Warm Goo WARM GOO BY GREGORY ALLEN Adam waited impatiently in line for his turn. He watched with quiet exasperation as the pimply-faced cashier repeatedly waved the DVD box in front of the scanner. The punk kid probably thought that the machine learned the same way he did, by constant and repetitive reinforcement upon a limited and faulty memory. A more likely problem was that the reflected glare from the cheap, metal rings dangling from the kid�s multiple piercings were interfering with the complex piece of technology. Adam thought about all of the science and evolution that had gone into the development of this intricate device. He doubted that the developers had considered the likelihood that the system could be thwarted by clumsy use from a slack-jawed, knuckle-dragging, truant from trailer-park middle-school. At last, the scanner grudgingly beeped its acknowledgement, and the boy grinned with satisfaction, thus providing evidence as to the legitimacy of the store�s program for the hiring of the mentally impaired. Thinking of having proved that evolution sometimes triumphs over technology, the idiot cashier turned over the DVD, feigning interest in the purchaser�s choice. The kid affirmed that this was one of their most popular videos, a fact that seemed to please the hugely obese woman. Maybe the kid hadn�t slept through the entire customer service training video. Within hours, this woman, this four hundred pound behemoth, would be enjoying the finest in Hollywood entertainment. Her huge, spongy frame would be overflowing her oversized sofa, surrounded by the gnawed remains of her fast-food feast while her limited intellect was being reassured by simplistic, repetitive plot lines, with its unavoidable love interest; all life�s problems being solved before the mandatory, climatic chase scene. The woman would be twittering herself, marveling at the lead actor�s ability, unaware that the actor�s only credentials qualifying him for the role were his make-up enhanced good looks and his bent-over compliancy before a grunting, narcisstic, middle-aged producer. The fat woman clutched her plastic bag of movies and snacks and waddled quickly away, her over-strained green stretch-pants looking like they were hosting the death struggles of an entire swine family. She would undoubtedly be anxious to return to her sanctuary of loneliness, away from the derisive and judgmental stares, and into the deluded self-deceptive dreams of passion and desirability, leading surely to the hell of reality that her morning mirror would declare. The conveyer belt hummed as the next pile of products moved fatefully toward the cashier and on their way to the next step of their eventual dumpster destiny. The line moved with a ripple of delayed reaction as each person took two steps forward, to dutifully wait for their personal opportunity to participate in the complicated economic system that none of them cared to understand. Adam heard giggles from further up the line and glanced, once again, at the pair of young high school girls. Covertly, he watched them, appreciating their fresh, young beauty. Their oppressively tight jeans revealed slender hips and waists, their dimensions still pleasurable, before the unavoidable expansion due to age, neglect, and childbirth. Flat bellies and pert breasts confirmed that youth was still winning over gravity; that destructive force that eventually would distort their young flesh, destroying their bodies along with their hopes and dreams, until they became middle-aged whores, desperate for any drunken loser to pleasure their flabby, much-used flesh. One of the young girls felt his gaze upon her. She looked up at him and through him, his presence and interest making no impression on her young mind. He, along with the vast majority of humanity, was not worthy of the attention of someone still on the upside of life. He was too old, too bald, and too obviously unaware of the latest fashion trends. The girl, like most in her or any age group, was oblivious to the truth that fashion was a myth perpetuated by amoral marketing firms for the purpose of product placement. Some day, maybe she would learn that the designer labeled jeans she wore were no different than those found in the K-mart clearance bin. They all came from the same Asian sweatshops for children. Seeing that no one of interest had been appreciating her carefully arranged, made-up look, the girl returned to her friend, chatting and giggling away, life a big joke to those nearing the peak of existence. Twenty minutes later, Adam escaped the line and was on his way home. He waded through the heavy, afternoon traffic, miraculously avoiding the wandering vehicles of distracted and unskilled drivers. He parked his eight-year-old, used import at the far end of the lot, the surest way he could avoid any further damage to his small vehicle from the heavy