College Chastity Choice Game 2

I always liked the story of Schrodinger's cat even if I never fully understood it. I am an attorney, not a physicist.

You put a cat in a box with a vial of poison gas, and over it, a hammer connector to a quantum detector or something. So, either it detected the quantum event and the cat is dead, or it didn't and the cat is alive.

Well, until the box is opened and the quantum even is resolved, the cat is both alive and dead and opening it collapses the event into a single one, where the cat is either alive or dead.

So, until the elevator doors open, my wife will either have had a bad day, or a horrible day and until the doors open, both realities coexist and opening them collapses them into a single one.

Granted, it's not as simple as alive or dead. There is a whole spectrum of how bad things might have gone.

The doors open.

I look around. No mess in the lobby. This means it wasn't an average day. Some days, she barely gets out of bed and thus, no mess in the lobby. Some days, she is functional and cleaned up, so, no mess in the lobby.

But most of the days, she tried to get out of the house and brought either shopping bags, or recycling to bring downstairs which are still there when she was stopped by a panic attack.

But not today. Not today.

I step out of the elevator. It's a common one, but you need a key to ride to my penthouse. It's annoying. Sometimes, I ride up, and someone gets into the elevator to go down when it's riding up. This means they get to peek into my condo.

When I bought, the price and the size were his main arguments... but then, Luna wasn't sick yet. She wasn't stable. But not sick yet.

I step in the living room. Nothing. I put my briefcase by the sofa.

I can hear nothing, so I call out to Luna, but hear nothing back. Could she have left? That would be a victory. But then, could the day have been horrible, and perhaps I will find her in the bathtub with her veins open.

No, Steven, think positive thoughts. But still, when I get by the bathroom I check inside. The washer is running, which is a big surprise, it means Luna was good enough to actually do the laundry. The drier buzzes once. That means it ran, completed, and every few minutes will buzz to remind you to get the load off.

This also means that she did more than one load, which is... good. This might be a good day.

Steven hears some noise in the kitchen, so he slowly walks to it and see Luna, washing the floor with a mop, wearing a big comfy pajama and her Bluetooth headset.

She is concentrated on the task of cleaning the floor.

Her hair is a mess, and she is barefoot, but the little glimpses I see of her face has her looking at the floor, smiling and boobing her head to whatever music she is listening to.

I call out for her, but she is fully immersed in her music. Her phone, however, is on the table, not far from me, so I go to it, and from the lock screen, I can pause the music.

Instantly, she turns and looks at me, with the bottle of wine.

"Steven!", she says, in a high tone. She puts the mop aside. I put the bottle of wine on the table, and she runs to my arms, kissing me.

"Hi Luna"

"You can home too fast. The chicken isn't ready. Don't worry. I'll make a salad. Sit down, I'll take care of you", she says.

But something is wrong. "While I was waiting I realized I didn't remember when I last washed the floor, so I washed it"

"It was washed two days ago", I say, worried.

"It was? I don't recall."

That because I did it. She couldn't get out of bed back then.

"Oh well, it's not like I will break the floor", she says, laughing.

And there, in her laugh, I can hear it.

"How many did you take?", I ask

"What? I only took one, Steven. It's an anti-depressant, not Advil."

So, I leave her side and go to the bathroom, while she yells my name, and claims she is back to normal, shouldn't he be happy?

But she isn't normal. She is hyper, which is a side effect of antidepressants when you take too much. It sort of eliminates all worries and confusions so that you end up doing too much while being too happy or something.

I bring back the bottle to the kitchen, and spill the pills on the table.

"Why can't you trust me, Steven. You used to trust me"

"Yes, Luna. And I still do! Didn't I ask you for help for a patent proofing just a few days ago?"

"You did, but you are counting my pills"

"I trust Luna, it's your sickness I don't trust", I tell her, as calm as I can

"It's not cancer. It's not a separate entity in me. It's just me, broken", she says, but she begins to cry.

Hyper doesn't mean just happy. It can sometime mean extreme mood swings. All I want is a few more seconds to finish counting. I always count them before I leave. There were 23 when I left. There, I count 20. Only 20. She took three, in only a few hours.

I hold her in my arms.

"You took three Luna, so you are hyper. Don't worry, I love you, and I am sure supper will be delicious", while making a note to check the over as fast a possible.

"But I only took one", she says, pulling away.

"And I believe you, Luna. When did you take it?"

"At breakfast! While my toasts were in the toaster. No, wait, after my toasts, as I am supposed to eat with food, for my stomach, you know?"

"Don't you usually take them with your orange juice glass?"

"Right, but not this morning. Wait, did I?", she says, all confused.

"Is it possible to took one while preparing breakfast, while in brain fog, took another one with your toasts, and the third one with your orange juice, each time thinking it was the first one of the day?", I ask.

"No. Wait, did I? I am so sorry, Steven. I knew you had a great day, I wanted to be well for you"

"Shall we check on the chicken?", I say

"I did start the timer. Look", she says, running to the oven and giving it to me. But I check, and the oven is off.

"When did you put it in?"

"I set it for 90 minutes"

I check, and there is 1:23 left. The chicken was in the oven only 7 minutes. It's a good thing I returned quickly.

"How long was it on the counter for?", she checks and sees that the oven is off, and swears.

"I am so sorry"

"It might not be too late"

"I know you won't believe me if I tell you I just took it out, so open it and touch it, If it's still cold, we can save it", she says

So I do. And it is indeed still cold enough. I take it out, and we preheat the oven, while she begins sobbing.

"Don't feel sorry, Luna."

"Can you just leave me one pill in the future?", she says, after calming down, after the chicken went into the oven, and the timer was reset.

"I'll do that. I should have done that a long time ago"

"It's my fault, not yours.", she says, sitting on the floor. It always calmed her down. Even in college, back before... well, before this.

Back when we were happy.

"I am a screw-up, aren't I?", she says

I sit beside her.

"Of course not, Luna. You are just having a hard time"

"I can barely write, I can't get out of the house. I can't function as a wife reliably. When is the last time I unlocked your chastity device, Steven? Do you even remember?"

I do. It's been a while.

"It doesn't matter. The anti-depressant affects your sex drive"

"Steven, I am making zero progress. I still get mood swings, I still can't go out. I still get scare of the elevator door. I still have days stuck in bed. But unlike before the pill, We don't even fuck anymore. I have zero improvements but now, I am closed off sexually."

That is true.

"So what are you saying?", I tell her

"I think I will stop them. Today is a warning. It's artificial. I can't function at all, with or without then, but with them, you are stuck in chastity"

"I don't mind waiting"

"Steven, the True Goddess Movement was something wild we did in college. In college. We graduated. I could give you the key"

"So I can just masturbate?"

"No, so you can do like my mother and get a girlfriend to see. Hey, maybe I might have a good evening, and we could have a threesome between the three of us, like we had in college with Riley. No wait, like with Jessica. Riley didn't care about you, but Jessica liked you, didn't she?", says my wife

"I don't want other women than you."

"Then get a boyfriend. You enjoyed that guy, what was his name, who sodomized you in chastity. That was fun. You liked it, I liked it. We saw him a few times. I even had sex with him. Well, he sodomized me. Oh God, why I can't do I that anymore, Steven? We were wild and free"

"It's when we moved to New York that something snapped in you"

"I know! And none of the shrinks have any ideas why"

I don't either. But we still talk.