Excerpt from Work In Progress
Eternally Yours
Stacey sat brushing her golden blonde hair in front of the gilt-edged mirror, when she heard a strange noise. She
reached for her robe — then stopped. Whatever the problem, her nude, perfect body would only help. She smiled as she
walked slowly past the trinkets, baubles, and souvenirs from old boyfriends— down the long hallway, through the massive
living room and into the kitchen.
"There it is again," she whispered to herself as she stopped at the door of the pantry. She was scared, yet excited. Her
full round nipples hardened and stood erect. "Oh, I hope it's a stud muffin!" she giggled, as she fluffed her hair, licked
her lips, and slowly opened the door.
"You!" she screamed as she jumped back and fell against the door jam. "Get out of here and leave me alone!”
The naked woman grinned and rubbed callused palms over the thick cellulite on her thighs. Her small, saggy breasts
bounced as she started to laugh exposing crooked, yellow teeth. Stacey stared in horror at a naked, grotesque version of
herself— Stacey Mae.
“Why are you doing this to me?" she screeched.
"I'll always be with you, Stacey. No matter what you think you see in the mirror, I’m your reality. You can’t hide from your
true self, girl. By the way, all these shelves are empty, don’t you ever buy groceries?"
"No, I am reality! I am beautiful and every man that sees me wants me,” she whispered with her eyes closed. “No man
would even look at you! You’re fat and ugly, and there is no us,” she growled through clenched teeth.
“Well, I’m still here. And another thing, I’m tired of this big white museum! Everything white reminds me of a really
expensive hospital, but without the pizzazz,” she giggled. “Seriously, it feels so damned cold and boring!”
“It’s not just white, you clod— its three shades of white! And if you didn’t notice, I have a collection of Italian glass for
color.”
“What color? There all white!”
“But different shades of white!” Stacey said in disgust.
“Whoopee—” she groaned. “I know, how ‘bout we paint those tall parlor walls a bright blue, just like your beautiful blue
eyes,” Stacey Mae giggled and pointed at Stacey.
“I did away with you surgically,” she said in a whisper.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah— and what’s with the sofa? It looks like a weird shaped shiny mushroom covered in plastic! And to
make it worse, you got two chairs that match it! What’s up with that?”
“They’re a custom design, you dolt! And that plastic is satin brocade!” she growled.
“Feels cold, anyway,” Stacey Mae said with a flip of her long blonde hair. “Hey, but I do like that great big window. Don’t
the ocean look pretty? This place must have been real pricey, huh?”
“Why do I bother? You are not really here!”
"Oh, I am really here and Wilbur Kindell liked me, all right! He called me his hot little heifer. Don't you remember? You
know, Wilbur with the huge dick and lots of energy?" she giggled.
"And a huge stomach to match, the ignorant, drooling bastard! God!” she gagged, “you two make the perfect couple,
because you're both grotesque!"
"Good ol' Wilbur. He hurt most other girls, but not us. We are, or were, as big as a house. So why don't we just get laid?
That always makes us feel better. Or you can get on your computer and talk about Wilbur. I know your fancy friends
would love to hear about the back of Wilbur’s truck and you howling like a sow in heat!"
“There is no us. I did away with you! And all the money and pain was well worth it!”
“Ma and Pa’s money that you stole?” she laughed. “It was college money for learning, not for liposuction, teeth fixing’ and
a boob job! Remember, I was there every step of the way.”
“You are gone, except in my dreams. No, I stand corrected; in my nightmares!”
“Oh, I see,” she droned seriously, as she scratched beneath her breasts.
“Stop that! I hate it when you try to sound sympathetic. You don’t know anything!”
“I know that you look kinda’ plastic. Why your tits stick out like grapefruits strapped to your chest!”
"Typical observation of a boor," she snapped.
“And that’s another thing, Missy! You and your fancy words! You know they make people feel uneasy, but I guess that’s
why you do it, huh?”
“Well, excuse me for being intelligent,” she snarled as she started to sweat.
“Putting on airs don’t mean you’re smart, it just means you’re putting on airs,” Stacey Mae laughed.
“I absolutely hate...”
“Pa says that hating stains your soul.”
“I give a royal shit was Pa says!” Stacey huffed as she began breathing heavily.
“
If it don’t really matter to you, why are you so upset, huh? Answer me that, Missy!”
“I don’t have to answer you anything, you fat bitch! And stop calling me Missy!” Stacey screamed as she headed
towards hysteria. Her voice rose higher and higher she began to feel faint.
“Fat bitch— yeah, that’s what Perry that football captain called you, wasn’t it? Of course it was, when he tried to pork you.
I don’t see why that still bothers you so much. He was just a little boy, with a pencil dick. Oh yeah, that’s what you told
him,” Stacey Mae grinned and waited for a reaction.
