Hello everyone, this is Mindy. Yes, I am an actual person and not just a figment of Hungry's imagination. For the longest time he's been asking me to write responses to his stories about me so you would get the story from my viewpoint. Now I've seen in the feedback section that I even have a few fans. I've written very little fiction and I'm not even sure what I'd write for these stories. I mean, once I'm encased as a statue or installed as a toilet there'd be very little for me to do other than just be an object. I'm sure what would be going through my mind is more along the lines of "Why the hell did I let myself get into this?" I mean seriously, even someone who "wants" to be a toilet or statue is going to get bored with it very quickly and want out. I suppose I'll go into that later. What I guess I wanted to write here is more along the lines of why I would agree to some of these things to begin with. Over the years I've found that I'm a bit of a special case and most people don't understand me and what I'm looking for so it's easier if I write out a long letter like this. Even then a lot still don't get it but at least Hungry does.
I suppose the best place to start is the beginning. Even though I've heard a lot of people say this, I knew I was different from the start. As young as four or five I knew there was something about me that I wasn't supposed to let others know. I know I had to have been that young because the earliest things I can remember usually dealt with nursery rhymes. In my world Handles and Gretel went into the oven like they were supposed to. The knight didn't arrive in time to save the fair maiden. And the prince didn't break the curse. When a witch turned you into something, you stayed that way. I'm not sure how I knew it was wrong to think this way, but I did, so I kept quiet.
I suppose at this point I'd like to say that I'm not sure why I had the strange thoughts that I did. I came from a loving family that went to church most Sundays. I was never abused. None one was an alcoholic or anything. And my parents had a good marriage. I had an older sister and we got along. While we weren't rich, we were pretty much middle class and had everything we needed. We were the typical average family.
Anyway, as I got older, besides coming up with some fantasies of my own, I got a lot of new ideas from TV and movies. Any time I saw something happening to someone, I wished it was me. One of my favorites was seeing "House of Wax" with Vincent Price. You can't believe how much I ached to find someone who had a workshop setup where I'd be coated with wax and turned into a statue.
Probably before I was even ten I would even try to wander off a bit in hopes that I'd be 'captured'. I remember going to the hospital so my parents could visit someone and I'd ask to go look at the gift shop and they'd allow it so I wouldn't get bored while they talked. As I walked along the corridors I'd imagine a nurse or doctor pulling me into a room, strapping me to an operating table and then experimenting on me. Every time I was on an elevator I'd be wishing it would stop on some hidden floor where someone would be waiting for me. If I was at a haunted house for Halloween I'd hang back from the group in hopes that a secret panel would open and I'd be led into a secret room to become part of one of the torture displays. Once I even remember being allowed to roam around a huge furniture store while my parents shopped. (Parents could let their kids do that back then) I found what looked like a psychiatrist's couch in a dark corner of the store. I had this overwhelming thought that if I laid down on it, steel bands would spring out of the sides to hold me down and a panel of the wall would open allowing the couch to slide in where a mad scientist would be waiting for me. Of course I knew it wasn't going to happen but that didn't stop me from laying down on it.
I suppose at this point I should explain that I have never been completely reckless in letting some idiot get his hands on me. To some it might seem that I'm being picky and that if I'm looking to be used as a victim or a slave that I shouldn't have a right as to who gets me and how I am used. But I've never wanted to be caught by someone who simply wanted to rape me, slit my throat and leave me dead by the side of the road. It's one thing to get pulled into a van knowing you're being taken to the lab of a mad scientist who will use you as a Guinea pig to test his new device. It's another thing to just get stabbed by some moron who has to do it just because there's no other way for him to get a woman in real life.
Anyway, now that I've explained that, let's get back to the reality of my life.
I suppose that the easiest way to put things is that I've never had a zest for life. Whereas my sister was an excellent student, joined every club and sport she could, was always popular with a ton of friends, I just never got excited about things and couldn't see the point to them. I wasn't stupid so I passed everything but I couldn't throw myself into studying and getting straight A's, I usually just got by.
I usually had friends but I think it was more a matter of making sure we didn't go crazy from loneliness. I didn't have the close friends. Of course part of this might have been from the fact that when the other girls wanted to play with dolls I was always secretly wanting to put Barbie in dungeon scenes. When they wanted to play 'house', I was wanting to play "victim of the mad scientist." While the other girls avoided playing with boys, I liked it as long as we played 'cowboys and Indians' or 'capture the flag' or anything else where I'd get tied up.