doors of the oversized SUVs. He lugged his briefcase and provisions the extra distance to the front door of his small townhouse, the entrance identifiable from the other identical houses only by the footprint-shaped doormat. He let himself in, flipping a switch to light his way. As expected, his wandering wife was not home. He vaguely wondered where she was, but really didn�t care. She�d find her way home eventually, probably in the company of Noreen, their slutty next door neighbor, the bitch with the four kids from three different fathers. Neither woman worked, preferring to lay around all day sleeping and watching soap operas, occasionally breaking their routine by spending his money at shopping malls. He could not really understand how Noreen and her four disrespectful kids could afford to live there. Likely, she made more off the state and child support than he made working. The liberal establishment rewards those with no self-control. Leaving his bags on the dirty counter, Adam went to the bathroom to discharge the excess fluids that had accumulated in his bladder. While washing his hands, Adam studied himself in the mirror. He was still able to see the strong, young man through the thinning hair and sagging jowls. He stripped off his shirt, flexing and admiring his physique in a variety of body-builder poses. He could see the hidden muscles under the paunch over his belt and in his skinny arms, able to ignore the pasty, bloated torso and the drooping, fat-filled, womanish breasts. Encouraged by what he saw, Adam removed his trousers and stainless white briefs. He saw his thin legs and flat, nearly non-existent buttocks as signs of fitness instead of their true lack of muscle tone. His penis looked neither long nor wide, but he still considered himself to be well above average, His wife insisted it was so. He considered the lack of friction in the sexual encounters with the few women he had bedded to be more telling of their promiscuity than his lack of endowment. Adam thought he looked pretty good, all things considered. He thought back to the high school girls at the store, angered by their immature lack of respect and insight. It�s wasn�t that he had any interest in the girls beyond eye candy, but they should have showed the appreciation that was his due. The graphic thought of what the term �appreciation� could entail caused him some excitement. He tugged on himself in thoughtful diversion as mental images of compliant, young women flashed through his mind. He fantasized about the few women he had known, but mostly about women he had seen in passing and in publications. As he serviced himself, his thoughts even traversed to opportunities closer to home. Adam had once made a pass at Noreen at a party. He hadn�t really found her gaunt, skeletal looks appealing, but he was drunk, and he had wanted to introduce some variety into the otherwise boring tedium of his marital relations. Noreen had spurned his attentions, probably the first cock she had ever refused in her life. She had immediately went to share the information with his wife and they had shared a good laugh at his expense. She then proceeded to divulge the information with all who would listen, maximizing his shame. Since that day, Noreen took every opportunity to flaunt her emaciated form, with exaggerated flips of her ratty hair, a seductive slap on her bony ass, or massaging her fried-eggs-on-a-nail breasts. Her behavior never failed to elicit at least a smile from his wife. Adam mostly felt like vomiting. His excitement fading with the remembered humiliation, Adam dressed himself and returned to the real world. He made himself dinner, not bothering to make an extra portion for his late arriving wife. She would remember to feed herself, rarely bothering to take his needs into consideration. The fact that he worked all day to provide for the lazy bitch meant nothing to her. He took his dinner to the living room, to eat in front of the TV, much as he used to do when he had been single. Little had changed since then, except for the added expense of a non-productive family member and enjoyment of watching his wife�s body expand like she had swallowed a fat grenade. It had not always been so. Once, she had been his prize, his tasty arm decoration. When he had first met Penny, he had been sure that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She was the picture of the idealized woman from his fantasies. She was petite and blonde, with a nice rack on her slender frame, her mind uncluttered with useless knowledge or an annoying social consciousness. Most of her time was spent as a personal trainer, her nights spent cruising the local nightclubs. Adam wasn�t rich or particularly inventive in bed, but he had won her affection with persistence and the patience to wait for her for four years, while she hopped from one short-term, failed relationship