Storymania - Sally Part One by Gregory Allen

Sally Part One
Gregory Allen

SALLY PART ONE

BY GREGORY ALLEN

Sally loved her apartment. Its thin walls and concealing curtains provided concealment insulation from the callous world, allowing her the indulgence of temporary escape in the fantasies of books, movies and her dreams.

Within these tales, Sally could imagine that she were the desired heroine, her yielding body enveloped in the strong arms of the conquering hero, their R-rated love-making fading from the view of the audience and into her X-rated imagination.

Unfortunately, sooner or later, the needs of life would impinge on her fantasy world, and she would be forced to confront the reality of her existence. Whether it was the replenishment of life�s necessities or to work for the money required for their purchase, Sally was forced from her cocoon of protection nearly every day.

Sally longed for the dreamed of day when she would never have to leave the apartment again. To this hoped for end, she purchased a lottery ticket every week. But, until that glorious day, when her numbers came in, Sally would have to suffer the pain of exposure.

Today�s excursion was to refill her dimishing food stocks and retain more romantic videos for her starving emotions. She steeled her mind in preparation as she dressed herself in the baggiest, least revealing clothing she owned and went about her errand.

Sally accomplished her task with speedy efficiency. She entered the store quickly, sped up and down the aisles as she tossed items into her cart without regard to price savings, or brand name. She impatiently waited in line to process her purchases, staring straight ahead, trying to ignore the covert looks of disdain and overt stares of disgust she knew her presence must be inspiring.

Presently, her mission was fulfilled and she was on her way back to safety. This day�s trek was uneventful, like most, and did not cause her too much distress. Not all of the trips turned out so well.

Some months ago, Sally had ventured to a movie theatre. For a change, she had decided not to wait for the belated release of the movie on video.

When she had approached the ticket counter, the young girl working the station had looked up at Sally, hesitating with indecision. The girl looked Sally over a couple of times before asking Sally to please wait, while she called the manager.

Ten minutes Sally had stood there, as the other movie-goers had streamed past her, glancing at her with curiosity. The manager had at last arrived, and explained, not unkindly, to Sally, that the seats of the theatre could not accommodate someone of her robust size. The manager had offered the use of a special seat that would be much more comfortable for her.

Sally had quietly rejected the offer and left the building. She imagined the condescending comments that must be being said after her hurried exit. She sobbed all the way home and cried herself to sleep over the unfairness of the world.

Restaurants were another type of humiliating atmosphere that Sally now avoided at all costs. Although she rarely ate a full meal in public, the other patrons always seemed to feel the need to monitor her food intake, the implication being that if Sally would just show a little self-control, she would not be tipping the scale at a hefty four-hundred pounds.

God help her if she ever went to an all-you-can-eat buffet. It never occurred to these people that Sally�s condition might be genetic or medical.

Safe, once again, at home, Sally put her groceries away and loaded one of the videos.

Soon, she had left the temporal world and ascended into the pleasingly simplistic reality of the movie�s predictable plot line. In this story, a thickly bespectacled and frumpily dressed young woman lived an uninspired life in the shadow of her model-perfect roommate.

Anyone could see that Hollywood�s version of the ugly duckling was a bikini model dressed in unrevealing sweaters and sporting an unfashionable hair style. It seemed that all of the young men who saw her were not perceptive enough to see past the eyeglasses to her perfect face nor past the out of style outfit to the slender body beneath.

As anyone with half a brain could predict, the young woman�s problems were solved with contact lenses and a fashion make-over. In an afternoon, the woman was transformed into the graceful swan and the world adored her. She got her dreamed of lover and lived happily ever after.

As the film�s credits rolled up her television screen, Sally dreamed of how nice it would be if she could so easily be turned into a swan. She would have many suitors vying for the pleasure of her company, competing to fill her free time with pursuits of interest and merriment. When, at last, she chose a man to whom she would give her love, the rest would be heartbroken, forever lamenting the beauty that got away.

Unfortunately, transformation in the mundane world was much more difficult. There were endless numbers of books, diets, and life-transforming doctrines that promised hope to the desperately unattractive. Sally had tried them all, and all had failed.

Sally removed the disk and loaded another. It wasn�t like she had any constraints, like a social life, competing for her time. Men were pretty much pigs and only saw her as fat and unattractive, never making the least effort to know who she was. Sally�s contact with the opposite sex was very limited. In fact, Sally had only had sex twice, that is, with a partner.

The first had been when she was 14 and weighed a mere 180 pounds. A distant relative, an uncle, had taken an unusual interest in her. While the other family members had been distracted by booze and reminiscing, he had taken her hand and led her to a back bedroom. There, he had taken her virginity while the other relatives had partaken of the Thanksgiving fare.

Later, there had been much shouting and recriminations, and she did not see that uncle again for a long time. She came to understand that what they had did was wrong, but her loneliness sometimes made it difficult to reject his sporadic phone calls seeking to re-enact that day.

The second experience occurred following a going away party for one of her co-workers, one of the few social functions she attended. They had all gone out to a club where her friends drank and danced. Sally only drank. No one asked her to dance.

Toward closing time, long after all the pretty and plain girls had been unsuccessfully or successfully approached, a man had taken an interest in her, probably because Sally was the last available female in the bar.

