Phil felt the pull of the moon, the shimmering light telling him to stand. He obeyed, but continued to ignore the calling that buzzed in his ears. I’m staying with April, he thought, until the end.

He was a giant, gazing down from on high at his wife, his love. Something is wrong, he realized. April was sobbing, her face covered in a stream of mascara tears. Phil reached one hand to her, pulling it back when he saw his own flesh covered in thick, coarse, brown hairs.

“Shhh,” he growled to April, placing one finger to his mouth, feeling his own hot, sticky breath. “It’s me. I love you.”

And then Phil realized what he must do. He pushed one jagged, elongated fingernail deep into the soft, white skin of her belly. When he twisted it around, she moaned for him, her sobs those of joy.

She understood, he thought. She knows that this is right and just, that this is the way it has to be.

Phil used the new orifice he had created to pleasure himself, to please both of them, their love finally manifest.