TSG's 'The Bonding Solution'

The Bonding Solution

When did this all start? Probably after my party. Yes, that had to be it.

I'd had a few friends over. Nothing major, just five or six friends who sat around and had a few drinks and pretty much bullshitted the night away. It's went on like that until about 1 AM, at which point I had to chase everyone out 'cause I'd had a very long day and I was ready to hit the sack.

Kim had stayed to help me put things away. Kim was someone I'd known since college. We'd taken classes together our last two years, and we'd been friends for the last five years since graduation. Kim was a classical beauty, at least to me. She was truly gorgeous. She was Chinese, with a slim figure and pert breasts and lovely black hair that reached just past her shoulders. She'd been born in Beijing, lived there three years, then left China with her parents when they immigrated to Holland. She'd lived in Amsterdam until she was sixteen, then her family moved to the US.

She was something of a free spirit. She once told me that growing up in "the land of legal prostitution and drugs" will do that to a person if they have an open mind. She knew a lot of things about art and literature and architectural design, stuff that I knew little about. She liked to dress in what some would call a "provocative" fashion, with very short skirts, reveling tops and high heels. She did drugs in moderation and really didn't care to drink. She mentioned one time that she masturbated at least once a day, and preferred dildos to the real thing.

Needless to say, she had an active imagination as well.

We'd just gotten everything in either the garbage or the dishwasher, and we were relaxing in the living room, me on the sofa, her on the love seat. I was in my black slacks and matching pullover, and Kim was wearing this little brown number with matching tights that drove me just a little crazy. She was sitting with her back against the armrest, her legs together and stretched out. She sighed and then, out of nowhere, goes, "What's the strangest fantasy you've ever had?"

I had to think about that one. When it came to fantasies I wasn't really out there. Oh, there was the "I wish I was an elven princess" sort of thing, but I knew what Kim was asking about were sexual fantasies. Of which I didn't have many. I didn't really need them. My sex life was good, thank you. About the kinkiest I ever got was being spanked once in a while, although I did allow someone--Kim, if you must know--simultaneously penetrate my vagina and anus with vibrators one night.

I thought for a moment, then I told her, "I think I'd like to be forced to wear really slutty looking outfits, like leather and latex all the time."

"Oh, you would?" Kim arched her brows and smiled. I knew she liked looking at me in leather, and had even bought me a leather mini skirt for those times "when we're out, so you have something nice to wear when I'm looking at you." "I think I could get into that."

I smiled and tried not to appear as if I would enjoy the attention. "What about you? I mean, I know some of the things you like . . .."

Kim stared at me for about twenty seconds. I could see she was thinking, more than likely wondering if what she was going to drop on me would be a little too strange for me to dig. I remember when, nine months before, Kim had confessed that she'd always wanted me to urinate on her. I'd nearly fallen out of the booth at TGIFridays when she told me that. "You know I like bondage, right?" she asked me.

Oh, did I know. Kim and I had been fooling around as long as we'd known each other, and I was intimately aware of her love of bondage. One of the first times we gotten into bed together, Kim had me tie her to the headboard. I found it very arousing, and Kim . . . well, she just went nuts over it. She loved being tied up, or restrained in some way, or just having a corset on that someone had tied just a little too tight, or being forced to wear a very uncomfortable pair of shoes.

I nodded. "Sure, Kim, I know."

"I was thinking . . . what if you could be in bondage all the time." She got a smile on her face. I knew the idea was turning her on. "Like . . . you would be restrained constantly, have something you are forced to wear all the time . . . maybe not even be able to move."

"Permanent bondage." I'd heard of people like this. I remember reading something on the Internet once. It was a story from a girl who had been locked into a chastity belt that had been welded shut. She liked the idea that she could never have vaginal penetration ever again. Personally I thought it was very bizarre. Why not have your spinal cord severed at the neck? It would be the same thing.

"Yeah, that is pretty strange, Kim. I never would have thought you'd have liked to be in bondage all the time." I smiled a little to show her I didn't think she was totally out of her mind.

"I've thought about it a lot . . . maybe being locked into an outfit, or having to wear a belt with my wrists manacled to it . . ." She stared at the ceiling. I knew this to be a quirk she had when she wanted to say something, but didn't know if she should. "Or being frozen," she finally said, finishing her thought.

I didn't get that last. "Frozen? Like . . . ice?"

"Frozen like . . . not being able to move," Kim replied. "Like being perfectly still all the time. Like being like--"

I cut her off. "That's sort of extreme, Kim. I mean, I don't care what you like, but you're talking about being locked up in restraints and never being able to move. It's not possible--"

"It could be . . . Glinda."

I tightened up. My name is really Glennis--not a name I particularly like, but it's mine and I'm stuck with it. The only one who ever calls me "Glenda" is Kim. She gave me that name the first time she found out I could do magic.

I'd been into "the arts" since I was twelve. Got the interest from an uncle who passed down what he knew. I was never a Wiccan; my magic was more Hermetic in form. Maybe a half-added "Order of the New Dawn" sort of deal, lots of formulas and incantations and such. I never used my magic that much, although the few times I had it worked very well. I never did anything way out of the ordinary with my magic--although once I did summon this spirit to put a hurt on a guy I'd just broken up with so he'd leave me alone.

Having this ability is not something I wanted people to know about. Normal folks tend to view you a little strangely if they find out you can do magic. Or if you "think" you can do it. Most people don't believe in magic, and why should they? It's not like they see it everyday.

That's because it's not easy to perform. A lot of times spells need months to research. You fuck something up, and not only won't it work, but the effect might also eat you. Even then, you have to be careful that you don't try to do something that overextends reality. Someone I knew once tried a spell that would let him win a hundred and sixty million-dollar Powerball lotto, and he turned into a puddle of goo. At least I thought it was him.

Kim knew I did magic. She walked in on me once when I was changing an outfit, transforming it from a simple smock to a beautiful silk dress. I tried to fast talk around it, but Kim wasn't given to seeing things and didn't buy anything I was selling. Finally I confessed to her what had happened and what I could do, because I knew she wouldn't blab. Since then, she would tease me with the name "Glinda," as in the Good Witch.

Kim had seen me do magic a couple of times after that. Once I even changed her and me for Halloween, giving us both huge breasts and large, round asses so we could dress like total sluts. She was surprised that I could change her. I explained that I could make changes to others, but that they had to be willing. If I were to try something like giving a woman big breasts--and doing it against their will--I'd likely have the spell boomerang back and change me into something that look like a set of breasts with legs and arms.

I gave Kim as stern a look as I could muster and told her, "Don't even go there." I had a feeling she was considering some options, and that she wanted me to do something to make it happen. I could, I knew it. The problem was, given what Kim was discussion, what was she considering? Having clothes become part of her? She'd once talked endlessly about having silk stockings and shoes bonded to her so that she couldn't take them off, and I even obliged her by working up a spell that let her find out, for a week, what that was like. Or maybe she wanted to have other things done? This wasn't something I was into, and I hadn't give it a lot of thought. Kim obviously had, and I knew she had a good imagination.

She could be thinking about anything.

We didn't discuss it any more that night. Kim got the hint that I didn't want to talk, so she came over and started rubbing me, touching me . . . and I understood that she now had other things on her mind.

I didn't need to ask if she wanted to spend the night.



It was quiet until the next weekend. I was thinking of going out and maybe dancing a little, hanging with some people, anything to get out of the house, when Kim called me at work as asked if she could come over about 6 PM. (Yes, witches do have day jobs. Most of them, that is. The ones with a lot of power, the ones you don't hear about--well, they don't need to work.) I almost said "no," but Kim was too good a friend, and saying no to her was a difficult task for me.

Kim was a little subdued and not her normal, exuberant self when she arrived. She didn't look sad, but instead she seemed lost in thought. This worried me; I'd seen her like this before, and I knew she wanted something--something magical--and she was unsure of how to ask me to make it happen. My mind went back to our conversation last weekend, and I was afraid she was still obsessing on that.

She gave me a peck on the cheek, then sat and asked me how my day had been. We chatted for about twenty minutes--small talk, nothing more--then she dropped it on me. "Glennis, I've given it a lot of thought, and I want to do this thing--"

"What thing is that, Kim?" I asked naively.

"The permeate bondage thing." Her eyes were sparkling. "I want it, I really do."

I nodded and tried to show no emotion. Inside I was torn by the urges to first slap the shit out of Kim and then give her what she wanted. "Okay." I tried to be nonchalant. "So, what do you want? To have gloves on all the time? A corset? Maybe have you legs locked up?"

She got right to the point. "I want you to turn me into a mannequin."

I didn't say anything for about thirty seconds. Instead I gave her that "Are you outta your fuckin' mind?" stare that I reserve for people who are usually too stupid to live. Her only reaction was to smile like a fool the whole time.

Finally I asked her, "You're fucking kidding, right?"

She shook her head. "No," she said. "I want you to turn me into a mannequin." She touched me on my chest with her right index finger. "In particular, I want to be your mannequin."

"You want to be my mannequin?"

"Yeah."

Okay, well . . . this wasn't something I heard every day. Up to now the biggest thing I'd ever done was work up a spell for a girl who, for some goddamn reason, wanted to have sextuplets. That spell had worked (too well, actually. She'd been pregnant twice more since I did the spell, and each time she had six babies), but the reality was it hadn't been that difficult a spell--and the girl had been very willing.

This one . . . this would involve turning someone into an inanimate object. An object that, I was assuming, would still be able to think and feel and hear and see (I didn't believe Kim just wanted to be turned into some simple hunk of plastic); something that could be taken apart just like one would do with a real mannequin. I knew this is what Kim was looking for.

What she wanted to be.

"You know . . . this isn't something . . ." I cleared my throat. "Kim, I turn you into something like this, I don't know that I could change you back."

"Who said I'd want you to change me back?"

I scanned her face. She was dead-assed serious. Her eyes . . . pure determination, no hesitation. Kim was telling me exactly what she wanted.

"You want to be a fuckin' hunk of plastic forever?" I asked.

She nodded. "Yeah, I do. It's . . . it's everything I'm looking for."

"It's . . ." I didn't have words for what I needed to say. "It's like you're killing yourself, you stupid little bitch!" I screamed. "You won't be human anymore, you'll just be--"

"A mannequin?" I wanted to slap her, but she was acting so normal. It scared me. It was like she'd gone insane and I was speaking with someone who wasn't in their right mind. But I knew that wasn't the case. I knew Kim. She wasn't nuts. She'd thought hard about this.

She was just being brutally honest with me, is all.

We spent most of the next three hours arguing about Kim's request. I told her she was stupid. She told me she wanted to be changed. I told her what she was asking for was beyond kinky. She told me she didn't think there was anything wrong with her request. I told her that she might as well kill herself, as this was pretty much the same thing. She told me she'd always be alive. I told her I didn't want to lose her. She told me that was why she wanted to be my mannequin, so we'd always be together.

After she left I went around and around in my head trying to come up with a good reason to tell her why I wouldn't try this. Problem was, I couldn't come up with anything. She wanted this, and who was I to tell her no? Oh, sure, I could tell her no and leave it at that, but our relationship would be screwed from that point on, because she knew about some of the things I could do, and if I said no, I was saying so because I didn't want to change her. And that, I was afraid, was something she'd never forgive me for.

If I did this, I'd lose her. If I didn't do it, I'd probably loose her.

In the end I didn't have a choice . . ..



I spent three months going over books and gathering material I'd need to make this spell work. The chant was pretty much there; I'd just use a variation of what that was used to turn people into statues. I let Kim know that I wasn't very comfortable with this spell: it was almost akin to black arts, and magical retribution could be hard for someone who wasn't attuned to this sort of shit. I let Kim know that if there were any doubts on her part about be kicking this damn thing off, it could be me who ended up getting converted into segmented plastic.

There were components that I would need to pull this off. If I were better at magic I could have probably winged this and not needed half the shit I'd gotten, but I wasn't a Merlin, so I needed ever little bit of help I could get. But I was certain that I'd pull it off without a problem.

Kim would stop over every so often to see how I was coming long. Since that night a few months back we'd never made love again--not since she'd made her request to be transformed. I don't know if she was embarrassed to want to love me, or if she felt I was pissed off at her, I don't know. I did know I missed her touch and her tenderness, and in a very short time I was never going to have either again. And I was going to miss it . . ..

"I want to make love," I told her one night. Kim had come over, I'd told her that I was just about ready to perform the spell, and then I dropped this bombshell on her. "I want to . . . be with you before . . ." I couldn't say it.

"Before I turn to plastic?" asked Kim. She grinned. No matter what arguments I used with her, she wasn't about to be swayed. "You're really going to miss me, aren't you?"

I could have slapped her. "Are you fucking serious?" I screamed. "You don't know? What the fuck is wrong with you, Kim?" I was almost crying at this point.

