeed increased.

"Strong! Me!" she exclaimed, grinning and proceeding to the push-up bar. I set it for ninety pounds, and she swiftly performed several reps. With each set, I added ten pounds until she was lifting over a hundred and forty pounds with ease.

"Strong!" she beat her chest, attempting an imitation of a gorilla.

After a while of exercising, we went out to the backyard and relaxed under the oak tree. I had once envisioned building a treehouse for little Eric.

I poured us glasses of wine and handed one to Emily. She awkwardly held it, spilling some on her robe when she attempted to take a sip.

"I guess we need to find you some proper clothes," I chuckled.

I found a pair of sweatpants that fit relatively well, although I had to shorten them by three inches. Even with her larger upper body, she still swam in the sweatshirt.

After spending some time in the yard, we had dinner and settled on the couch to watch a romantic comedy, cuddling together.

Emily lay in my arms, her eyes fixed on the screen, but confusion masked her face.

"What's wrong, honey?" I asked.

She ran her hand over her head, feeling the dense and coarse hair growing back.

"Talk. Fast."

I hadn't thought I was speaking particularly fast, but she had been slowing down, and I wondered if her comprehension was beginning to decline.

I pulled out a book.

"Can you still read this?" I inquired.

She glanced at the pages.

"Circuit Analysis and Design," she read slowly.

I kissed the top of her scruffy head. "Perfect."

"Anal," she giggled.

"Maybe your auditory processing is slowing down," I pondered.

She nodded. "Hard to form words."

I planted a kiss on her stubbled cheek.

Our fingers intertwined as we watched the movie. Her hand felt smaller, the fingers wrinkled and darker in color.

She turned towards me and our lips met, tongues intertwining.

I didn't know how much longer we could make love without crossing into forbidden territory. Technically, we were already separated by species, but for now, she was still Emily. At least where it mattered. She was still my wife, and we were still in love.

We moved together as one, seeking solace in each other's embrace. I found her sweet spot, making her squirm, and she found mine.

Afterward, we held each other, gasping for breath.

"I love you, baby," I whispered.

"Ook ook ook," she replied.

"Very funny, monkey girl."

"Ook ook!" she said, pointing at her chin. "Ook ook ook!"

"You're scaring me."

"Ook ook!" she pointed at her mouth and emitted a cawing sound, reminiscent of Koko's frustration or anger.

"Please tell me you can still speak!"

She vigorously shook her head and made the "ook ook" sound followed by the caw again.

"But you can still understand me?"

She nodded, then lightly slapped my chest.

"Damn, honey. Maybe your speech will return in the morning."

"Ook ook," she said from beneath the covers.

"Get some sleep," I said. "Things will look better in the morning."

"Ook," she responded from under the covers.

I lay back, feeling unsettled. How would I live without hearing her voice, without talking to her? Even during her mission, we managed to speak nearly every day, despite the long lag times. We needed to find a solution.

And soon.