A dark caption.

Francis nearly screamed. That was not his wife! It was her clothes, and, oh god, were those stitches? That meant...

"Oh god! Where is she?"

The old man stopped and turned, putting a feminine hand on his hip.

"Her body or her head?" He said. There was no smile, no gloating. "Because I think you can figure out where her body is."

"Her head! What have you done with it?"

"Well, your wife, we attached my head onto her body. Grafted her spinal column with what was left of mine. Stitched the rest up. We had no need for her head."

The old man sat down on a nearby couch, vressing legs, rubbing a hand against a nyloned knee.

"Her head is gone. I do not enjoy being the bearer of that news, but I did want her body, so this was the only way."

"Why?" He barely managed to ask.

"It feels good. Her body is so nice, so attractive..."

He stood up, smiling slightly as he did, and sat his pretty body on the arm of the chair her husband was sitting in.

"So ready for some fun. This might be your last chance."

The old man was soon on top of her husband, blazer and shirt open, skirt off, pantyhose ripped at the crotch and panties pushed aside. Her husband was moaning, his hands on his wife's hips, looking right at the old man's face as the old man looking back and rode him hard.

It was hard and quick, but the old man was so turned on he orgasmed quickly and soon her husband came. As he deflated, the old man pulled his wifely body off of the husband.

"Needed that last hurrah, huh?" The old man asked. "Interesting. Maybe I might stick around a bit more. This just got a bit more intriguing to me!"