Kim's tone changed considerably. Where she'd been a little standoffish and nonchalant, she quickly because soft and serious. "I'm sorry," said Kim. "I guess I've been only thinking of myself, of my fantasies, and . . . I haven't spent a lot of time thinking about you. What this is going to do for you--to you." Kim's eyes were starting to mist a little. It confirmed what I'd thought: that she might not have wanted to do this, but her fetish was driving her on--and it was a lot stronger than anything else that drove her.

I slid up next to her on the sofa. "I understand," I told her. "This is really . . . I mean, I keep thinking about turning you into a fucking statue, and it's hard to imagine you as this . . . plastic . . . thing . . ." I couldn't complete my sentence. I was too choked up.

Kim slid a hand into mine. "I'm too strange for you, ain't I?"

I shook my head. "No, no you're not," I said. "I just . . . fantasy is one thing. But what you want goes way beyond that--"

"It's what I want," said Kim softly. "I can't explain why I want to be changed; I only know I have to do this." She leaned in and hugged me. "You have to believe me when I say if I don't do this, I'm going to lose my mind."

"Why?" I asked. "I just don't get it. Why do you want this?"

I didn't know if she was going to come clean with me or not. She was quiet for the longest time, staring at the floor and the wall, everywhere but at me. I figured after a few minutes she'd just ignore the question and leave, or try to change the subject.

Suddenly she said, "I want to be with you all the time."

I giggled. "I got no problem with that."

"But . . . I don't want . . ." She sighed deeply. "I want to be your slave, Glinda."

"Don't call me that--"

She ignored me. "I want to be under your control. I want you to do any fucking thing you want to me. I want . . ." She hugged me. "I just want you to play with me, make me your toy." She released me. There were tears in her eyes. "I can't explain why I feel like this, but I do. That's why, that one time, at when we were out, I wanted . . .."

"You wanted me to piss on you."

Kim nodded. "Yeah, that time." She stood and walked over into the corner. She faced the wall for about a minute, then turned back. "I have this dream . . . that if I'm your mannequin, I'll be there frozen, feeling, hearing and seeing everything, and you'll be there, taking care of me, and . . . I'll love you so much, because you'll dress me and touch me and feel me and maybe--"

"Love you as well?"

Kim nodded, looking down, seeming like she was ashamed. "It's pretty fucked up thinking, isn't it?"

I started to nod, but caught myself. "In a way, yeah, but I guess it's your life." I leaned back and folded my hands behind my head. "You wanna be a statue, that's your fuckin' business."

"But you don't really want to do it."

"No, I don't," I told her, shaking my head. "I'd rather have you as you are. To be honest, I don't think I can relate to you as a mannequin."

Kim looked shocked. "You couldn't?"

"I don't know. Every time I'd look at you I'd want you back as you are now--the girl I want as a lover, not as a dressing dummy." I smirked. "Besides, I've got my own fantasies."

"To be dressed like a slut all the time."

"Hey . . . it's not much," I said, "but it works for me."

I thought that Kim was going to leave after that. I felt that we had nothing else to discuss. In a few days I'd have the spell worked out, after which I'd let her know. She'd show up, I'd cast the spell, she'd be transformed . . . and then what? I'd put her up in my bedroom or some shit like that? I couldn't really didn't know what I was going to do. As much as she wanted this, I knew I'd never be able to look at her once she'd become a mannequin.

Kim's face suddenly lit up. "I've got an idea," she said. "But before I tell it to you--"

"Yeah?"

She took me by the hand and led me towards the patio door. We went out into my back yard. Because I some times performed rituals back here in the nude, there was tall privacy fence all around. Kim led me a few feet from the house. She took my hands and looked into my eyes. "You trust me?" she asked.

I shrugged. "I don't know. So far--"

"I want you to trust me."

The way she spoke . . . I nodded. "I trust you."

She knelt to the ground. Kim reached up under my skirt and with one quick, violent yank ripped my panties from my body. "Piss on me," she ordered.

I stood looking down at her. "Kim--"

"I won't tell you what I have in mind if you don't do this!" she exclaimed. "Please! You said you trusted me."

Yes, I did indeed tell Kim I trusted her. And truth was, I did. So I didn't hesitate. I allowed myself to relax . . . I stared into her eyes . . . and I heard the splash of my urine on her body followed quickly by her gasp--

I couldn't wait to see what she wanted to do now.



The next three weeks came and went very quickly. I'd taken everything I'd gathered, everything I'd learned, and prepared the spell. I didn't need to do a "test run" of it: it was going to work the way I wanted it to work--

And the way Kim wanted it to work.

I had no fears whatsoever.

The night I'd picked to perform the spell we decided to go out and have dinner. A little quiet time for ourselves, you could say. This was going to be one of those life changing experiences, and both of us sort of wanted to say goodbye to each other--and possibly goodbye to our old lives. At least in Kim's case it was gonna be a big goodbye . . ..

We dined and drank and when it was over we headed back to my place. It was about 10:45 PM when we arrived. We sat on the sofa and relaxed. We both had a bit of a buzz from our drinks, and I wanted to be certain we were both pretty sober before I attempted this spell. Wouldn't do to slur a word and have both of us end up being turned into toads or something.

After sitting close to each other for close to twenty minutes, Kim leaned over and kissed me. "Thanks."

"For?"

"For what you're doing."

I smirked. "I haven't done anything yet."

"You will." She raised her eyebrows. "You are going to, aren't you?"

"Of course," I told her. "I promised, didn't I?"

Kim put her arms around me. "Yes," she whispered. "Yes, you did." She kissed me again. "And when do we start?"

I grinned broadly. "You're really eager, aren't you?"

"Very, my dear."

"Well then . . ." I extracted myself from her grip. "I guess now's as good a time as any." I went to my bedroom and pulled out all the stuff we were doing to need (which I'd put into two boxes) and brought it out into the living room. I pointed to one box. "You need to get changed," I told Kim. "Put that stuff on while I get the circle ready."

I stared laying out the circle. All good magic needs some kind of focus, and for the spell I was taking no chances. A circle is one of the best foci a witch can use, and when one is getting ready to kick off something big--like I was about to do--one needed all the help they can get.

Kim laid out the outfit I'd picked for her. She looked it over carefully. "This is what I'll be wearing," she said simple. Kim grinned as she spoke. She'd known what she'd be wearing, 'cause she'd helped me pick out the outfit.

I finished up, then walked over. I ran my hands over the black thigh high boots. Finding a good pair with five inch heels had been a pain, but we'd found them. The black leather thong and matching opera gloves. And the full leather corset that would become the final component of Kim's transformation-- It was all there, all ready for her to wear. "Nervous?" I asked.

She began stripping off her clothing. "Yeah." She tossed everything in the corner. "But I trust you." As soon as she was naked she sat down and began slipping on the boots. As she finish putting on the first one, the look on her face was one of extreme pleasure. This girl was ready, no doubt about it.

After getting the second boot on Kim stood. She modeled for me. "Good?" she asked.

I smiled. "Wonderful."

"You sure you want to go through with this?" she asked.

She slowly ran her legs over her now-booted thighs. "You know it." She winked. "Particularly if things work the way we want them to work."

I saw the look of satisfaction on her face. "You liking that?"

"If it feels as good as this," said Kim, "I'm gonna love it."

I nodded. "It'll feel better," I said.

Kim picked up the thong and began slipping it slowly over her booted feet. "Then we should get this party started, shouldn't we?" She pulled them up snuggly into her crotch and moaned slightly between pursed lips. Then she picked up the gloves and began easing them onto her arms. "And I'll begin to change when?" she asked.

"Once I have you secured in the corset." I began removing my own clothing. "Even though the clothing is enchanted, the spell won't kick off until you're standing in the circle and I get the corset on your and tied up." Kim nodded and finished putting on the gloves in silence.

Kim took a couple of steps around the room in her nearly-completed outfit. She'd always looked good in leather, but seeing her like this stirred something inside me. I knew what was going to happen the moment I put that corset on her, so I admired her body as it was now, knowing I likely would never see it again in this way. She lifted her right foot and twisted it slightly. "I never could get used to these five inch suckers," she said.

"In about fifteen minutes you won't care," I told her. I was completely naked now. I took the paint I'd prepared earlier and began drawing sigils on my body. "I should be ready in a couple of minutes."

"No hurry," said Kim, watching me closely. She'd never seen me going through the process of preparing a major spell before. No one ever had. Well, no one who wasn't a witch, that is.

Finally I was ready. I motioned to Kim. "Enter the circle" I said somewhat solemnly. Kim did as she was told, her eyes never leaving mine. I picked up the corset and moved in behind her. "I have to ask you this: you are doing this of your own choice, are you not?"

I had told her that I needed to ask her questions that would set her frame of mind. "Yes," she said without hesitation.

"This transformation is of your choice?"

"Yes."

"You have no doubts in your mind about what is to occur?"

"None at all," she shot back.

I slipped the corset around her body, getting it in place around her waist. "You understand that once I've finished tying off this corset the spell will enact?"

Kim nodded. "I do."

"And you wish to continue?"

"I do."

That was all I needed. As I started to chant, just under my breath, I began to tighten the corset around Kim's waist, pulling it tight . . . then tighter . . . then tighter even. I didn't have to worry about the spell kicking off early; nothing would happen until I made the final knot and spoke the last part of the chant.

Kim grunted each time I pulled the corset tight. She had a 23 inch waist, but not much in the way of hips or breasts. That was changing, however, as I contracted her waist. Normally I wouldn't be able to get her down below 20-21 inches (Kim had never worn a corset before now), but there was a little magic involved here . . . she gasped a little as her hands moved over her now very narrow waist. "How . . . how--" The scent of Kim's musk filled my nose as she grew excited over what I'd done.

"Probably 19 inches," I told her. I made a few more adjustments, tightening the laces just a little more . . . there. Now Kim had hips and breasts. I'd shrunk her waist down to an impossibly slim 18 inches with this corset. If I pulled the garment off her body now her waist was slowly snap back to 23 inches, but if I tied this off . . . "One last time," I asked. "Are you certain you want me to proceed."

I couldn't see her face, but her nodding head told me all I needed to know. "Yes," she whispered. "Please."

There was no point in delaying the inevitable any longer. I pulled the corset's laces tight and knotted them securely. After I released them I chanted the final phrase--

Then turned Kim so I could watch her.

At first nothing seemed to be happening. Her eyes were somewhat glazed over--that was an aftereffect of the spell as the thermic energy began flowing through her, leaving her a bit disoriented. Then her eyes seemed to pop out of her head. Kim's mouth flew open as her body shuddered . . . "Oh, my . . . oh fucking . . . GOD!" Kim's crotch thrust forward as the orgasm I knew she was having hit her like an oncoming train. "Oh, Christ, that's good!" Her hands went to her breasts, giving them a little squeeze through the leather corset covering them.

"How do you feel?" I asked.

"I feel . . . like--" Kim looked herself over. "I feel it happening!"

"What is it like?" I was truly curious. I wanted to know what was happening to her.

"My skin feels all chilly all of a sudden." Though that might have been true, I didn't notice any gooseflesh anywhere on her chest and neck. Not did Kim seem cold. "I can't . . . I can't flex my toes!"

I suspected that might happen. "You're changing from your extremities inward," I told her. "Try moving your fingers."

Kim's hands were cupped around her breasts. She pulled them way and tried to move them, but the remained in the cupped shape. "Oh, shit," she exclaimed softly. "I'm changing! I'm really changing."

"You might want to start getting into a pose--"

But Kim wasn't listening. "I might as well put them back," she said, replacing her cupped hands over her breasts. "I can . . . they feel like plastic. It's incredible! I mean . . . oh!" She squirmed slightly. "My legs are frozen at the knees. They've . . ." Kim lifted her arms. Her elbows were now frozen into place as the transformation moved inward towards her torso. She put her hands back into place. "I'm all tingly all over--"

"Your body is becoming more sensitive," I said. "You'll have--"

"The leather on my legs, my hands . . ." Kim moaned again. "God, it feels so good. It's like I can feel every pore in the leather, every imperfec--" She moan again, this time louder. "Shit, honey, am I gonna feel like this all the time?"

I nodded. "That's how you wanted it," I said. And that was when I saw it; the change that came over her shoulders, over her upper thighs and her hips.

Her skin was taking on the glossy sheen of high-grade plastic.

It was fascinating to watch. I could see her skin becoming hard--I mean, one second you could see the indentations in her body where the muscles pulled in and others pushed out, but as the effects of the spell took over, the flesh changed and became smooth, unblemished, looking so artificial. The color changed as well: it turned from a slight-tanned shade to "flesh tone", that color that people used when they wanted to make something look lifelike. Kim was becoming like that--she was going from living to lifelike. She was really turning into a mannequin.

The changed flowed over her shoulders and hips and began working towards the center of her torso. I'd set the spell to change her head last, and the altered plastic that was becoming her new flesh had taken over her neck and was halted just below her jaw line waiting for everything below to finish. Kim was feeling fantastic; the spell was having the effect of turning her changed body into a huge erogenous zone. I could see the expressions on her face as she struggled with the fact that she was unable to move, that her hand and feet and arms and legs--and now her hips and waist and neck--had transformed into hard, unyielding plastic, and that a life of perfect immobility was no longer something to fantasize about . . ..