While I don't think I was a tomboy, I was just never into 'girlie' things. Of course I'm sure that, being the younger of two girls, my father had probably been wishing for a boy. And while I was the one he took fishing and played catch with, I don't think that was a big influence. I just never liked playing dress up or anything like that. I remember absolutely hating it when I had to wear a dress of my mother or sister did something to my hair because we were going somewhere nice. I'd always look in the mirror and think I looked incredibly stupid like that. And before you say it, no, I don't wish I had been a boy. I'm not a female to male transsexual. I'm not a butch lesbian. I've just always thought that me trying to look feminine was a stupid idea. It's just not me.
And so I just sorted floated along through life like that. The next big thing that I should probably mention would be my senior prom. Of course I had never had a boyfriend. I had friends who were boys but they were just friends. I'm sure a few of them would have wanted more but I think most understood I wasn't interested in them that way. But by now I was getting pressure from my family. I'd get asked (particularly by my mother and sister) if there were any boys I was interested in and when I'd invite someone over to the house. Just as a side note, I'm probably the only girl I can think of who was encouraged by her mother to date, get her ears pierced and wear makeup. I remember friends telling me of fights they had had with their parents over those issues and the parents always saying no as a way to keep their daughters under their control. I think my family eventually figured out there was something different about me and, because I had waited so long and never brought up the issues, started encouraging me to do those things. Anyway, back to the subject. I didn't go to my junior prom. No one asked and I wasn't interested anyway. But for my senior prom a friend asked me to go. Of course I wasn't really interested in going but I figured if I went it would maybe make my family happy. I made sure he understood that I was just going as a friend and he said that's all he had wanted. He was wanting to go but since he didn't have a girlfriend he thought we'd just go together as friends. Of course my family was excited about the news. And of course the deeper I got into it, the less I was. Let's start with the dress. As I've already explained, I hated anything feminine. I was not into clothes and certainly not into shopping. While I'm sure most of the girls at school had an adventure while picking out their dream dress, I was in a nightmare. I went to the mall with a friend to shop and I think she got a little mad at me because every time she pulled something out for either her or me and asked my opinion, I would usually just say "whatever" or "I don't know". The weekend before the prom my sister came home just to go shopping with me and my mother because I hadn't gotten one yet. Well, they finally picked one out for me. Then the day of the prom my mother sent my sister, a friend of mine and me to the salon for the day. I think my sister was there just to make sure I actually came back with my hair, makeup and nails done. Needless to say this was the most dressed up I had ever been and I wound up feeling like a complete idiot all night.
Fortunately it wasn't long after the prom that we graduated and no longer had to pretend that my friend was really my boyfriend. Off to college I went. Why? I'll never know. Actually I do know. Once again it was my parents. My sister had went to college and became a nurse. Just after graduating she married an engineer. Of course everyone wants to go to college. Everyone has to go to college to be successful. What they couldn't understand is that I didn't want to go to college. But of course I went. This was another huge mistake in my life. I took all those basic stupid courses that everyone needs to take the first year and wound up going into accounting my second year. While I suppose I had more freedom at college, I wasn't sure what to do with it. I still didn't want to date but at least since I was away from my family there wasn't the constant pressure to have a boyfriend. I remember doing a lot of walking back then. Whenever I wasn't in class (and sometimes when I was supposed to be as well) I'd usually be reading or out for a long walk. Could have been my old desire to be abducted by someone driving by in a van but it's probably more like I just didn't want to be around people. Needless to say, I didn't finish college.
So I went back home. Partly because I didn't have any money, partly because I wasn't sure what else to do in life. I knew what I didn't want to do. But for the few things I did want to do (becoming a slave of various sorts) wasn't listed in the help wanted ads (probably wouldn't have paid the rent anyway). Since I had a little office training, I got a job working for a small trucking company.
Life again just sort of plodded along for a few years. I was always trying to avoid my parents questions about when I was going to get a boyfriend, of course now the idea of marriage was in the picture. I don't think it was that they wanted me out of the house as much as it was they just wanted their daughter to be 'normal'. While my parents never mentioned it, my sister did bring up the idea of me being a lesbian a couple of times. I'm sure she was just the front for my mother and reported back to her.
