The Coma Girl Brain Transplant

That night I confronted my girlfriend in the strongest possible terms and asked her why she felt the need to have repeated affairs. She told me that I wasn't sexually adventurous enough and that she was bored and would leave me unless I changed. I took heed of this warning and hatched a plan to spice up our marriage. I am a big, big fan of classic literature so obviously, I'd read all fifty books of the '50 Shades' series. I decided to work in some of that excitement into our conjugal relations. When she arrived home from work the following Friday I had everything in place. I had purchased a ball gag for her and a blindfold for myself. I'd set up a camera to record our exhilarating tryst and perhaps, hopefully one day, show our grandchildren how I met their grandmother.

After the formalities of foreplay which consisted of me performing cunnilingus on her while she flicked herself off watching gay porn (that was her thing), I introduced the ball-gag and blindfold. I fornicated her from behind while she was on all-fours, in what I now know to be termed the 'doggy style'. Everything was going tickety-boo until I suddenly realised that her body had gone limp and I felt like I was shagging a bag of potatoes. I instantly took off my blindfold and, to my horror, witnessed what looked like an axe attack crime scene.

Blood from my girlfriend's head covered the wall and the bed. In my over-zealous enthusiasm, and with all my love, I had been slamming her head-first into the brick wall. I did hear her muffled moans through the gag but I thought those were moans of pleasure, not agony. 'Oh, my God, what have I done?' I took the gag out, cleared her airways and called 9119991120145145 for an ambulance. Luckily, the ambulance arrived before I'd finished dialling.

Tipped off by the ambulance crew, the police came to investigate. They treated my house like a crime scene and I was in hot water for interfering with potential evidence. It was a nightmare and I thought that things couldn't get any worse. The police took, as evidence, the video of our sexual misadventure. 'At least that will save me', I thought to myself. Somehow...