"I can't . . ." Kim sucked air into her mouth and gasped out words. "I'm . . . not . . . breathing."

"You can't, honey," I said softly. "Your chest is all plastic and hard now." It was true: the visible parts of her chest were now transformed, as were her hips. I was somewhat sorry that I couldn't see her crotch or her breasts, because watching her vagina vanish into her body as her crotch became smooth, flesh-colored plastic--or seeing her breasts become devoid of areola and nipples . . . fuck! "Can you feel your pussy?" I asked.

Kim tried to nod, but she no longer had any muscle in her neck to allow her such an action. "I . . . feel--" She sucked in another mouth full of air. "It's there . . . I felt . . . it . . . seal up . . ." She closed her eyes. "So . . . exquisite . . .."

Suddenly the plastic began creeping up onto Kim's face. Her eyes widened slightly as it moved onto her jaw line. "It's . . . almost--"

"You don't have long, Kim," I said. "It's almost done."

"I . . . feel--" The realization hit her. "I'm . . . going--"

The plastic was running up the side of her face now. I touched her transformed shoulder. Kim was hard and smooth and room temperature. No longer flesh, no longer living. "Don't be scared," I said in as comforting a voice as I could muster. "You're almost there."

"You . . . love . . . me?" Suddenly her lips fused shut as the lower half of her face turned hard. Her lips became a little fuller and turned a bright, painted red as the image of Kim the Mannequin became reality. Her eyes still sought the answer to her question.

"I love you, honey." I moved in closer. Her nose was now changed, and the plastic was moving up over her ears towards her temple. Her hair was becoming a shiny black as it transformed from real human hair to a human hair wig. All that was left of Kim that was human was her eyes. "I will always love you."

Kim blinked once, then her eyes opened slightly as the spell's transformation changed the last of her flesh. They changed into something akin to glass orbs that had been pushed into her plastic head, and were painted with the most loving care.

Kim, as I knew her, was no more.

I stepped out of the circle to take in Kim. She was no longer having to balance on her heels; her feet fit the boots perfectly, and mannequins do not have a problem with balance. Her pose was incredibly sensual: feet slightly apart, back straight, breasts out, hands cupped over her breasts, head turned just a little to the right, lips pursed, eyes half-open and smoldering. Just as I walked around her the seams that defined her as a plastic object appeared: now, if I were of a mind, I could take her apart and put her in a box, move her somewhere, and put her back together again. But only after dressing her properly, mind you.

Her body was just . . . it was perfect. I was highly pleased with the spell. I honestly hadn't thought it would turn out so well, and I'd surprised myself. "Good job, Glennis," I whispered.

I finished my pacing and stood before Kim. I knew she could hear and see me, and when I lightly ran my fingertips over her breasts and hands I could only imagine what was going on inside her frozen body as her plastisized flesh transmitted the amplified sensation through your form. I couldn’t help but feel a bit of envy; Kim was now the personification of human beauty, forever caught in a moment that wouldn't ever pass--

"Only if I don't do this," I whispered. And with that I put my arms around Kim, reached up, and kissed her full on the lips.



I rolled out of bed naked well before the sunlight began streaming through the window. I stretched, scratched my tummy, then padded into the kitchen, still naked. I didn't mind the bare wood floor because I'd cast a spell on it soon after moving in to keep it nice and toasty regardless of the weather outside. Came in handy on those ass-chilling winter 'morns.

I started the coffee brewing and made my way to the living room window. The street below was quiet, though there were people out and about. I loved living in the city; I loved the constant activity. Though the times like this . . . the quiet moments where one felt like there were the only one about . . . I wished there were more.

The coffee was almost finished, and I needed to get my morning going. I didn't need to have the shop opened until 8 AM, but anymore I didn't sleep a lot. It wasn't due to a spell I'd cast--although come to think of it . . ..

I walked back into the bedroom. In the corner was Kim, frozen, the red leather mini dress and the matching boots I'd put her in last night looking oh-so-nice on her. I walked over and gave her a big kiss on her bright red lips. "Morning, baby," I said. I gave her a hug. "Unfreeze, Kimmie."

Kim's previously wide-open eyes blinked. She raised her arms above her head and stretched. "Morning, baby," she replied. She reached over and hugged me back. "Sleep well?"

"You should know," I said. "You were watching me all night."

Kim giggled. "Yeah, I did. You looked like you could have used a little extra loving to help you doze off."

"I was okay." She followed me out of the bedroom, her bootheels clicking on the hard wood floor. "If I'd have needed you--"

"You'd have unfroze me, I know." She walked into the kitchen and seeing the coffee was done poured herself a cup. She leaned against the counter. "I was thinking--"

"Yeah?"

"I'm getting a little tired of red." She shook her hips back and forth, drawing attention to herself. As if she needed to. "I'm in a bit of a hot pink mood this week."

"Wouldn't have anything to do with that pink latex suit that just came in, now, would it?" I poured myself a cup and went into the dinning room. I sat, crossing my legs. "Or an urge to model it?"

"Now that you mention it . . ." Kim walked slowly into the room. I still loved watching her move, even after all these years. "Yeah. I'm wanting to model it in a bad way, if you must know."

"Well, now I know." I sipped my coffee. "It was my intention to put you in it--"

"Today?"

"Well . . . I was going to wait until tomorrow, but since you asked so nicely . . .."

"Today, then."

I nodded. "Today, baby." I finished my coffee, headed for the bathroom, and began my morning routine.

I probably spent a half hour in the shower. When I stepped out Kim was there, waiting, still in her leather outfit, a ready towel in her hand. "And you know what?" she asked.

I knew this pertained to our conversation earlier. Kim was like that; she'd hold the thoughts in her head for the longest time, then bring them up whenever she felt like it. Most of that was due to the way Kim view time these days. It didn't mean anything to her anymore. "What, honey?" I took the towel from her and began drying off.

"Pink would be good for you as well."

I knew what she was doing; she was setting the idea in my mind about the color pink. "Pink . . . is good, Kim." I wasn't big on the color pink, but it was too late now. She'd gotten my mind going on this . . .

After drying my hair and brushing my teeth I padded into the bedroom. A pair of shoes, white panties, some socks and a simple dress were already laid out for me to wear. Kim did this every morning--at least on those mornings where I unfroze her.

I stood before the garments, looking at them a bit stupidly, I imagined. Kim came over, picked up the items, and began dressing me. As I always did I didn't resist--but then, I couldn't, could I? She finished up and stepped back--

Watching the clothing change on my body.

It always felt like a film of some kind--gel, I would guess--running over my body when this happen. It didn't take long to complete, but it always felt funny with it occurred. One of these days I'll get used to it . . ..

When the crawling feeling finished I walked over to the full-length mirror in the corner of the bedroom. I never quite knew what I was gonna end up looking like after Kim dressed me. I would always guess, but . . ..

But today I was pretty much on the money. What had been a simple smock, plain shoes, socks and flats was now a hot pink PVC mini dress that showed a hell of a lot of cleavage--and probably a bit of my butt when I'd go to bend over--pink knee-high stockings, and a pair of patent leather platform Mary Janes with at least, from the feel of it, six inch heels. No one could see them, but the outfit was finished off with a pair of latex panties (call me crazy, but I was guessing their were pink) that . . . oh, yes. A built in butt plug. Oh, wonderful. Good thing I was used to these things now--

What I was still not used to were the changes that always occurred to my body.

My hair was bright beached blond, done up in cute pigtails. My eyes were a bright blue that looked even brighter when contrasted against my alabaster skin, and my lips were extremely full and pouty and painted a pink (along with my suddenly two inch long nails) as so to match my outfit. My hips were wide, my waist narrow, my legs long and well defined--the shoes saw to that--and my breasts--

Normally my breasts stayed about a C cup, just like I was born with. Normally. That wasn't always the case, and today was a perfect example of that. I was blown up, big, like some European porn star. And fake? Shit, baby, it looked like someone had replaced my tits with a couple of bowling balls. Queen of the Wet Dreams, was I.

I turned to Kim. "I look presentable?" I asked in a little girl, sing-song voice.

Kim shook with excitement. "Perfect, my dear," she said. "Good enough to eat."

"You can do that tonight, baby cakes." As I walked past I slapped her on her hard, plastic ass. She gave me a soft squeal of delight. "Lets get you dressed and get the shop opened." We headed down the service stairs that led to our store, the one I'd opened not long after--

Not long after I'd changed both our lives four years earlier.

That time, which seemed like so long ago, Kim and I had come to an agreement. I didn't want her to be a frozen version of herself forever, and she quickly came to realize that while I would change her, it would break my heart to do so.

So she convinced me to go ahead with the spell--but to change a few things along the way.

She still wanted to be changed into a mannequin, but she gave me the ability to freeze and unfreeze her whenever I wanted. It was my idea, though, to keep her plastic when she was unfrozen--a living mannequin, so to speak. It was a little freaky at first getting used to seeing her walk around the house like some kind of plastic robot without a vagina or anus, and these hard, round, perfect breasts without nipples, but after a week or two she I only saw her as the Kim I know and love.

And as for me . . ..

She convinced me to play to my fantasies. Remember, I wanted to dress like a slut all the time? Well, we'd changed that just a little, and while I wasn't totally way from the slut thing I ended up looking like one dressed in fetish outfits--outfits that formed around my body as soon as I was dressed in something "normal". And not only that, but the spell that I'd worked upon myself left Kim as the only one who could dress me, and in a way form the sort of outfit she wanted to see me in. (An after effect of the spell that my appearance would sometimes change as well. Such is life.)

So, in letting the spell change us, Kim had gotten what she'd wanted: the ability to become a mannequin. Which usually during every day while she was modeling a new outfit in the display window of the shop. And outfit that I, or someone else, had to put on her, because like any good mannequin she had to be disassembled in order to be dressed.

And I was bonded to Kim in a way that no other woman could be--for without her, I would either spend my life walking about naked, or walking about trapped forever in an outfit that would never, ever leave my body.

We entered the store. Kim went to get the outfit that I was going to dress her in--the hot pink latex catsuit. I'd freeze her, take her apart, dress her, put her back together . . . stuff she loved a so much. I began getting the window ready, and when I was done with her I'd start setting things out for the day.

It was a routine we'd gone through almost every day since our bonding.

And one that, I hoped, will continue for so many decades to come.

Such was our life at Glinda's Erotic Clothing and Magic Shop.

And life was good.

The End

Spam and pointless rambling posts...

well its started to happen and i've had to delete a few of them already - spam comments. some start looking legit but then you click on a link and its to a porn site. others were just full on links to pay sites!!! x(

then other people are just filling up the comments on extremely self indulgent rambles. please stop.

its good that you want to contribute, but _focus_ please and post comments that are relevent.

if you have a suggestion or an essay even you would like me to put up - then please do write it and submit it - i'd love to have some real contributions.

i hope this doesn't all get out of hand and i need to delete the public access...

annoyed

xxx

Mannequin corset - more info

i managed to track down the maker and yes he does do them in latex too, but sadly not as full body as i'd personally like.

he wrote;

"I also make corsets out of heavy rubber 2 mm thick industrial rubber, the biggest item I made out of the rubber was a dress. I can't make the total body corset out of the rubber, it is just to hard, the material is resisting to much.