to the next. His diligence had finally paid off when she, pretending reluctance, accepted one of his frequent proposals. They were married two days later, on a spontaneous Las Vegas trip. They made their vows in a tastelessly decorated, 24-hour wedding chapel, witnessed only by a tired, old prostitute and an overweight Elvis impersonator. Adam had sported his new bride with pride. He had insisted that she wear clothing that revealed her charms, so that he could enjoy the feeling of owning the object of so must lust and desire. He paraded his trophy wife in front of, and under the noses of, his friends and family, her presence the personification of his self-worth. His pride in her beauty made it easy to ignore her tendency toward alcoholism and her affinity for disappearing, unexplained, for sometimes long periods of time. That was then. In the seven years they had been married, she had quit working and working out, adding eighty pounds to her slight frame. She had developed an obsession for romance novels, only occasionally leaving that fictional world of impossibly perfect people to perform her wifely duties in the bedroom. He could not even remember the last time he had a blowjob, at least, from his wife. Twenty bucks was all it cost for satisfaction in some of the more desperate parts of town. Even the sex became less interesting. In the beginning, it had been fresh and exciting, looking into that beautiful face while they made love. Now, as he looked at her mascara-caked, puffy face, her glazed eyes staring into space, their love-making now resembled a coupling of him with some creature from the planet of warm goo. Adam sat on the couch, eating the simple meal, watching the latest of the reality shows. Another show about stupid people acting even more stupid. He couldn�t see why anyone would watch these shows beyond the thrill of watching attractive women straining in various compromising positions. The show did have the advantage of reproducing the vicarious excitement of peeking at unknown women without the danger and embarrassment of arrest, or the expense of joining a website. Perhaps, people�s lives were as uninteresting and sucked as much as his did, and the shows provided distraction from the uncomfortable reality that their sole purpose in life was to provide the carbon dioxide for plant life, and to stink up the planet with their masking perfumes and non-performing deodorants. Maybe, there was some value in this perspective, and he should give these shows more of a chance. As the idiot box showed some tanned, buff, young bimbo putting some unspeakable animal part into her mouth, he sensed movement at the edge of his vision. Adam quickly looked in that direction, but, as usual, there was nothing there. Annoyed that he had been distracted and had missed the bimbo puking animal entrails over her tight t-shirt, Adam returned to and finished his meal. He watched two more hours of focus-group approved, prime-time television for the mentally challenged. He cleaned up and went to bed, not worrying about his still missing wife. Eventually, she would come home, or not. He didn�t care either way. Past midnight, he was awoken by her clumsily thumping around the bedroom. He saw her, looking even more sloppy and disgusting than usual. He watched her undress in the near darkness, struggling to get into night clothes that had not fit her in a long time. His wife stumbled to and crawled onto the bed, the springs moaning in afflicted protest. She fell almost instantly into drunken sleep, her nasal snoring echoing off the thin walls. Nauseated by what he saw, Adam got out of bed. He went to the living room and sat, staring out into the dark night sky, his thoughts in turmoil. The cause of his stomach churning had not been the sight of his naked wife. He was used to seeing her fat, stretch-marked form. His distaste arose from what he had not seen. Shirt, pants, socks, and bra had been tossed about the room. Conspicuous by their absence were her panties. His wife wore underwear like an obsession, probably fearing that her putrid secretions would mar her clothes from that horrifically expensive fashion shop for women with eating disorders. The logic was inescapable. The missing underwear could only mean one thing. He expected to feel the hurtful sting of betrayal, the pain of knowing that someone else was enjoying his betrothed, penetrating the sacred promise that should have been exclusively his. He felt nothing but apathy and revulsion. Adam stared out the window, the burden and hopelessness of his life weighing on his mind like a five ton bus parked on the fragile shell of his self-esteem. It could be worse, he supposed, with his luck, and the assistance of modern medicine, he had only thirty-five or forty more years to live and suffer. Worse, would be believing in an afterlife where his woes would be stretched