The man was a middle-aged black man whose name she could not remember. He was hardly handsome with wide, flat features, many gaps in his yellow-toothed smile, and glazed, blood-shot eyes. His baggy clothes could not conceal his pudgy, overweight frame nor the smell of someone long unwashed.

Sally listened to the man�s slurred attempts at self-bravado and insincere comments about her beauty. Intoxication and desperation induced her to listen to his disjointed tirades of self-aggrandizement and tortured grammar.

Still wanting to perpetuate the illusion of desirability, she had accepted his invitation for further drinks and conversation. She had walked out with him, her hand in the crook of his arm, imagining they were a couple going to their senior prom.

They walked to the end of the line of cars, where he stopped and faced her. Sally waited for a kiss, romanticizing in her imagination that she were the prom queen. Instead a soft kiss, the man hit her with his balled fist, knocking her to the ground. As Sally lay there crying and bleeding, the man rifled through her purse, finding and pocketing her remaining cash.

The man turned to leave, but paused, listing drunkenly for a moment. He seemed to come to some decision. She could hear him mutter, �why the fuck not�, as he turned around and came back. He crouched over the cringing, fearful Sally, laboriously yanking her stretch pants down far enough to allow him access to her. He freed himself and lay on her, pushing her fat legs toward her shoulders. He forced himself into her, heedless of her narrowness or her lack of moisture. He labored atop her for a seemingly long time, dripping sweat and hanging spittle attesting to his effort.

At last it was over. The man stood, retrousered his assault weapon, and gave Sally two hard kicks in her side with his booted foot. He spit on her, slurring the expletive �fat cunt� as he sauntered away. By the time he reached the other side of the parking lot, she could hear him laughing.

Sally collected her things and made her way home. She didn�t bother calling the police, preferring not to compound the disgrace of the rape with the humiliation of trying to convince the police that someone would even want to rape her. She went home instead, crying herself to sleep in misery and self-pity.

Outside of those two experiences, the only sex in which Sally had ever indulged, consisted of a well-placed finger, rubbing until she felt both relief and self-disgust.

Afterwards, in the darkness of the lonely nights, sometimes Sally prayed. At first, she prayed for help from the Merciful Father. She pleaded not for beauty, but just to be plain and have the chance at a normal life.

Later, with time and frustration, the prayers devolved into curses of disbelief and hatred. There was no God and she could only hope for the relief and release of death.

The second video completed without Sally having noticed. It didn�t matter, she was sure that the girl got the guy and they lived happily until their divorce when they could do it all over again. It was late, and time to retire.

Sleep was difficult for Sally. Her dreams were pervaded by scenes of betrayals and shame, and, occasionally, by a deep voice that validated her view of a world pervaded by selfishness and self-service. The voice would query her as to the fairness of her situation. The voice wanted to know how it could be fair that she was a fat, disgusting pig, while dumb, little, waif-like bimbos littered the earth doing nothing but tossing their hair to attract an almost endless line of suitors. Were these empty-headed, mattress-dwellers any more deserving than her? Were they better people? Did they appreciate their good fortune?

The voice had tormented her dreams for months. Sally began to worry about her sanity. She recognized that her self-pity had probably focalized into an inner voice that abused her own mind.

The voice returned with greater frequency, coming almost every night with its questions and truthful torture. Sally agreed with the voice, but that didn�t change her life.

Sally came to welcome the voice that seemed to understand her so well. She longed to fully embrace this voice of her dreams and never have to wake again. Sally began to sleep whenever she could, just to feel the comforting, deep tones of the sympathetic voice.

Eventually, the questions, that the voice asked, changed. It now asked the same two questions over and over again

�What do you desire?�, it would query, �what would you be willing to do?�.

Sally instantly knew the answers to these questions. What did she desire? To be beautiful, desired by men, envied by women. What was she willing to do? Anything, absolutely anything.

Repetitively, the questions came and Sally answered. She began to believe that the voice could give her what she wanted. In the back of her mind, Sally knew she was sinking into a self-deluded world of insanity, but she did not care anymore. Anything was better than her real life.

Emotionally exhausted, Sally�s mind finally went blank as she mercifully drifted into unconsciousness.

Sally woke up with a start. She was lying naked on her bed, even though she had gone to sleep fully clothed. It was night and the room was dark. The only light came from moonlight, filtered through the drawn slats forming a slatted light pattern on her pale flesh.

A dark mist slowly swirled and coalesced at her feet. Sally watched, paralyzed, as the mist slowly took on human form. The limbs and torso condensed into a powerful, muscle-bulging frame, thick shoulders and chest topping a clearly defined abdomen, strong buttocks powering muscular legs, its genitalia an obscene, monstrous parody of male desire. Its head, the semblance of a blind goat, the fanged mouth topped by a wide, flat nose, empty eye sockets leading to large, curling horns.

It spoke with the voice from her dreams.

�It is agreed,� the deep voice resonated in her head.

Sally watched, helpless and terrified, as the creature leaned over her. She felt the cold, numbing contact on the outside and then on the inside as she was penetrated by the enormous creature. The icy feeling moved up her pelvis, into her abdomen and beyond, far past what should have been physically possible.

The cold traveled through her chest, neck, and into her head, radiating outward, until every fiber of her being was penetrated by the cold. She felt her flesh moving, twisting, and reshaping, in response to the chill invasion.

As Sally�s grip on consciousness slipped, she heard its last words:

�You will do as I ask�, it stated confidently. Darkness took her as she wondered how insane she had become.