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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/CBenson1273 on 2024-10-24 17:10:58+00:00.

My husband’s thirtieth birthday was coming up, and I wanted to do something special for him. He’s always a bit cagey about asking for what he wants, but this time, when I asked, he had an immediate answer.

“Would you be open to a threesome?”

…

What?

He must have seen the look on my face, because he immediately went into clean-up mode. I was more than enough for him, it was just something he’d always wanted to try, it could really spice up our love life (which was already pretty great, I thought), he understood if I wasn’t comfortable with it but he really thought it could be amazing for us - he just kept laying it on.

I told him I needed to think about it, and he seemed to understand.

After taking a couple of days and talking to my sister, I told him that I’d be willing to try it one time and we’d see how it went. He was thrilled - he immediately started going on about this one person who he knew might be open to it. At that point, I thought to myself, if her name came immediately to mind, is there already something going on? But I dismissed the thought as nerve-induced paranoia.

We negotiated some ground rules and he set up a meeting. When I got there, the first thing I noticed was how much she looked like me. He definitely had a type. We talked, and she seemed pleasant enough, so we made plans for the following Saturday night.

When Jenny arrived, we sat around chatting nervously and drinking wine (mostly me), and then we got to it. I was nervous, but I think it went ok. My husband paid sufficient attention to me, stuck to our rules, and seemed to have a good time. In the morning, we said goodbye and sent her on her way.

But then he began asking when we could do it again. I reminded him that I’d said one, but then he asked “didn’t you have a good time?” And the pressure started. I also noted that my hair was a little shorter in one spot, and there was a locket I couldn’t find. But it wasn’t a big deal - I just wanted to get back to our normal life.

The next week, we were out when we ran into Jenny at the store. We got to talking, and she asked if we’d be up for a repeat. My husband said absolutely - when we left I asked him what the hell he was doing, but he just said he thought I’d be into it. After several conversations, I gave in and we scheduled another get-together.

This one also went well, and we bid her farewell. We then ran into Jenny again the following week, and I couldn’t help but notice that she looked even more like me than she had before. Her hair had darkened to match my shade, and her lips seemed a little… fuller? Like mine. I mentioned it to my husband, but he said I should take it as a compliment - she probably just liked my look.

The next week I was out running some errands and I saw her. I started to go up and say hello, but something told me to hang back. And lo and behold, who should come walking up to her but my husband, who leaned over and gave her a kiss.

That asshole.

I decided to eavesdrop, and I heard him saying that everything was going according to plan. He said that the wine has worked perfectly and that he’d have more samples later to follow the hair and the locket. At that point, I had no idea what the hell was going on, but I had a bad feeling.

Later that night, my husband suggested another get-together. I thought about calling him out, but at this point I wanted to know what the hell was going on so I decided to play along.

When she came over this time, I pretended to drink the wine but spit it out before we started. Then we went to the bedroom. This time he seemed more into her than me, which hurt, but I was done trusting him at this point.

Afterward, I pretended to sleep. And I noticed him cutting off more of my hair and swabbing my skin, and then leaving the room with her. I tried to follow and listen, but I could only hear some of the conversation - “the process” and “metamorphosis” and “almost ready.” I went back to bed and lay down, utterly confused.

The next day, while he was at work, I went into his office and, after an extensive search, found a hidden drawer with a book entitled “How To Make The Perfect Wife.”

What the fuck?

I read a bit - it was about using magic and science to create an exact replica of your current wife, but better.

Was this real? How dare he!

My mother always said to us girls “don’t get mad, get even.” She was a smart woman - it was time I listened.

The next weekend we had Jenny over again. But this time, after we were finished, I woke up tied to a rack in the middle of the room.

“I’m sorry dear,” said my husband, “but this just isn’t working out. It’s not me, it’s you. But don’t worry - soon I’ll have a better you!”

With that, he gave a potion to “Jenny” and she began to morph.

Into an exact copy of him.

The look of shock on his face was one of my favorite sights ever.

“Surprised, ‘dear?’ Yes, I discovered your ruse. Would it surprise you to learn that the last batch was filled with your DNA, not mine?”

Then I looked over at the thing formerly known as Jenny. “Kill him.” And it did. Violently.

I woke up the next morning, cuddled with James. He made me breakfast and asked about my day, all while telling me he loved me.

He was the perfect husband.