I have a web site, but it is still 1/2 way ready, so a lot of pictures are not opening, the up site is that a lot are opening. :-)

info and larger pictures of non opening thumbnails can always be asked at jvanderklis@chello.nl

on www.bizarredesign.nl the new website is going to be build. now it is only a front page with a link to my home page.

here is the place too look.

jeroen van der klis"

xx

Dolly poses at myfetishdiary

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Latex buying for basics...

molded rubber is a good starting point for those new to this wonderful sensual, kinky and addictive material. its cheap if sourced properly and will get you a basic mix and match outfit.

one place i keep going back too (well twice now) is in the uk called www.denber.co.uk which also wholesales.

now their photographs are admittedly pretty cheap but so are the prices. my recommendations are:

- panties/briefs - short or high waisted ones
- gloves - from ellbow to shoulder length!!!! yeah!!
- skirts - not the best cut but good to have. pay the extra for the heavyweight if you plan to wear out at all.
- dresses - a bit hit and miss there. depends if you fit into their shape.
- stockings - again somewhat varrible. shapes not the best and they can sometimes be way to heavy and the top can cut into your thighs. good to try but see if they will make them thinner for you.

avoid;
- trousers - just recieved them after ordering them last week. fit is bad and i bet the crotch will rip sooner than later
- colour red and clear - both are pretty tacky. unless you like that or course.
- short skirts - just too short. might as well just wear the panties out over a pair of good tights.

enjoy....

xx

Mannequin mask found...

thanks Rotwang for the link - it seems its a plastic attachment for the standard styro foam heads used in shops. i've not seem them before but they do work well in the photo don't you think?

what also makes them work best is getting the wig and pose right. it all builds into an overall effect.

auction ends today but there's one on ebay right now:

NEW FEMALE FOAM MANNEQUIN HEAD PLASTIC FACE NR WIG HAT or search for Item number: 7596221857

head diameter is about 20 inches so keep that in mind if you bid. i'd go for it myself but i'm saving up for something more permenant ;-)

xx

A video or a dreamlike fantasy made real....

montreal based latex designer polymorphe has a video made featuring rubber vixin bianca beauchamp:

http://www.polymorphe.com/video/

it's available in three resolutions from 9 to 45megs and can be saved onto your computer for viewing.

the music track is nice and dreamy and stands alone perfectly fine imho, but with the addition of Dominic Vincent's visuals of bianca in giant balloons its positively brilliant. now if he would make a full fetish film....

xxx

the future of fashion in 2001....

i was out scouring bookshops on saturday looking for the philip k dick one which i evently bought on amazon (typical), but for 5$ i found a book published in 1982 called Fashion 2001 by lucille khoronak in a large oversized format.

in it various top designers of the day are asked to predict the future. sketches and sometimes images are made. most of the photo's have a 80's new romatic look too them with stiff poses to match. curiously there is a sketch for the shoe's i'm after in it.

the only real image i liked (but the books a laugh anyway) is what appears to be an EGL in white...

xx

Dolly dreams....

its happend a couple times now, lastly in the wee hours of this morning. a dolly dream.

the first one i was somewhere and i could see a latex doll sucking me in, she was all black and glossy like wet tar, i wanted to merge with her but held back. stupid of me.

today's was had me at work with lots of computers around and the person next to me was an actual living bratz doll with brown short hair. she was soo cute.. i so badly wanted to kiss her.
-
maybe thinking of me as a dolly is affecting my dreams?

xx

A fetish in adverting....

i was sent this from the uk by blackice along with some other scans he's kindly done, thanks - its an amazing image. can you get stockings or pantyhose large enough to get into like this?

apparently yes....

the blue image from a dance experiment. but i've also seen them from far east zentai manufactures. photo is included but i couldn't find any on ebay at the moment. if you want one maybe email a seller you've purchased from before.

xx

Life immitating art of vise versa?

more images of an allen jones table and stand made from mannequins.

as you can see the art has inspired some play... or was it the other away around?

xx

Training corsets for a doll or a mannequin..

another find from my backups. anyone know who made them and if there are more in the series? a link perhaps?

i'd prefer something in latex, but i know someone who wouldn't argue if i put her into one of these.

xx

To be a mannequin...

seems the best way to do it is have a perfectly crafted mask that looks like other mannequins.

i haven't a clue where these were taken or what store. they might have been from james mannequin site based out of toronto, canada.

but finding these again on my backups gave me an idea. maybe someone should make my scene barbie heads or even bratz's.... if nothing else it would make a great halloween costume. although i imagine some of us would want to wear them more than once a year....

xx

Displayed in a tube...

the classic doll packaging is a clear plastic tube and this idea was also used alot in old B 50's sci-fi films. this island earth was one in particular plus all those episodes of the invaders.

something about being a freshly minted doll in these containers always appealed too me. and then i remember a fancy club i was at in nyc several years ago where they had 'art' scattered around - and the art in question was mannequins in hard core designer leather fetish gear just posed there for all to admire.

i so wished to swap places with them and i finally found a shot of one to share with you all.

xx

Make overs for dolls

i didn't even know that it was possible or there was a market for it. but if you have a my size barbie and getting tired of her and wished she was cher or even a star trek character then get over too; www.barbieville.com

now if i were shipped to her - could she make me over into a barbie?

xx

In search of Phlip K Dick

i spent a bit of saturday combing used book stores in search of the philip k dick collection that had the 'perky pat' story in it. no luck at all. lots of hard covers of the Minority Report version.

seems there has been alot of compilations of his short stories and that the contents change from publisher to publisher. for example the new release of Minority Report version doesn't have it in it, but the old one does - which is above.

so i gave up chasing and ordered it off amazon.

anyone reread it yet?

xx

Doll markings and tattoo's...

its a follow on to the idea of taking a felt tip marker to myself to make doll joints.

http://www.decalpaper.com/tattoo.html

is a place to get inkjet and laser paper to make your own transfer tattoo's. so litterly anything can be made and applied to your body. do a google and you will find other companies but the idea is pretty well the same. anyone used it - does it work well?

for obsessives out there you can also order you own designs on proper temporary tattoo's:

http://www.tattoogiant.com/

1,000 1.5" x 1.5" inch tattoo's for 70$, or 2"x2" ones too.

they also have a wide range of existing ones. i've not gone through them but there's bound to be one that would make a good dolly logo i can apply to myself and any other willing dolls.....

xxx

Another look at Deviant Art...

and boy that was a mistake. type in doll in the search and get 65,512 results!!

one i liked was by an illustrator and photographer from the UK:
http://dollseye.deviantart.com/

meanwhile some more searchers and mannequins only had 692 results and barbies had a heathy 5,599 results but from the first few pages of viewing they seemed to be pretty bad compared to the other catergories.

xx

Hypnosis trial and a comment..

i just read a really good first hand experience on hypnosis session on the yahoo group dollcollective.

the post is from blaseyblas about a session with his partner. things didn't work terribly well and asked for some guidence and 'Bradley' who posts on the comments here almost religiously came back with a long and very detailed help.

its worth reading both with the reply to get a better understanding on how it all works. the thread starts here and is developing in an interesting manner with alot of too-ing and fro-ing.

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/dollcollective/message/320

xx

Horror dolls in b/w.....

anyone know the names and plot summary of the twilight zone and alfred hitchcock presents that had dolls in them?

one involved a swap and thats all i've been told. is it included in the dvd box set of season one?

thanks

xx

Plastic molded shoes... just like Barbie

one thing i remember from my barbie owning days was all the plastic boots and shoes they had. when walking around the village window shoping i found the above shoes which are an adult equivilant to barbie's plastic ones.

sort of a designer variation of the jelly shoes, these are much more slick and come in a range of colours but apparently limited standard sizes at the shop otherwise i would of snaped up a pair.

http://www.patriciafield.com/index.asp?PageAction=VIEWPROD&ProdID=132

and looking at the slide show here it seems like ankle length boots are the next step in his collection.

http://www.vogue.co.uk/Shows/Photos/Default.aspx?showID=2257&type=show&pageNo=1

and here's all of them online in the "Love Robots" collection!!:

http://www.melissaaustralia.com.au/2005/store.asp?nav=store&pagetype=category&categoryid=1002

being a bit (well alot) of a material fetishist, i did really like the soft plastic vinyl they were made from and this gave me the idea, well maybe much longer boots - thigh length could be made.

or maybe even a full mannequin shape to be cast and the could be worn....

xx

60's tv show reruns....

have alot to answer for IMHO.

just thinking back there's certain elements that stick in your brain when young watching these endless repeats from a bygone age.

one that comes to mind is land of the giants;

a couple of scene's that come to mind, people being taped to microscope slides - maybe a precursor to saran wrap games? and being put on display or in test tubes/bottles. all very doll like. probably an episode or two where they are actually used as dolls? they also had really nice smooth coloured tights, very short mini skirts and those glossy pvc knee boots of the time which i adore.

if anyone can find more images from land of the giants besides the one i posted, please email them in. feel free to suggest other shows that sparked your fetish in later life too.

xx

A month of daily latex wearing.....

it may not seem a major accomplishment to some, but i'm now on the last day of four weeks - a full month - in latex panties.

when i first started this i had read the various accounts of long term latex wear including the one by the latex lady who wears it 23/7 with the assistance of her own maid. these inspired me to give in to my latex fetish and have a go and see how far it leads me.

a great deal of support and encouragement came from tsg and i thank her profusely for it.

i still can't seem to wear it to sleep in, but i'm slowly adding more to my wardrobe. sunday is now my latex catsuit day and i'll wear it from waking till bedtime. i hope sometime soon i can sleep in it which let me extend my periods in it to 23/7.

someday i'll be as comfortable and complete in a full coverage latex catsuit as i am in my plan every day clothes. i'll then be able to wear a catsuit hidden beneath my clothes and don a hood a gloves when in private and i'll truely be a latex doll.

sadly that day is not there yet, but the first permenant step has been taken and i think i'm well on my way to surrendering to the latex doll i want to be.

xx

A new great story by TSG - "The Stand"

The Stand
by TSG

When it first arrived all Stephanie could do was look upon the object and wonder does that thing really work? She’d heard of these things on the Internet, but had never seen one, a real one, up close.
It didn’t look all that different from a regular mannequin stand. It had a round, flat base surrounding a slightly curved metal pole that rose to just a little above a woman’s crotch. Then end of the stand was a little different from the blunt ends that made up most mannequin stands. This one was slender and terminated in a smooth, rounded tip. Directly behind the stand was a small contact switch that depressed flush into the base, only a few inches from the edge.
Stephanie couldn’t help but be fascinated. “Is that what I think it is?” she asked her manager.
Her manager nodded. “Yeah.” She pulled the last of the crate wrapping away from the stand. “Thought I’d never see one.”
“How’d we get a transformer stand?” Stephanie had read about these just the other night. “I thought there were only like 100 of these made?”
“There are.” Stephanie’s manager gave her a wink. “I know someone . . . okay, I’ve blown someone who works for the company that makes these. He used a little influence to get us one.” The woman ran her hands over the tip of the stand. “I can’t wait to see this thing in action.”
Stephanie had seen video of one of these stands at work. It showed everything from beginning to end. The woman who’d used it had been completely naked, nothing covering her up, so it was even more impressive . . . Stephanie remembered how the woman had straddled the device, putting the tip of the stand up inside her vagina, the look of pleasure on her face as it penetrated her, and then someone pushed the button in the back, there was a momentary shiver that seemed to pass through the woman’s body, and like ten seconds later—she was a solid yet segmented hunk of plastic, a living girl turn into a mannequin.
They’d taken the girl apart, put her back together (leaving her hips attached to the stand, however), then put her back together and pressed the button again. Fifteen seconds after that the segmentation lines vanished, the skin color changed from flesh-colored plastic to actual flesh tone, and with a loud sigh the woman shook herself and slid off the stand’s point, none the worse for wear. “Who’s going to use it?” asked Stephanie.
The manager shrugged. “I’ve got a couple of girls lined up,” she said, not noticing the gleam in Stephanie’s eye. “One of them’s a professional model, but . . .” She tapped the stand once more. “I don’t think she’s ever modeled while frozen stiff in the window of a fetish boutique before.” She picked up the stand and placed it off away from the other unused mannequin stands. “I was told that some women can’t take being—solidified like that.”
“What do you mean?” Stephanie wanted to say something, but she couldn’t. She didn’t think that anything she’d say would make her manager believe . . ..
“Well, you freeze up and go all solid inside.” Stephanie followed her manager out of the back room. “You don’t breath, your heart stops beating, you can’t blink or speak. You’re no different than any other plastic model. Except—“
“Except what?”
“You’re still alive on the inside.” They both walked past the dressing rooms, the manager closing a door as she walked into the main store. “You can feel everything, but there’s nothing you can do about it. If you have an itch, you itch. You feel hungry or like you have to piss, you keep feeling that way.” The manager waltzed over to where the unopened box of new vibrators had been left. “It’s supposed to drive some people nuts.”
Stephanie removed the box cutter from the leather maid’s apron she wore. “I read that if you’re having an orgasm—“
“You keep feeling like you’re having it,” her manager said, finishing the sentence. “I read the same thing. Apparently it’s true.” She smirked. “I guess that’s why some women . . . loosen up a bit before getting on that thing.” She gently kicked the box. “You want to get these up in the next hour or so, okay?”
Stephanie nodded as she sliced the box open. For the next 90 minutes, while she labeled and stocked vibrators, all she could think about was that stand. The magical stand that could take a girl—a living, breathing girl—and make her . . . make her . . ..
She couldn’t think about it without getting excited. Stephanie had two passions: fetish clothing and anything that involved girls getting stiff and doll-like. She tried to combine both at the same time as much as possible, and in some of the clubs she frequented she was better known by her moniker “Stiff Steph.”
But the ultimate fantasy—being able to actually turn into a doll or mannequin—was forever beyond her reach. Or so she’d always thought. When the Transequin Stand hit the market two years ago she’d begun fantasizing about getting a job as a “freeze model”, one of the few girls who made a living becoming living mannequins. Stephanie’s manager had been right about one thing: not everyone could take being turned to plastic. There were stories on the internet from women who’d talked about how they enjoyed the experience, but trying to find comments from people who were horrified by what had happened—now, that was a different story. Steph had heard of one rumor about a girl who went nuts after a few hours and when they turned the stand off and reverted her, she wouldn’t move: she’d remained frozen as if she were still a mannequin. That could have all been bullshit, but then—
Stephanie didn’t care. She’d tried getting hired to model, but she was turned down—“too heavy”, she was told. At the time she’d weighed 135 pounds, and for a girl who was 5’ 5” she didn’t think she was that heavy. Anyway, she’d told the agency that she was interested in modeling leather outfits and stuff like that, but no, they didn’t want to hear about her sob stories, they just wanted some beanpole chick with her collarbones showing hooked up on a stand rather than her.
Since then she’d slimmed down a bit—just a bit over 125—and thought she looked great in leather corsets, but she hadn’t considered trying out again. She figured it would be a waste of time, that what the firms that handled this sort of work were looking for tall, thin girls—not someone like Stephanie.
Still . . . she so desperately wanted to tell her boss that, yes, I’ll get on that stand for you, and you don’t even have to pay me! I’ll do it! Again, fear of being turned down held her back. She didn’t want her boss to think she was some kind of . . . freak or something. But why would she? thought Stephanie. She got the stand in her so she could get some girl on it, so she must think it’s all right-- Stephanie shook her head. Naw, she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t ask her boss about being the one who’d ride the rod in the window.
When she took the box in the back room, she couldn’t help but let her eyes wander over that special stand sitting in the corner . . ..

