Chapter 19: Sheila
Phobias are mental disorders. Everyone experiences fear, but the fear felt by someone with a phobia is fundamentally different from what ordinary people go through.
When a phobic episode is triggered, the person may become visibly anxious, restless, or physically out of control. Their panic can interfere with daily life—sometimes so severely that they completely lose the ability to function, as if they'd just come face to face with some nameless, cosmic horror from another world.
There are many types of phobias—fear of heights, fear of dogs, claustrophobia, and so on.
Sheila's condition was agoraphobia, the fear of unfamiliar environments. In simple terms, she was terrified of places she didn't know. Only within the walls of familiar surroundings could she feel safe and normal.
And for Sheila, that safe zone was her home. Everything beyond it was unknown—and thus terrifying.
Her phobia was so severe that she couldn't even step past her front door. Opening it and taking a single step outside was impossible.
Sheila also suffered from several other psychological disorders, making it impossible for her to work or live a typical life. The government provided her with a disability benefit, the amount of which varied by severity. In Sheila's case, the weekly amount reached several hundred dollars—more than Frank's own disability check.
Perhaps because of her condition and spending nearly all her time indoors, Sheila developed certain unusual sexual preferences. Her collection of eggplant- and rod-shaped sex toys came in the largest sizes imaginable—the kind that make you wince just looking at them and wonder how anyone could even use them without injury.
But those toys weren't for her.
Sheila had a fixation—a very particular interest in using them on men. She was a dominant sadist with an obsessive fascination for a man's rear end.
Unfortunately for her, her husband—Officer Eddie—was a devout Catholic. A boring man who wouldn't even try to "praise the sun," let alone experiment. Missionary position only, lights off, eyes closed—no play, no passion.
In short, Sheila and Eddie were never on the same wavelength. They were completely incompatible, which naturally led to a broken marriage.
Now in her thirties, Sheila was at her peak in both age and desire. But Eddie, afraid of his "back door" being violated, lost interest in intimacy entirely. He even avoided Sheila's casual touches, acting repelled.
This left their household in constant disharmony. Sheila was essentially living like a lonely widow—abandoned in all but name.
At one point, Frank—furious after Steve smuggled him into Italy—decided to storm off and leave home.
This wasn't unusual for "Frank." Whenever things didn't go his way, he'd leave and couch surf with relatives or drinking buddies… until he got kicked out.
Why? Because Frank was a scoundrel. He'd pawn off people's furniture for booze money, sleep with their wives, and worse. His reputation in the neighborhood was garbage. No one wanted him around.
One night at a bar, Frank ran into Officer Eddie, who was drowning his sorrows and venting about his broken home.
That gave Frank an idea.
He saw an opportunity to move into Eddie's house by seducing Sheila, who had been living like a lonely, unsatisfied woman. If the seduction worked, he could sleep with her and secure himself a new place to stay.
The plan went smoothly—almost too smoothly.
He managed to charm Sheila into bed. But what he didn't anticipate… was her kink.
By the time he realized it, it was far too late. His rear end had already been thoroughly—and traumatically—"explored."
Still, Sheila doted on him afterward like a woman in love. She treated him like a king, as though he were the real man of the house.
Despite the lingering pain in a certain area, Frank decided to stay.
He lived with Sheila for quite some time. While they never married, their relationship was practically that of husband and wife.
For Frank, it was parasitic—he leeched off her, sold her jewelry, and mooched every cent he could.
But for Sheila, it was genuine. She treated Frank as her one and only, becoming emotionally dependent on him. Who knows how much money he had conned out of her?
Because of her phobia, Sheila never left home, didn't understand how to use a computer, and had no idea what people were saying about Frank outside her walls. To her, Frank wasn't a scumbag—he was her man.
When Frank was hospitalized and disappeared for several days, Sheila became physically ill with stress. She even swallowed her pride and begged Officer Eddie to help her find him.
That's why Frank felt so torn.
If it were just about her extreme fetish, he could've walked away and never looked back. Sheila would never leave her house anyway—he could've just avoided her street.
But Sheila had truly cared for "Frank."
And now, with Frank inheriting his body, he couldn't pretend none of that happened. The real Frank had scammed her, slept with her, manipulated her feelings, and used her shamelessly.
He owed her at least a visit.
So here he was, sitting on Sheila's sofa, still wrapped in plastic. Sheila, elated, went to the fridge to fetch his favorite beer.
When she handed it to him, Frank instinctively reached out… then stopped halfway.
"I—I quit drinking," he said, pulling his hand back. "I don't drink anymore."
"Oh? Then what would you like?" Sheila asked, still cheerful.
"Juice or coffee is fine."
Sheila nodded and went to the kitchen.
Frank's eyes trailed after the beer she put back in the fridge. He swallowed, throat dry. A wave of craving hit him hard—he wanted nothing more than to rush over, grab the bottle, and chug it.
But he restrained himself.
In his past life, Frank had hated alcohol. Hated the taste, the smell. This craving wasn't his—it was Frank's.
The old Frank had been an alcoholic for over forty years, living constantly on the edge of poisoning. His body's addiction to alcohol ran so deep it had become a physical instinct.
Frank had been working hard to purge that influence. While drug addiction was harder to quit, alcohol was something he could handle. He hadn't touched a drop since waking up in this body.
Sheila returned with a glass of juice. Frank took it and drank most of it in one gulp, trying to soothe the thirst that wasn't his—but the body's.