“Stop it! I can’t take this any more! Therapy, that’s what I need— therapy!”
“Waste of money, if you ask me. Nothing will ever get rid of me, except when you finally die, old and lonely!” She laughed
heartily and danced a little jig.
“I know what you’re trying to do and it’s not working!” Stacey screeched.
“You know? Oh, I see you still think you’re psychic. ‘I know what you’re thinking’,” she mocked.
“I am psychic! I know things I’ve never been exposed to and I know all about places I’ve never been. If I’m not psychic,
how do you explain it?”
“Television? Hello! I know lots about Paris and London, but I sure as heck ain’t never been there!”
“It’s not the same! I know things about places that happened one or two hundred years ago!”
“Yeah, and who’s around to tell you that you’re wrong or just plain full of shit?”
“It’s all true and I can feel it as if it just happened yesterday! I know the difference between real and pretend— unlike
you,” she huffed with her chin held high. “Hey, you said shit! You never swear!”
“I do now! And it’s called television, you bubblehead! You were always glued to that thing. I wanted to go wrestle the
pigs, or chase the chickens, but no, you wanted to practice your fancy ways!”
Stacey took a long, deep breath and continued. “You are a nightmare. You don’t really exist, except in my worst fear of
regressing into you. I can deal with this, with the help of a…”
‘‘Shrink?” Stacey Mae laughed.
“All I need is a therapist. I can see clearly that…”
“And another thing,” the dumpy young woman interrupted. “What’s with those cartoon blue eyes? They don’t even look
real,” she said studying her intently.
“What are you babbling about?”
“That’s it! You look like a real-life Barbie doll, looking for her Ken in every man she can bed down!”
“What hell does that mean?”
“It means that just like Barbie, Ken doesn’t really exist!”
“Stop it!” she shouted.
“You’re looking for love. And I’d say you were pretty desperate to find it.” Stacey Mae started pointing at Stacey and
laughing.
“I don’t have time for love, but every man that’s seen me, falls in love with me, and that is much more important!”
“You are a sad mess, Missy. But let’s get laid tonight— I’m real horny!”
Stacey awoke weeping with Stacey Mae’s laughter still ringing in her ears. It had been several months since she dreamed
of her. Her life prior to Los Angeles was her deepest and most guarded secret. She lived in fear that someone would find
out and her entire professional persona would be ruined.
Eternally Yours
Stacey sat brushing her golden blonde hair in front of the gilt-edged mirror, when she heard a strange noise. She
reached for her robe — then stopped. Whatever the problem, her nude, perfect body would only help. She smiled as she
walked slowly past the trinkets, baubles, and souvenirs from old boyfriends— down the long hallway, through the massive
living room and into the kitchen.
"There it is again," she whispered to herself as she stopped at the door of the pantry. She was scared, yet excited. Her
full round nipples hardened and stood erect. "Oh, I hope it's a stud muffin!" she giggled, as she fluffed her hair, licked
her lips, and slowly opened the door.
"You!" she screamed as she jumped back and fell against the door jam. "Get out of here and leave me alone!”
The naked woman grinned and rubbed callused palms over the thick cellulite on her thighs. Her small, saggy breasts
bounced as she started to laugh exposing crooked, yellow teeth. Stacey stared in horror at a naked, grotesque version of
herself— Stacey Mae.
“Why are you doing this to me?" she screeched.
"I'll always be with you, Stacey. No matter what you think you see in the mirror, I’m your reality. You can’t hide from your
true self, girl. By the way, all these shelves are empty, don’t you ever buy groceries?"
"No, I am reality! I am beautiful and every man that sees me wants me,” she whispered with her eyes closed. “No man
would even look at you! You’re fat and ugly, and there is no us,” she growled through clenched teeth.
“Well, I’m still here. And another thing, I’m tired of this big white museum! Everything white reminds me of a really
expensive hospital, but without the pizzazz,” she giggled. “Seriously, it feels so damned cold and boring!”
“It’s not just white, you clod— its three shades of white! And if you didn’t notice, I have a collection of Italian glass for
color.”
“What color? There all white!”
“But different shades of white!” Stacey said in disgust.
“Whoopee—” she groaned. “I know, how ‘bout we paint those tall parlor walls a bright blue, just like your beautiful blue
eyes,” Stacey Mae giggled and pointed at Stacey.
“I did away with you surgically,” she said in a whisper.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah— and what’s with the sofa? It looks like a weird shaped shiny mushroom covered in plastic! And to
make it worse, you got two chairs that match it! What’s up with that?”
“They’re a custom design, you dolt! And that plastic is satin brocade!” she growled.
“Feels cold, anyway,” Stacey Mae said with a flip of her long blonde hair. “Hey, but I do like that great big window. Don’t
the ocean look pretty? This place must have been real pricey, huh?”