Stephanie was closing up the store, pulling the shades and turning off the lights. She didn’t get to do this very often, but she enjoyed her time here, alone, with time to think and look at things and sometimes try on outfits . . . something she wasn’t ever suppose to do. She knew if Carol, her manager, ever knew about that last she’d loose her job, but she’d always been very careful about not damaging anything she tried on, and making certain it was back where she’d found it in the morning. And besides, it was Friday, and Friday was supposed to be a time for fun and excitement and enjoying one’s self.
As soon as Stephanie was finished she started pulling out a few items she wanted to try on. There was this red leather mini dress, oh, so hot, and some matching gloves, and these totally adorable red thigh high platform boots . . . Stephanie shivered with delight just thinking about the outfit embracing her body. Sure, if someone were to walk in on her while she was putting it on she’d have been in trouble, but it was almost eleven PM, and the odds of someone walking in were null.
Twenty minutes later Stephanie was parading about the back room in her borrowed outfit, checking herself out in one of the spare mirrors they kept handy in case a customer wanted to see what they looked like dressed up. Stephanie examined how she looked. “Fucking hot,” she mumbled, knowing it to be right. As much as she loved wearing stuff like this, doing these after hours try-ons was about as close as she could get to ever owning an outfit like this. Hell, the boots and gloves alone would eat up a sizable portion of her salary, fuck ever owning the dress—
After she was done staring at her image in the mirror, Stephanie slinked over to where the Transequin Stand stood. It had been two weeks since she’d seen it unpacked, and Carol was still unable to find a model for her new toy. The issue was one of money; apparently just having one of these stands wasn’t enough to get women to come running to one’s establishment wanting to be put on display. Oh, no. The ones who looked good on these stands wanted remuneration for their time, and time, it turned out, equaled a lot of motherfuckin’ Benjamins. Carol was more than a little pissed off that she now had her own stand, but couldn’t afford to pay a model for her time upon the damn thing. While money was a real factor, Stephanie wondered if Carol was more pissed off about all the dick drippings she had to swallow to make her newest possession a reality.
Stephanie ran her fingers lovingly over the business end of the stand. She was still eager to model for Carol, to be her girl in the window, but after the last expletive-riddled tirade against “stuck up bitches wanting too much money to be fucking plastic girls”, Stephanie figured she’d wait until the weekend was over before saying something.
The stand had been on Stephanie’s mind these last two weeks. She kept imagining herself mounted on it, the tip inside her, her body frozen solid, her senses keeping her mind filled with sight and sound and the feel of clothes and people touching her . . . Stephanie felt the wetness creep into that spot between her legs like it always did when she thought of being a living mannequin. It had always been a strong fantasy with her, being turned into a mannequin, becoming something beautiful and still, yet always aware of everything going on around you. A living statue, so to speak; something that people could look at and appreciate and even love if they so wanted.
And Stephanie . . . she so wanted to be loved.
Stephanie knew it was a good thing she’d decided not to put on a leather thong, because it’d be ripe with her scent right now. Stephanie didn’t need to glide her fingers through her slit, because she knew it was soaking wet. She looked at the stand. There’s no one around, she though. Why not give it a ride? It doesn’t hurt to pretend, you know.
Getting up on her tippy-toes, Stephanie straddled the tip of the stand and slowly lowered herself onto the vibrator-like protuberance. As it slid into her Stephanie moaned softly. The tip was so smooth, so soft, yet there was something there, something slightly electrical, that was stimulating her vaginal walls in a way nothing else ever had. She’d never read about this effect before—then again, would models actually talk about how sexually stimulating being mount like this was? Better to keep the secret than to let everyone know the truth.
Her feet now firmly on the ground, Stephanie relaxed as much as she could. She had felt the tip push its way through her cervix, yet there hadn’t been any pain, only a slight disorientation followed by a feeling of light pleasure. Stephanie thought this was just too fucking incredible. She felt so good, so . . . alive. She wanted to rub her breasts, run her fingers over her tummy, play with her clit—yet she resisted all these temptations. She was there for one thing and one thing only.
She was there to pose.
Planting her feet slightly apart, she stood straight, put her arms to the side like she wanted to place them upon her hips, and turned her head slightly to the right. A smile crossed her lips as she imagined just how she looked. Beautiful, there no doubt about it. Stephanie knew she’d look a hell of a lot better standing in the window, but that was totally out of the question for the moment. Right now, this back room posing would do.
Stephanie struck a couple of other poses before she realized what was missing: she couldn’t see herself. Sure, to get a mirror and set it up before the stand would mean getting off the stand, but the effort would be worth it. The only problem Stephanie saw was that being on the stand felt . . . so fucking good. An orgasm was building, a really big one by the feel, and Stephanie just wanted to let it build, let it grow, let it get bigger and bigger, all the while as she was posing and standing still and pretending that she was nothing more than a living mannequin wearing something sexy, something that people were going to get excited seeing her wear, seeing her in the window, wanting to know what was going on inside the plastic girl’s mind—
The orgasm was almost here, and Stephanie felt her knees growing weak from the effort of holding it back. Oh, yes, this was gonna be a big one . . . a really big one. Stephanie’s left knee buckled a little. She put out her hands to steady herself—after all, it wouldn’t do to fall over, not with the stand inside me; I don’t want to damage it—
As she managed to keep from falling, Stephanie didn’t notice that she’d brushed her hand against the stack of boxes to her left. The box on the top of the stack—the one filed with the newest batch of pink latex dildos—crashed to the floor just behind the stand, scattering pink dildos everywhere. A couple of them hit hard and rebounded off the floor. As luck—or perhaps fate—would have it, one of those came down right on the stand’s activation button—
As soon as the unexpected charge hit Stephanie, she understood that something was amiss. This thing—this wasn’t an orgasm. She could feel the orgasm getting ready to let go, but this new thing was something completely different. For about ten seconds Stephanie felt the charge filling her body, feeling as if it were following every nerve ending down her legs and arms and up her spine. When it was finished doing whatever it was suppose to be doing—
That was when Stephanie knew she was in a bit of a pinch.
First she tried moving. She couldn’t. She tried to speak. Nothing. She couldn’t blink, but she had her sight. She noticed then that she wasn’t breathing. There was no heartbeat. She didn’t find it tiring to hold her arms slightly up and to her sides—
Oh, fuck no, she thought. The stand! It turned on somehow and . . . I’m a mannequin! I’m a fuckin’ mannequin!
Being vaguely aware of the box of dildos falling to the floor, Stephanie surmised that one of them must have hit the switch and activated the stand. And with it still filling her vagina, well, it didn’t take a fuckin’ rocket scientist to know that whatever magic it enacted upon people had been enacted upon her.
And now here Stephanie was, turned to solid but segmented plastic, wearing a leather dress and boots and gloves. And unable to do anything about getting out of her predicament.
I am so going to get fired, she thought. Carol was suppose to come in first thing in the morning to set up one of the real mannequins, and she was gonna come in through the back door to the store room and find her stuck . . . First off, Stephanie wasn’t suppose to be trying on any of the store’s clothing—not like this, at least—and second, Carol was gonna shit when she discovered that Stephanie had been fucking around with the stand. Fuck me. She’s gonna freak and fire me, Stephanie sighed in her head. She wished she could move, but she knew better than to try. There was no way that was going to happen.
Well, she thought, if nothing else I should at least enjoy my time like this—

Stephanie snapped awake when she heard the service door to the back room opening. Her body involuntarily started to stretch, but her mind shut that action down only a few seconds later. You can’t stretch, dummy, she chided herself. You’re a goddamn mannequin. You can’t move at all.
She hadn’t really noticed the passing of time, but she knew she hadn’t been asleep, either. She had thought she might sleep, but fifteen minutes into her new state of being, Stephanie realized that sleeping was going to be a bit of a chore due to her body being “stuck” in a state of constant semi-arousal.
It was the pre-orgasmic state she’d been in right before the stand had turned her into a mannequin. Once she’d turn to plastic her ability to orgasm had . . . well, been put on hold, she guessed. She’d read about this sort of thing happening, but she hadn’t actually thought it would turn out feeling like this. She wasn’t peaking, and the feeling damn sure wasn’t going away. It was like she was constantly horny, but she couldn’t do anything about it.
At first she didn’t think it’d be that much of a problem, but after an hour . . . after an hour all Stephanie could think about was cumming. Cumming long and hard and as soon as she could. But how would that be possible? She couldn’t play with herself, and as far as she knew someone playing with her wouldn’t make her release.
This is going to be hell if I feel like I wanna cum all the time, she’d realized about three hours after getting frozen. The only thing that Stephanie could so was to put herself in a sort of trance and just let the time fly by—
And now time had flown and Carol would be walking through the door. Stephanie could only imagine the look on her face when she’d spy her here.
Only it wasn’t Carol who came into the back room, it was some short little blond that Stephanie had never seen before. Unless . . . she remembered hearing yesterday that Carol had hired a new girl to work part time. Apparently the girl had only been working a couple of days, and never when Stephanie was in the shop. Great way to meet for the first time, chuckled Stephanie.
The girl gave Stephanie a good, long look, smiling after a few seconds of checking her out. Stephanie got something of a rush from the girl’s reaction: Wow, she really digs me! It did appear that the girl, in some fashion, found Stephanie appealing. Or at least thought the outfit she was wearing was great. Either way, Stephanie liked what had just transpired.
“I didn’t know they made these things so realistic,” the girl mumbled before leaving Stephanie behind. She could hear the girl getting things ready in the main part of the store, but her mind was more on how she’d acted around her. She really thought I looked great, thought Stephanie. She thought I was the real thing. Well, Stephanie really was the real thing. Until someone turned off the stand, Stephanie was going to stay a mannequin. I wonder how long—
Suddenly the girl was standing in front of her. She examined Stephanie as she softly said, “It was nice of Stephanie to have this thing set up for me.” She looked behind her. “Course, she could have picked up this shit before she left—“ The girl bent down, re-boxed all the scattered dildos, and placed them back behind the stack of boxes from which they’d fallen.
“Well, I guess I better get this done,” the girl said, standing before Stephanie once more. Without an inkling of what was going to happen next, the girl reached up, put both hands on the sides of Stephanie’s head, and popped it off her body.
Stephanie wanted to scream, but being unable to do so, instead tried to rationalize what had just happened. Her head had been pulled from her body. She still felt . . . yeah, she felt that same horniness, but as for the feel of the leather clothing against her body, the stand nuzzled up inside the area that used to be her vagina, none of that existed any longer. Apparently it was true that the mind was the center of the body, and with her mind now disconnected from the rest of her body, all that remained on the stand was little more than what you’d find connect to the head of any other mannequin. Albeit a lot nicer looking, but still—
The girl laid Stephanie’s head on a nearby workbench and proceeded to disassemble the rest of her body. While she wasn’t looking direction at the spot where she’d been standing, Stephanie could see “her” body being broken down, watching it happen with a kind of detached amazement. It was so strange, watching yourself being taken apart—
The girl began taking each of Stephanie’s “pieces” out of the room, and Stephanie knew what was going on: she was being set up in the store. Or maybe even the window! After all, that outfit she had been wearing was tasteful enough that anyone going by wasn’t going to freak out and start screaming about the smut being peddled in full view of everyone . . . yeah, it was possible that her body was gonna be put in the window where people walking down the street could see her! Fuck, yeah!
Finally there was nothing left in the backroom, just the stand that had transformed Stephanie, and Stephanie’s head. Stephanie assumed she was setting up her body, but the fact that she hadn’t come back and gotten the stand—that left Stephanie feeling a little uneasy. I wonder if she’s setting me up on another stand? And it wouldn’t be the transforming stand; no, rather, it would be just another run of the mill stand. Now this was making Stephanie very worried. She knew she could be set up that way—she’d read about a boutique in Paris where they’d transform four girls at a time with one stand and move them to other stands around the store. There wasn’t a problem there. All one had to do to change them back was to put them back on the stand—while it was on—and then turn it off.
The only problem Stephanie faced was this girl obviously didn’t know her, so she didn’t know that she was a real girl. And that the stand had transformed her. She was working along the assumption that she—Stephanie—had set up a mannequin the night before, and all the girl had to do was put it on display.
So, wondered Stephanie, who’s gonna change me back?
Finally, the girl came for what was left of Stephanie—her head. She picked her up and carried her into the store. Because Stephanie was cradled in the girl’s arms, she couldn’t see just where she was going. After only a few moment she was lifted up, attached to a body—
And right away Stephanie felt something wasn’t right.
Stephanie could feel her body, and that was the problem: her body didn’t feel as it should. She seemed to be standing on tip toes, which she hadn’t been when she’d transformed herself. Her outfit felt as if it were hugging her body tightly, which the dress hadn’t. The gloves she had on felt different; not leather, but maybe—
Oh, shit, she suddenly thought. This isn’t my body! It’s the Mistress’ body! The view Stephanie had of the store once the girl stepped back confirmed her suspicion. Stephanie’s head was no only on her own body. Instead, the girl and placed her on top of the mannequin everyone in the story called “The Mistress”, a display Kim had attired in a tight latex corset and gloves and stocking, with a pair of ballet boots on her feet and a cat-o-nine-tales in her hands. No one knew where Kim had found the torso with the large breasts and hips and the tiny waist, but then no one had ever really cared up until now . . . for now those breasts and hips are waist were Stephanie’s, and—
And no one is gonna know it’s me! They’re gonna think it’s the Mistress with another head on her body, that’s all! She started to calm a little when she realized that someone in the shop would see her face and figure out something was different, that the mannequin over in the latex clothing section looked an awful lot like Steff—
The girl putting her together pulled her hair off, just as if it were a wig (which, Stephanie knew, it was), and put another wig on, this one a very long and almost burgundy wig with severe bangs that draped down into Stephanie’s eyes. “There,” said the girl, “You look hotter ‘an shit now.” She stepped back once more, admired her work, and left Stephanie to stand there in all her latex booted glory, wondering what Kim would say when she arrived—

