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Description
Once upon a time, in a quaint little home on the edge of town, lived a husband and wife who were at odds. The husband, once a sprightly and tidy man, had succumbed to a life of lethargy and disarray. His wife, a woman of grace and order, found herself tirelessly maintaining the cleanliness of their abode.

One weekend, the wife had to leave for a gathering of her coven, leaving the husband to his own devices. Upon her return, she was greeted not by the warm embrace of home, but by a scene of utter chaos. Food debris littered the floors, dirty dishes towered like modern art, and clothes draped the living room like festive garlands. And there, amidst the ruin, lay the husband, unrecognizable, bloated with sloth on the damaged couch.

The wife's heart sank as she surveyed the damage. Her husband, oblivious, let out a burp that echoed the apathy in his eyes. But as the wife's anger bubbled, so did her suspicion. The extremity of the mess, the sudden gain of his girth—it was unnatural.

Whispers of her witch lineage echoed in her mind, tales of magical maladies drawn to her power. With resolve, she began an ancient cleaning ritual, her words slicing through the stagnant air. As she chanted, a transformation occurred. The husband split in two: one, his true self, slim and bewildered; the other, an anthropomorphic pig, the embodiment of his recent vices.

The wife worked quickly, her spells weaving a containment around the porcine form. With a final incantation, the creature shrank into a regular pig, its oinks a stark contrast to the silence that followed.

The husband, now himself, apologized profusely, shame coloring his cheeks. The wife, her anger dissipated, assured him of her understanding. Together, they began the arduous task of restoring their home.

As they worked side by side, a question hung in the air, unspoken yet pressing—what would become of their unexpected porcine guest?

Description
Once upon a time, in a quaint little home on the edge of town, lived a husband and wife who were at odds. The husband, once a sprightly and tidy man, had succumbed to a life of lethargy and disarray. His wife, a woman of grace and order, found herself tirelessly maintaining the cleanliness of their abode.

One weekend, the wife had to leave for a gathering of her coven, leaving the husband to his own devices. Upon her return, she was greeted not by the warm embrace of home, but by a scene of utter chaos. Food debris littered the floors, dirty dishes towered like modern art, and clothes draped the living room like festive garlands. And there, amidst the ruin, lay the husband, unrecognizable, bloated with sloth on the damaged couch.

The wife's heart sank as she surveyed the damage. Her husband, oblivious, let out a burp that echoed the apathy in his eyes. But as the wife's anger bubbled, so did her suspicion. The extremity of the mess, the sudden gain of his girth—it was unnatural.

Whispers of her witch lineage echoed in her mind, tales of magical maladies drawn to her power. With resolve, she began an ancient cleaning ritual, her words slicing through the stagnant air. As she chanted, a transformation occurred. The husband split in two: one, his true self, slim and bewildered; the other, an anthropomorphic pig, the embodiment of his recent vices.

The wife worked quickly, her spells weaving a containment around the porcine form. With a final incantation, the creature shrank into a regular pig, its oinks a stark contrast to the silence that followed.

The husband, now himself, apologized profusely, shame coloring his cheeks. The wife, her anger dissipated, assured him of her understanding. Together, they began the arduous task of restoring their home.

As they worked side by side, a question hung in the air, unspoken yet pressing—what would become of their unexpected porcine guest?