“Why do I bother? You are not really here!”
"Oh, I am really here and Wilbur Kindell liked me, all right! He called me his hot little heifer. Don't you remember? You
know, Wilbur with the huge dick and lots of energy?" she giggled.
"And a huge stomach to match, the ignorant, drooling bastard! God!” she gagged, “you two make the perfect couple,
because you're both grotesque!"
"Good ol' Wilbur. He hurt most other girls, but not us. We are, or were, as big as a house. So why don't we just get laid?
That always makes us feel better. Or you can get on your computer and talk about Wilbur. I know your fancy friends
would love to hear about the back of Wilbur’s truck and you howling like a sow in heat!"
“There is no us. I did away with you! And all the money and pain was well worth it!”
“Ma and Pa’s money that you stole?” she laughed. “It was college money for learning, not for liposuction, teeth fixing’ and
a boob job! Remember, I was there every step of the way.”
“You are gone, except in my dreams. No, I stand corrected; in my nightmares!”
“Oh, I see,” she droned seriously, as she scratched beneath her breasts.
“Stop that! I hate it when you try to sound sympathetic. You don’t know anything!”
“I know that you look kinda’ plastic. Why your tits stick out like grapefruits strapped to your chest!”
"Typical observation of a boor," she snapped.
“And that’s another thing, Missy! You and your fancy words! You know they make people feel uneasy, but I guess that’s
why you do it, huh?”
“Well, excuse me for being intelligent,” she snarled as she started to sweat.
“Putting on airs don’t mean you’re smart, it just means you’re putting on airs,” Stacey Mae laughed.
“I absolutely hate...”
“Pa says that hating stains your soul.”
“I give a royal shit was Pa says!” Stacey huffed as she began breathing heavily.
“
If it don’t really matter to you, why are you so upset, huh? Answer me that, Missy!”
“I don’t have to answer you anything, you fat bitch! And stop calling me Missy!” Stacey screamed as she headed
towards hysteria. Her voice rose higher and higher she began to feel faint.
“Fat bitch— yeah, that’s what Perry that football captain called you, wasn’t it? Of course it was, when he tried to pork you.
I don’t see why that still bothers you so much. He was just a little boy, with a pencil dick. Oh yeah, that’s what you told
him,” Stacey Mae grinned and waited for a reaction.
“Stop it! I can’t take this any more! Therapy, that’s what I need— therapy!”
“Waste of money, if you ask me. Nothing will ever get rid of me, except when you finally die, old and lonely!” She laughed
heartily and danced a little jig.
“I know what you’re trying to do and it’s not working!” Stacey screeched.
“You know? Oh, I see you still think you’re psychic. ‘I know what you’re thinking’,” she mocked.
“I am psychic! I know things I’ve never been exposed to and I know all about places I’ve never been. If I’m not psychic,
how do you explain it?”
“Television? Hello! I know lots about Paris and London, but I sure as heck ain’t never been there!”
“It’s not the same! I know things about places that happened one or two hundred years ago!”
“Yeah, and who’s around to tell you that you’re wrong or just plain full of shit?”
“It’s all true and I can feel it as if it just happened yesterday! I know the difference between real and pretend— unlike
you,” she huffed with her chin held high. “Hey, you said shit! You never swear!”
“I do now! And it’s called television, you bubblehead! You were always glued to that thing. I wanted to go wrestle the
pigs, or chase the chickens, but no, you wanted to practice your fancy ways!”
Stacey took a long, deep breath and continued. “You are a nightmare. You don’t really exist, except in my worst fear of
regressing into you. I can deal with this, with the help of a…”
‘‘Shrink?” Stacey Mae laughed.
“All I need is a therapist. I can see clearly that…”
“And another thing,” the dumpy young woman interrupted. “What’s with those cartoon blue eyes? They don’t even look
real,” she said studying her intently.
“What are you babbling about?”
“That’s it! You look like a real-life Barbie doll, looking for her Ken in every man she can bed down!”
“What hell does that mean?”
“It means that just like Barbie, Ken doesn’t really exist!”
“Stop it!” she shouted.
“You’re looking for love. And I’d say you were pretty desperate to find it.” Stacey Mae started pointing at Stacey and
laughing.
“I don’t have time for love, but every man that’s seen me, falls in love with me, and that is much more important!”
“You are a sad mess, Missy. But let’s get laid tonight— I’m real horny!”
Stacey awoke weeping with Stacey Mae’s laughter still ringing in her ears. It had been several months since she dreamed
of her. Her life prior to Los Angeles was her deepest and most guarded secret. She lived in fear that someone would find
out and her entire professional persona would be ruined.
| © 2010 Cheryl Gray all rights reserved – no part of this work may be copied or disseminated in any form without the express written consent of the author. |