Alicia came into the store about fifteen minutes before she was due to clock in. Alicia wasn’t the most punctual of people, but she knew Kim was opening the store today, and given she’s been caught late the last couple of times she’d come to work, Alicia was in no mood to end up on that girl’s shit list this morning. Given the ass warming Kim had given her the last time, she was fearful that if she’d shown up late today, she’d be sent packing.
However, when she walked into the store itself, it wasn’t Kim behind the counter but rather some girl she’d never seen before. “Hi, uh,” mumbled Alicia. “Who are you? And what are you doing here?”
The girl looked up and smiled. “Hi. I’m Mary,” she said. She looked down at something out of view below the counter. “You must be Alicia.”
“Yeah.” She stepped closer to the counter. “You must be new.”
“Not really,” said Mary. “Well . . . I’m Kim’s sister.”
“Really? I didn’t know Kim had a sister.”
Mary laughed again, louder this time. “Yeah, well, there are times when we don’t like to admit we’re related—“
“You don’t look a lot like her.”
“That’s because we have different fathers . . . Anyway, I’m gonna be filling in for Kim for awhile.”
As much as Alicia didn’t care for Kim, she didn’t like the way that sounded. “Why, what happened?”
“She was coming over to my place last night to go over some business—“
“Business?”
“Yeah . . . she probably never told you, but I own this place.”
No, that’s something you’re bitch of a sister never mentioned. “I . . . didn’t know that,” said Alicia instead.
Mary nodded. “Anyway, we were going to go over a few things, and on the way to my place Kim got broadsided pretty bad.”
“No shit!”
“Yeah. She’s in the hospital now; her right leg’s like broken in two places.”
Alicia didn’t like that sound of that at all. “That sucks.”
“Could have been worse . . . the doctor told me she came within a few inches of having her spine severed . . .” Mary left out the part about she suspected Kim had blown the light at the intersection where the accident had occurred, but she kept that to herself. The cops were saying it was an honest accident and that it appeared to have been the other driver’s fault . . . that didn’t stop Mary from believing her dumb-ass sister has played a part in landing her own ass in the hospital. “Anyway,” she said, getting back on track with this Alicia girl, “I’m going to be filling in over here once in a while . . .” She looked the young black girl over like she was sizing her up for a contest. Kim had said something about keeping an eye on Alicia, that she liked to fuck off a bit, but then Mary had to consider the source of that comment . . . “I’m gonna have to rely on you to help out a bit more around here today.” Mary stepped out from around the counter. “You think your up for that?”
Alicia had been hoping for a chance to prove herself. Sure, she fucked off a bit when there wasn’t a lot to do, but Kim was always up in her ass about shit, and that was part of the reason she had such a bad attitude with the girl— “I can handle it,” she told Mary. Alicia figured if she was gonna impress someone, it might as well be the real boss, and not her broken-legged-ass-sister.
Though she didn’t completely believe Alicia, Mary needed all the help she could get at the moment. She’d keep an eye on her, but for now she was getting the benefit of the doubt. “Fantastic,” she said. Mary pointed around the room. “I’ve redressed a couple of mannequins, so I need you to get the register opened and take care of the store for a couple of hours while I deal with other shit.” She grinned as she headed towards the back room. “You got that.”
“Not a big thang,” Alicia told her, grinning back broadly. “Hey, when’s Kim comin’ back?”
Mary shrugged. “Hard to say. She got fucked up pretty good. My guess would be you’re not gonna see her back in here for at least four months, probably more like six.”

What Stephanie had thought might be a 12 hour stint as a plastic display model stretched out into a day, then two, then a week, and a few more, and a few after that . . . between her blackout periods and those times when she seemed not to notice the hours passing by, all Stephanie could say without a doubt was that she’d been a mannequin for longer than a couple of months—if she could actually say this to anyone.
The news that Kim wouldn’t be returning to the store right away dropped Stephanie’s spirits considerably. As far as Stephanie knew, only Kim and she knew about the stand and what it did. She was very certain that Kim had never mentioned the stand to anyone else, although she couldn’t be sure. She did know that in the days following the arrival of Mary she hadn’t seen the stand in the store proper.
Then there had come the news that “Stephanie” was missing. When she didn’t show up for work no one really thought anything about it. When she didn’t show up the next day she was due to work Mary asked Alicia to head over to her place and see if she was okay. Alicia was only gone five minutes before she returned and told Mary that Stephanie’s car was parked just down the block, and maybe they should call the cops. The cops came, interviewed people, told Mary that it looked as if Stephanie had never made it home, and they promised they’d look into the situation. But, as Stephanie heard days (or was it weeks? Or months?) later when Alicia and Trini—another of the girls who worked the store—were talking, Alicia told Trini that she’d heard from Mary that the police said it looked like Stephanie had vanished, and they were assuming that someone might have snatched her, and if they did find her . . . well, shit girl, as Alicia had said, ‘ol Steff ain’t gonna be in any shape to tell the cops who did what to her, know what I mean?
Of course, Stephanie was right there, listening to the girls, screaming I’m right here, you dumb bitches! The fact that she was the only one listening to what she was saying proved to be the real problem . . ..
Stephanie watched and listened to everything that went on in the store. Since she was “The Mistress”, there wasn’t a lot of reason for anyone to do anything to her but dust her off once in a while. Trini dusted her a couple of days after the police had come to the store, and that dusting answered Stephanie’s question about what she could feel—and whether she could be stimulated. The moment the duster touched her, Stephanie—who’d been trapped in her “body” in a near-orgasmic state—came about as hard as a person could cum. She’d blacked out for a moment, so strong the orgasm had been upon her. And as Trini continued to dust her Stephanie felt her body beginning to react to being touched and tickled and . . . oh, damn, it was just so fucking incredible. Though Trini had only spent about five minutes getting her nice and clean, to Stephanie it had felt like she’d spent the night being fucked deaf, dumb and blind. It had been as if her whole body had turned into a gigantic clitoris, and someone had spent a couple of hours licking her.
At least now, in her frozen state, Stephanie knew she had something to look forward to on a regular basis.
The longer she stayed a mannequin, the more Stephanie began to accept, if not enjoy, her new life. She was only a thing, an object meant to be seen, but in her fantasies she’d never really understood what it meant to be put “on display”. The sly looks she’d get from people . . . it was amazing that so few would actually look at her. Everyone seemed to gaze at her out of the corner of their eye, as if they were afraid to make contact. Stephanie knew she had to appear—well, dominating, but as a “real” person she’d never thought about the effect The Mistress had on folks. Now that she was The Mistress . . . completely different story, as they say.
She couldn’t help but notice the number of guys who’d steal looks at her and suddenly seemed to have a problem with tightness in their pants. Of the women who’d glance at her and lick their lips, or surreptitiously rub a breast or touch their crotch. There was the one couple who looked at her full one, as if they wanted her to come down off her stand and command them. There was one guy who, after spending twenty minutes trying not to look at her, seemed to ejaculate in her pants before running out of the store. And the girl who’d come into the store every week to buy something; who would stand before her for thirty seconds or so, always whispering, “Command me, ma’m. Command me to do anything you want.”
Of course, if there was one thing that Stephanie wanted, it would be the stand.
The other thing about being an inanimate object was hearing and seeing private things that some of the girls would rather never be reviled. There was Trini, who reviled herself as the cocksucking queen of the store. When no one was around she’d call her boyfriend and describe in detail about how she was going to suck him off like he’d never been sucked off before. There was one time she used a dildo to demonstrate for a girlfriend just how one should go about giving the perfect blowjob. And then there was the time this guy . . . Trini had convinced him to stay behind after she’d closed up for the night, and right there, right before Stephanie’s eyes, she’d went to her knees and undone the guy’s pants and had him cuming in her mouth in less than three minutes. And she’d also heard the call she’d made to someone about a half hour after he’d left, talking about how she’d seduced him, how his cum felt in her mouth, how easy it was to give guys blow jobs . . . and how, no, she didn’t bother to tell him she was HIV positive, fuck him, that’s what he gets for thinkin’ with his dick—
There was Pam, she of the platinum blond hair and the slightly zaftig body, who talked about all the guys who were crazy about her, who went on and on about all the dudes who were into her body and who fucked her on a regular basis, who talked about getting more dick that some porn girl . . . Pam, who let this stripper into the store one night, this hot little Asian number wearing a total “fuck me” outfit, who was sporting a nice pair of fake tits, who started making out with Pam in the store before they graduated to petting and finger fucking and tit sucking before Pam breathlessly said, “Get one of the big strap-ons, I want you to bore out my cunt, sweetie”, and then headed into the back room where they were both screaming so loudly that Stephanie was certain someone passing by on the street would hear them.
There was Mary, their new boss. Though she only came into the story a few days out of the week, some of the conversations she had with Alicia were great. Stephanie couldn’t believe the utter disdain Mary held for her sister. When Mary said, “I know the stupid bitch smoked a blunt before coming over,” Stephanie heard the complete hostility in her voice. When Mary said, “I’ll cut her fuckin’ spinal cord myself if she wants to come back here,” Stephanie knew Alicia was likely going to become the new manager. And when Mary said, “Kim’s only done her best thinking with a cock inside her,” Stephanie realized that the chances of Kim coming back and seeing what had happened her were very, very, very slim.
Of course Mary did keep Stephanie entertained with her tales (that she sometimes told to Alicia) of stripping when she was 19, and doing some amateur porn at 20, and landing this rich guy when she was 22 and milking him into a heart attack when she was 27, and making just enough from his estate that she could open some stores and get some nips and tucks done, and basically live the life she wanted to live, now, at 31, and enjoy every minute of it. And she’d usually mention this all to Alicia right before she’d ask, “So, you ever had your pussy fisted?”
And speaking of Alicia . . ..