to the end of eternity. For about the hundredth time, Adam considered divorcing his useless, and now faithless, wife, but the realist in him knew that she would take half of his money, in addition to alimony, and he could end up with someone even worse. He might even up alone. Even occasional warm goo was better that the frequent firm hand. Sighing with resignation, Adam decided that he had better get back to bed, so he could rise early to earn more money for his fop of a wife to spend. He really didn�t care who the idiot was that was banging her. Maybe the guy would do him a favor and throw her off the roof. Again, he sensed movement at the edge of his vision. With a delayed, bored reflex, born of many fruitless results, He looked in that direction. This time, there was something there. Adam froze, in wide-eyed fear, his gasping breaths producing small vapor clouds in the suddenly chilly air, as a dark silhouette advanced upon him. As the creature passed the window-reflected moonlight, it coalesced into human semblance; its form dark; its eyes bright and penetrating; its cold malevolence an affront to righteousness. The eyes belonged to no demon or any other imagined beast. Adam had seen those eyes before. He had seen them earlier that day. He had seen them in the mirror. The eyes were his. Adam tried to flee for his life and his sanity, but his body no longer responded to his will. He sat helplessly, his internal voice screaming in terror, as the thing absorbed into him. The darkness flowed through every cell in his body, penetrated every thought in his head. Before Adam�s consciousness shut down in self-defense against the demented idea of being possessed by himself, he heard it/himself say that this is how it had to be. ******** Adam awoke some hours later, as early dawn was just beginning to creep above the horizon. He was lying on the floor, curled in a protective fetal position. His crotch was cold and damp, evidence of his terror from the night before. Slowly, he unclenched his muscles, stretching out of the cramped position. He stood, expecting to feel the stiffness from a night on the hard floor. He was pleasantly surprised to find that, not only was there no evidence of cramping, he felt very strong. Something had definitely changed. Adam got up and walked about the living room. He felt taller, stronger, more confident. Details of objects that previously could only be discerned upon close examination, he could now see easily from a significant distance away. Even odors and sounds seemed to have greater texture and vitality. Adam went to the bathroom mirror. His eyes had become those he had seen the last night. No longer did he see any fear or frailty lingering behind a troubled brow. He now looked strong and sure, his image a model of true manhood. His clear eyes were unclouded by the guilt of political correctness and his spine unbent by the social Darwinist doctrines of emasculating feminism. Adam reveled in his thoughts of strength and power in his now freed mind. No longer was he going to shuffle through life as everyone�s doormat. He had become a person of significance, someone to be loved and feared. Adam had become a player in life. Adam went to the bedroom and looked down upon his sleeping wife. She was the first thing that was going to change. Too long had he been a victim of her wantonness and stupidity. She would learn to diet or she would die. He would not tolerate a fat sex slave. Adam would show her who was now in control. He flung the bedcovers aside and grasped his wife�s ankles, easily dragging her fat ass to the end of the bed. She awoke in confusion as Adam grabbed a handful of the overpriced pajamas and tore them easily away with a twist of his wrist. Penny seemed not to recognize him. She lay nude, looking fearfully at the stranger her husband had become, any cries or protests silenced by his penetrating, lustful stare. Thirst for dominance overcame his revulsion of his wife as he felt the powerful stirring in his groin. Adam freed himself, his wife�s eyes round in surprise and fear as she finally made her first attempt at escape. Adam held her in place easily, with one hand, while he guided himself and took her with the other. Now, she wasn�t staring at the ceiling in unrelieved boredom. She watched his face, her expression a mixture of pain, confusion, and reluctant pleasure, as her new husband took her forcefully and repeatedly. He drank in her emotions, adding to his excitement. Yes, things were going to change. When he was finished with her, she would tell him all about this little lover of hers. Then, Adam was going to pay a visit to that trespassing fornicator and instruct him as to additional meanings of the word pain. Adam smiled. Payback was sure going to be a bitch. Maybe, on the way back he would pay a visit to those little school-girls.
Copyright © 2005 Gregory Allen |