Then after a couple of years, it happened. If you think that means that I met the man of my dreams and fell in love, clearly you haven't been paying attention that closely or you'd know me better than that. While it does involve me meeting a man, it's more like I was leaving work one day and my car wouldn't start. The man was one of the mechanics for the company. He got my car running and I thought that was the end of it. I saw him around after that but it wasn't until someone else in the office pointed out that he had the hots for me that I noticed it. I never was good at figuring those things out. After a while he asked me out and, mostly because I was tired of my parents asking, I accepted. While it was just casual dating, things eventually got out of hand. By that I mean he proposed. And in what I feel like was the worst mistake of my life, I accepted.
Just for a moment I'd like to say something in my own defense. There is a lot of pressure on women to get married. All our life's were told it's the most important day of our life and the older you get without being married, the more people wonder what's wrong with you. Apparently there are a lot of women who get married without really loving the man they marry so I wasn't alone. I've heard many women talk about why they got married to the man they did and one of the most common answers is "he was the only one asking". Sometimes it's the fear of being alone, in mine it was to get away from my parents and to appear more normal because marriage and family are supposed to be important to women. In the wake of that 'runaway bride' story I heard that 1 in 5 engagements never even makes it to the alter. After a few months one of them realizes it was a mistake and they call it off. But a lot of them go through with it. They see all the preparations that were made, all their family and friends already know, so how can they back out? That's why that woman ran and said she was abducted. I wish I had done that. Getting married to someone you don't love or for the wrong reason is far worse. At least I know I wasn't alone in it.
Anyway, back to my story. He was a nice guy and we had fun together. I suppose I hadn't noticed we had been dating for about 2 years when he proposed and I guess he thought that was the next step. If I said no I thought we'd stop dating and I didn't want to explain to my parents why we broke up, so I said yes. Planning for the wedding was like the prom only ten times worse. My mother, sister and bridesmaids were more concerned about my dress than I was. The hours we spent looking and to me they all looked the same after the first three. They'd keep asking me which one I liked better but it's like I couldn't tell a difference, they were all white. It was the same for everything from invitations to flowers. It didn't matter to me. I should have backed out but it kept getting harder as it went. And so one day I found myself married. And that day I would have been more excited to have been at home with a video or out mini golfing.
Once we were married I suppose I tried to be a wife. It probably would have been better if we just tried to be friendly roommates though. I suppose that everything was pretty much normal and life wasn't so bad. We took trips, we did things, we got along well. For a time we even did a little bit of bondage. I never let him know the extent of my fantasies but he'd tie me up and my mind could wander a bit.
Then the second biggest mistake of my life happened. Even though it was more traumatic, it wouldn't have happened if I hadn't made the first mistake of getting married. About two years into the marriage I broke down and went off the pill. It was a combination of everyone asking when we were going to have children and him saying he was wanting to have them, so I gave in. It took a while but I eventually got pregnant. I'd rather not say much more than I lost the baby. He was a boy and he was just too early and they couldn't save him. I have to feel it was my fault because I didn't want to be pregnant in the first place. Besides getting married and all the other things a woman is supposed to want to do in life, she's supposed to want to have children, and I didn't.
After that it was an avalanche of misery. Just a few months after that happened, the trucking company we both worked for went out of business. Our insurance hadn't been too good to begin with so the doctor's bills were piling up, but with losing our jobs we had no insurance and I was still seeing the doctor. My parents tried to help out a little but we wound up filing for bankruptcy soon after. My grandmother died just about the same time but she had not known I had lost the baby. She was too far gone with Alzheimer's to even recognize my mother anymore. The death of my baby and her mother were probably just too much for my mother. She was diagnosed with cancer a few years before but with the treatments she had been doing better. But having lost her parents and now a grandchild, I think she got depressed and somehow in her weakened state she was more vulnerable. My father died of heart failure a few months later. I think he was just too upset about losing her.
As you can imagine with all the crap happening along with the fact that I was never little Miss Mary Sunshine to begin with, it wasn't a thrill to be living with me. By then I was drinking quite a bit. We had been married a little over four years when he left. I don't blame him at all.