It had been raining most of the evening, so when Alicia began closing the store, there hadn’t been anyone in for at least an hour. Maybe an hour and a half. She locked the door and started pulling the shades. She closed out the register, then headed into the back room, locked up there, then stood and listened. There was only the sound of the rain and thunder outside, and the tick of pipes inside. A truck went by, but the sound of the traffic was muted. She was all alone: just her and the mannequins.
No one would bother them.
Stephanie hadn’t paid much attention to Alicia this evening. The night had been slow, which meant there hadn’t been many customers—and that meant no one to come and look at her. Stephanie really yearned for attention any more, and when the store was empty she felt empty. Fortunately for her Alicia had been spending most of the evening staring at her. Stephanie hadn’t ever noticed that coming from her before, but tonight it was as if Alicia was trying to bore holes into her with her big, luscious, light brown eyes. Stephanie wondered what the hell it was she was doing in the back room: it seemed like it had been hours since she’d gone back there.
There was a suddenly clicking of heels in the silence of the store. Stephanie took that to mean Alicia hadn’t left yet. Why she was walking so slowly, though, was . . ..
Then Alicia came into view, and Stephanie understood what was going on. Alicia had changed into something more—captivating, just as Stephanie had once done one night some time ago. But Stephanie had never seen her in anything like this before.
Alicia was wearing a very cute, very tight latex maid’s dress, all a brilliant white except for the contrasting black maid’s apron. A small, white maid’s cap adorned the curly Destiny’s Child-like wig that covered Alicia’s own hair. Her arms were nearly enwrapped to her shoulders with latex gloves that were the same stark white as the dress. The ensemble was completed with a white garter holding up shear black stockings, and laced knee-high platform boots that made her at least eight inches taller.
Alicia walked slowly toward Stephanie, pushing a hand cart holding a box. She bowed her head as she approached. “Good evening, Mistress,” she softly said. “I’ve a new outfit for you; I sincerely hope you enjoy this.” She stopped before Stephanie, stepped from around the cart, and, to Stephanie’s amazement, curtsied. Stephanie couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She’d worked with Alicia for almost five months before her little “accident”, and never once suspected she was like this—so docile, so submissive in her actions.
“I’ve brought you a red outfit that I’m certain will look incredible upon your body,” said Alicia. She then nodded as if she was listening to something. The girl’s having a conversation with me in her head, Stephanie realized. Wow! She is totally into this shit!
“What’s that, Mistress?” asked Alicia to Stephanie’s unmoving, silent form. “Yes, Ma’m, I am your slave tonight . . . Yes, Ma’m, I should be out sucking cock, but I want to serve you . . . No, Ma’m, I am your nigger to command . . ..”
I don’t fucking believe this shit! Stephanie was getting turned on by Alicia’s “Mistress and Slave” routine, and as the pleasure began to build inside Stephanie wanted so badly to be able to say—no, command Alicia to do something to her to make the pleasure become even greater and greater . . . Stephanie had always sorta liked Alicia, although she’d have never thought to think of her in this way. But seeing her like this, and loving how nicely her dark chocolate skin looked in this very white outfit . . . for the first time in a very long time Stephanie wished she was a real girl again, and not just a mannequin done up in a dominatrix outfit. She’d give Alicia a command or to—
“What’s that, Mistress?” asked Alicia, continuing her make believe conversation. “Yes, Mistress, right away.” She suddenly dropped from Stephanie’s line of sight, and she wondered just what the hell it was Alicia was up to . . . and then she felt two hands grip her gently around her left leg, and . . . what was that? It felt like— It was—
Holy fucking shit! Alicia is LICKING MY FUCKING BOOT!
Alicia was slowly working her way up Stephanie’s leg, and it was driving her utterly mad. Stephanie had never had anyone go completely submissive on her like this, and with Alicia’s actions combined with Stephanie’s immobility, the intense feeling of gratification was rushing through her much, much quicker than Stephanie had ever felt it before, and Alicia hadn’t even made it to her knee and the orgasm that was rocking Stephanie’s mind into next week was so incredible, so succulent, that Stephanie figured if she hadn’t been hard plastic she’d have probably stoked out right then and there and died with a moan and a smile on her lips.
Stephanie had no concept of how long it took Alicia to lick her way up the length of her thigh high boot, but she enjoyed it so much more completely than anything before when she’d been “real”. Alicia was not only slow, but she was complete. And even more so, she was loving. The girl dug being like this, wanted to be the sort of girl who had to please someone else in the most extreme ways. Stephanie suddenly found herself enjoying being The Mistress, being the center of Alicia’s attention. Christ, if this girl is going to be like this with me whenever she’d gonna change me, she thought, I’m gonna want to be changed a whole lot more in the future!
Alicia ran her tongue over the mannequin’s bare upper thigh and onto her hips. The corseted body suit she wore left enough of her hips exposed that Alicia could have fun pretending she was licking and kissing a woman’s skin. She looked up, whishing that she were making submissive love to a real mistress, but she’d settle for this fantasy, this incredible vision of someone she’d serve in a moment were it asked of her.
She looked upon the zipped crotch of The Mistress and smiled. “Oh, what’s that you say, Mistress?” she said. “You need your pussy licked? Of course, my goddess—“ She unzipped the crotch and pulled the latex covering apart. There was nothing but smooth plastic underneath, but it wasn’t difficult for Alicia to imagine a lovely, scented, so-completely wet vagina waiting for her . . ..
Stephanie felt the suit unzip. There was a moment where Alicia’s hand caressed Stephanie’s hard, plastic buttock, then there was nothing but bliss and Alicia’s tongue touched the smooth area that had been Stephanie’s crotch since she’d been placed here. It was all Stephanie could do to keep from moaning, and after the third orgasm inside of ninety seconds she stopped trying. Stephanie chanted, Yes, yes Alicia, yes slave over and over, hypnotizing herself into thinking that she was Alicia’s mistress, that the girl was her slave, that Alicia existed only for pleasing her. Stephanie didn’t notice—or care—that her mind was starting to slip; the only thing she cared for this very moment was pleasure, the pleasure that her lover Alicia was giving her, and if she were going insane, then Stephanie understood—in a last moment of lucidness—that there were worse ways than this to go crazy.
Alicia slowly worked her way up the corseted latex suit that covered the mannequin. She knew what people would think if they could see her, that what she was doing was so wrong, but she didn’t care—not as long as it gave her satisfaction. She so longed to be with someone like the proxy she was now loving, but it was unlikely she would ever find someone that would completely fit her fantasies. So for now Alicia was content to make do with what was available—
Finally making her way to The Mistress’ face, Alicia got up on her tip toes—even in the heels Alicia wore, the mannequin stood taller—and kissed her plastic lips. She did it again, and again, not just giving the unreal girl a little peck, but a kiss filled with love. She sighed deeply as she broke her embrace. “I wish you were real,” she said, brushing the bright red bangs of the wig out of mannequin’s face. “I wish you were—“
And then she stopped, because Alicia noticed something about the thing she’d been making love to for the last twenty minutes. The face . . . there was a resemblance there that she’d never noticed before, but then again, who ever notices a mannequin’s face, even up close? With the hair and the bangs, she looks different, thought Alicia. But if the hair was brown and had a different cut . . ..
She looked closer at the face. Then she realized who The Mistress looked like. “Stephanie?” she whispered. “Stephanie? Oh, my God! It can’t be . . ..”

Kim looked on while Alicia finished installing The Mistress upon the special stand that her sister had seen fit to put away after Kim’s accident. “Didn’t anyone think it strange that Stephanie went missing like that?” she asked.
Alicia—still dressed in her “special outfit”, put the wig on the mannequin that she was now certain was Stephanie. “We didn’t think . . . well, we didn’t know, okay?” She glanced over her shoulder. “It would have been nice if you’d have mentioned this thing to the rest of us, you know?”
Kim nodded. She knew Alicia was right; she should have mentioned the stand to some of the other girls, and not just to Stephanie. But, hell, that was a while ago, she thought, and who knew I’d be in this position . . . She knew it was her sister who should be dealing with this, but still—to get that late night call from Alicia, hearing her explain what she’d found, and realizing that maybe, just maybe that crazy girl Stephanie had gone and gotten herself somehow stuck on a pole in the store and that in a way it was her fault for not mentioning the stand to Mary—
Stepping back after putting the final touch in place, Alicia asked, “So, what now?”
“You just turn it off,” said Kim. “You did turn it on first, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Well . . ..”
“Right.” Stepping around to the back of the stand, Alicia knelt down, and pressed the button so that the stand turned off. There was a slight hum, then nothing for about ten seconds—and then both women saw the skin of the mannequin turn from a flesh tone plastic color into something . . . different. Something with a little more body and depth, something that looked like real skin. The body on stand shimmied just a bit, then the arms dropped to the side, the head tilted back, the eyes closed, and Stephanie—once more able to move—let loose with a long, wailing moan before slowly falling forward onto the floor. She caught herself with her hands, inched forward off the stand that was now sticking out of her asshole, and rolled onto her back. “FUCK!!!” she screamed, clutching herself in her hands.
Alicia rushed in. “Stephanie!” she gasped. She sat back on her heels and cradled Stephanie’s head in her lap. “How . . . how are you doing?”
Blinking twice, Stephanie looked up and said softly, “Oh, pretty good for someone who’s been a mannequin for a while.” She looked over to where Kim sat. “How ya doin’, Kim?”
Kim slowly rose from her chair, putting her weight on a cane. She limped over to where the girls lay. “Considering all the shit I’ve been through in the last nine months, not too bad.”
“Nine months?” gasped Stephanie. “It’s been that long?”
“Yeah,” said Alicia. “We filed a missing person report on—“
“Yeah, I know,” said Stephanie. “I was there—remember?” She sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes. “How’s the leg?” she asked Kim.
“Probably always gonna have a limp,” replied Kim. “Really fucked it up.”
“We’re you high when you wrecked?”
Kim snorted loudly. “Did you hear that fucking bitch say that?” she snidely asked.
“Yeah. One night she was in the store, talking—“
“That goddamn cunt,” hissed Kim. “She’s been saying all along that the accident somehow had to be my fucking fault!” She turned and raised her cane, looking for something to smash. “Some drunk asshole blew a red light and broadsided me,” she said, turning back to Alicia and Stephanie. “I wasn’t high; I didn’t blow the light; it wasn’t my fucking fault!” She winced as she moved over to a work bench, leaning against it to take pressure off her leg. “I wish she’d get off this shit!”
“Sounds like you two have a lot of history between you,” said Stephanie.
“Yeah. All of it bad.” Kim sighed as the pain subsided. “So, what was it like? Being frozen like that?”
Rubbing her legs, Stephanie said, “I don’t know that I can put it into words. For one, I didn’t know that it’s been nine months. It was like the passage of time didn’t really mean all that much, you know? I know about stuff going on in the shop, but as far as like feeling the hours slip by, that didn’t happen. It was as it I was only aware of things going on around me when things were going on around me.”
“External stimuli,” said Alicia. “You could only react to things around you.”
“Maybe. I was aware of people looking at me, touching me, talking around me—“ She looked Alicia in the eyes. “Doing other things to me.” Alicia blushed and looked away.
Kim noticed the exchange between Stephanie and Alicia, and decided she did not want to go there. The fact she’s wearing that outfit . . . “Anything else?”
Stephanie nodded. “It was just strange being so still, unable to breath or move or do anything. Just be there, nothing else.” Stephanie appeared somewhat wistful thinking about the incident. “I mean, you’d really have to be that way to understand. It was such an incredible experience—“
“Could you feel things happening to you?” asked Alicia.
“I could feel everything,” she replied.
Alicia seemed hesitant to ask, but she had to know. “Did you cum any?”
Stephanie leaned over and, putting her arm around Alicia’s shoulders, gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Like you wouldn’t believe,” she whispered in her ear. Releasing Alicia—and ignoring the look she was getting from Kim—Stephanie told the black girl, “Get these boots off me, okay?”
Alicia hung back for a second. “I don’t—“
Quickly turning on her, Stephanie barked, “Bitch, move your black bubble ass!”
Alicia’s uncertainly disappeared. She quickly began unlacing the boots as she clearly said, “Yes, Mistress Stephanie”.
Kim raised an eyebrow. “You wanna tell me—“
“It’s okay,” interjected Alicia. “I know what she wants.” Stephanie only smiled at Kim, who shrugged and said, “I’m cool with it if you are.” Alicia continued to unlace the ballet boots Stephanie had worn for the last night months, saying nothing.
The first boot was only off Stephanie’s foot for about five seconds when she noticed something wasn’t right. “Hey!” she exclaimed.
“What it is?” asked Kim.
“Look at my foot.” Stephanie’s left foot remained pointed, as if she were still wearing the ballet boots.
“Can you move it?” asked Alicia. Stephanie managed to wiggle the toes, but all her attempted to flatten her foot seemed futile.
Alicia took Stephanie’s foot in her hands and gently tried to flex it into a less severe position. The moment she tried Stephanie yelped in pain. “Fuck, don’t do that!” she cried. “That really hurt!”
“You can’t move your foot?” asked Kim.
“No, not a damn bit! Alicia, get the other boot off . . .” The right foot was reviled to be the same way, stuck in the same position it had been in while the boots were on.
“Oh, now, this is some shit!” cried Stephanie. She tossed her hands in the air out of frustration. “First I’m stuck as a mannequin for months, and now . . . now, I can’t wearing anything but fuckin’ ballet heels!”
“That’s not suppose to happen,” said Kim. “I mean, I’ve read about this—“
“So have I,” cried Stephanie. “I know there were women who were transformed for at least a month and never had anything like this happen.”
“Maybe it happened because you were changed for so long,” chimed in Alicia.
Stephanie shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. Just because I was changed, that doesn’t mean it should have affected my body after I turned—“
Alicia clapped her hands together. “That’s it!”
“What’s it?” asked Kim.
Standing, Alicia turned to Kim and said, pointing at Stephanie, “That’s not her body!”
Stephanie understood what Alicia was pointing out. “Yeah, no shit. Of course—“
“What do you mean?” asked Kim, who was still confused by all this.
“Mary took me apart and put me back together in the story,” started Stephanie.
“But she didn’t put your head on your body,” added Alicia. “She put it on The Mistress’ body.”
“And that mannequin had legs that were made to fit into ballet boots—“ She looked at Kim. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” replied Kim. “I had bought those legs special.”
“So,” said Alicia, continuing this train of thought, “when we transformed Stephanie back, we really didn’t transform the body that was hers—“
“You transformed the mannequin’s body,” said Kim, finishing the thought. “But . . . why should she be transformed back, then?”
“Because it’s my head that controlled everything,” Stephanie told them. “I couldn’t feel the rest of my body when I was disconnected from it, but once I was on The Mistress’ body, it felt . . ..”
“Just like yours?” asked Kim.
“Bingo.”
None of the women said anything for almost a minute. Finally Alicia shuddered and mumbled, “Wow! This is fuckin’ freaky.”
Kim nodded. “Yeah, think about it. You could be turned into a mannequin—“
“Then have your head put on another body—“
“And then changed back—“
“And end up with all the original features of the mannequin’s body,” said Stephanie. She reach for the boots she’d been wearing. “Which would also explain why I still have these big tits—“
“And that tiny waist,” cooed Alicia, obviously enthralled by Stephanie’s new appearance. She quickly knelt and began putting Stephanie back into the ballet boots. “God, you could have a ball with this, changing things—if you were into that sort of shit.”
Stephanie picked up on the tone in Alicia’s voice. “I’m sure one could . . . slave.”
Alicia blushed once more, then smiled. “I’m sure you’re right . . . Mistress.”
“You still my nigga?” asked Stephanie. Before Alicia could answer, Stephanie pulled her in and kissed her long and passionately.
“I sure am,” Alicia said once they broke from their embrace. “For now and always if you want me.”
“What I want for you now,” said Stephanie, “is to get your ass up on that stand.” She allowed Alicia to help her to her feet. “And lets see what sort of fun we can have, shall we?”

Mary was in a mood to kill. Here it was, two o’clock in the fuckin’ morning, and her dumb cunt of a sister is calling her up, telling her she has to get down to the store right away, ‘cause there’s something important she has to see.
Kim had to be high; that was the only explanation. Mary knew she should have cut her loser sister loose years ago, but couldn’t because her mother had made her promise to look after her somewhat older sister, the one who just couldn’t seem to catch a break. Well, fuck that. Mom was on the downhill slide, and once the old woman had checked out, that was the end of her obligations towards Kim. The bitch could hook to earn cash as far as Mary was concerned.
Of course she knew her mother didn’t think much of the way she’d gotten ahead over the years, but so what? Girl has to do what a girl has to do. So what if Kim had tried to make something honest of herself, as dear, old Mom liked to point out. Honest is for losers, and that’s just what Kim was. And if sis didn’t have a damn good explanation for dragging her ass out of bed at this ungodly hour, what with this rain storm still raging on, Mary was gonna fire Kim’s butt right then and there.
She parked her car and ran up to the back entrance as quickly as she could. At least the back door was unlocked: Mary would have been pissed if she’d had to unlock it herself. She stepped inside, slamming the door behind her. “Kim!” she yelled. The back room was lit by only one small bulb located in the corner of the room. What the fuck? Is she trying to create some kind of fucking mood here? “Kim!”
“Yeah, I’m here.”
Someone stepped into the back room from the store, but even though it sounded like Kim, there was no way in hell it could be her. For one, she wasn’t limping; the accident had fucked her up enough that even Kim had said she’d never walk normally again. Two, this chick was tall. Even without those tall heels she was wearing, the girl had to be standing over six feet tall, and Kim had been 5’ 3” since the middle of high school. And as the girl passed the light at the far end of the room, it was obvious she was black, and Kim sure as shit wasn’t black— “You lookin’ for me, Mary?” The girl was closer, and she sure as hell had Kim’s voice, but it was impossible for this girl to be her—
“Who are you?” asked Mary.
The girl stopped a couple of feet away. “Don’t you recognize your own sister, bitch?” the girl said, and in the flash of lightening that lit up the back room, Mary did recognize her own sister, only Kim has somehow grown tall and svelte and black, and how the fuck was any of that possible?
“But . . . but . . .” The words refused to form on Mary’s lips. “You’re—“
“Black?” Kim smiled. “Is that what you’re trying to say?” She turned and slapped her filled-out behind, which had been invisible to Mary. “You bet you’re skanky white ass I am.”
“That’s not possible.”
“Oh, it sure is.” Mary knew that to be Alicia’s voice, but when the girl stepped out from behind some boxes, Mary saw that she, too, had changed. She was far more buxom, and shorter, and dressed all in a bright white outfit—which seemed to match nicely with her now lightly tanned skin and platinum blond hair. Though her features remained the ones she was born with, she was defiantly now a white girl. “It’s amazin’ what you can do when you got the right tools!” she exclaimed, moving in close on Mary’s left.
Mary felt like she was gonna lose it. This wasn’t possible; people just couldn’t change like this. “This is all bullshit!” she yelled. She turned to leave the store—and there standing before her was this statuesque woman with flaming red hair and huge breasts and a cool latex outfit and . . . Oh, my God, Mary thought, it’s that mannequin from the store!
“Don’t run off, Mary,” the woman said. “Wouldn’t you like to tell us about how it feels getting your pussy fisted?”
White Alicia draped an arm over Mary’s shoulder. “Yeah, baby. Why don’t you tell us about it?”
Kim put her hands on her sister’s other shoulder. “I know I’d like to hear about it.”
Mary had no where to go. She was surrounded on three sides—on two by people who had somehow changed races, and on the third by a living mannequin. She began to giggle as her ability to rationalize what was going on started slipping away. “What do you want?”
“Just to let you know that . . . well, we want to have fun,” said the mannequin.
“That we don’t want you bothering us at the store any more,” said Alicia.
“That we don’t want you doing anything to us,” said Kim. “Or to me.”
“I wouldn’t do anything to you—Kim,” stuttered Mary. She giggled again. “Why would I?”
“We just wanted to make certain you’ll give us a free hand running this place,” said the mannequin girl.
Mary—who by now was terrified beyond all rational belief—nodded vigorously. “Of course! No problem! Any—anything you . . . girls want—“
Alicia leaned into Mary’s ear. “Because if you try to fuck with us—“
“You’ll find life being far, far different that what you know now,” murmured Kim in her sister’s other ear.
The mannequin woman tapped Mary lightly on the chest, and the girl began moving her back into the room. Mary was vaguely aware of her panties being ripped off as the mannequin said, “Just in case you don’t believe us, you might want to spend some time considering what might happened—“
Mary didn’t resist. She was convinced this was all a bad dream, and even as she felt something slide up into her vagina, followed by this strange vibration running through her body, she was certain she was going to wake up in her California king sized bed and everything was going to be okay—

Mary rolled over in her bed, suddenly wide awake. She rubbed her eyes and moaned: another goddamn bad dream. She lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling. They’ve been getting worse lately, she thought. I should see someone about them, but . . . would they even believe me when I tell them about these dreams?
She knew anyone who’d listen to her would think she was cracking up. After all, a lot of her dreams had to do . . . had to with the store. The store her sister ran . . ..
The store where Kim was now this really hot-lookin’ black girl with dark skin and some great, long hair and a body that said “do me” and a booty that wouldn’t quit, and who liked to dress oh, so sexy in short skirts and very, very high heels, and who would fuck anyone in the back room if she was in the mood . . ..
And then there was her friend and co-working Alicia, who’d somehow taken over Kim’s body, but it had much larger breasts and this totally bimboish blond hair and Alicia had taken to dressing completely in latex and chatin’ up just about everyone who came into the story, and who told Mary she did know what getting her pussy fisted was like . . ..
And then there was Stephanie, and Mary didn’t know what to make of her, because she was sure that she’d started out as this dim little girl who no one really paid much attention to, but now she was this dominatrix bitch who walked around corseted and in ballet boots all the time, and who had Alicia eating out of her hand, and who was best fucking friends with Kim, and pretty much was the boss of the store . . ..
Of course, Mary knew all this because . . . because for a week she’d been a mannequin there. Well, not really a mannequin, but she’d been turned into one, and then her head was pulled off and was put on a stand behind the counter, where Mary modeled wigs all day and night, and saw and heard everything that went on in the store, including watch her sister and Alicia and Stephanie all turn into mannequins every so often, showing off the store’s wares whenever they felt like taking time off from being human and instead spending it as exquisitely beautiful plastic women.
And because Mary had been a wig display for a week . . . or was it two? Or maybe three? Well, because she had been one she knew all about what went on at the store, but rather than try to convince anyone about the goings on there, Mary thought it better to just keep her mouth shut and try to deal with these dreams.
She finally rolled out of bed, figuring it was time to get up. Her eight inch block heels touched the floor, and Mary wondered once more when she’d be able to get them off. Of course, as she minced her way to the bathroom, she knew she thought the same thing about the extremely tight corset that covered her constricted waist and breasts, and the gloves that cover both arms. She told people who saw her these days (the ones who came to her house; Mary almost never went out any more) that she was totally into the fetish scene, and this was her way of living it . . . but that was a lie. That’s what she was told to say.
The truth was when Kim and Alicia and Stephanie put her back together, the put in onto a mannequin’s body that had these items glued onto it, and when that stand thing made her real again, why, it bonded the material right to her skin and it became her skin, and no mater how hard she tried there was no way to take any of this stuff off. Stephanie had told her that one day they’d ”fix” her, but that wouldn’t be for a while.
Not until they knew they could trust her.
Mary used the toilet, then showered—the outfits cleaned up nicely—and then stood before the mirror and looked at her face. She ran her gloved hand over her completely smooth skull, and if there was anything she missed, it was her long, black hair. Sure, the girls could have put her hair back on before they transformed her, but as they told her, “Once a wig model, always a wig model.” They at least kept her stocked in wigs, even if most of the shit they sent over looked like it belong either on a stripper or a girl from a cartoon.
Mary felt like pink, and it was a short, pink wig she placed upon her head. She turned and modeled it, thinking about how good she looked like this. Ever since being changed six months ago, Mary enjoyed modeling before the mirror. Seeing just how damn sexy she was.
Maybe that’s why I have the bad dreams, she thought. Because I try to convince myself that I’m not like my sister and Alicia and Stephanie, that I’m real, that I’m different than them. Yet, whenever Mary began one of her posing routines, hours would pass before she stopped and went on with the rest of her day in what had become her self-imposed exile away from people who simply wouldn’t understand her.
Maybe the girls would let me model down at the store, she though. She raised her chin with the palm of her right hand and blew a kiss at the mirror. I’m just as good as them. Just as pretty. A pretty girl. A very pretty plastic girl. Who just wants to be seen . . ..

The End

The Stanton Doll Comic..... WOW!!!

many thanks to juliensorel61 for sending me the complete 7 pannel comic. pretty well a fantasy of mine illustrated!!!

he explained:

"This comic seems to have been started by John Willie and finished by Eric Stanton - you can see the style change after the first four panels."

i've cleaned them up and posting just one due to their size. i've made a zip file which is about 2MB which i can forward from my yahoo account if anyone wants to see the rest of them. the file is now safely in my yahoo account so can email out anytime now.

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More doll suit test shots...

some more test shots were sent in by uk photographer blackice. they are of a higher resolution than the one i posted much earlier and shows different views.

he explained;

"I had this idea of doing these really slick and glossy shots of the doll in various places and scenes shot in an arty way on medium format. Unfortunately my original model bailed on me so I then had to ask around the various performance people in Brighton if there was anyone up for doing it.

The suit is all encompasing and the latex is definately not for everyone. The shots I'm attaching are just me making sure the suit fits the model - the latex wasn't even polished. We were just hacking around in her flat to see what poses she could do and how she was with it.

As you will have noticed its missing eyes and lips along with any other features. I was playing with the idea of photoshoping them on using actual Barbie doll heads features, but also to get a series of different eyes/lips made up that could be applied like the old Stanton comic. Still need a reliable and skilled model to wear it and shoot it. My current model I do alot of work with is a size or two smaller than the suit would you believe and very doll like in her own gothy way."

so, if your interested in wearing the suit and modeling for his project them contact him via his website. www.alchemicalshadows.com

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A work in progress, suggestions welcome

i found this ad in a magazine and did a fulll resolution scan of it. like other beauty treatments that involve expensive colour goo, i figured it would be perfect for a doll make over.

i took out the headline and the box text. a quick headline was added and a bit of tweaking of her arm and leg too, but please make some suggestions for another headline, box tex or other text i can replace.

i'll then re-do it and update this entry with the best selections on one advert.

actually the idea sort of came from this shockwave animation which takes popular brands and photoshops them into 'Yatta' to match up with a weird but very funny japanese song. actually the entire thing is very funny;

web.mit.edu/patil/www/media/video/yatta%20(economy).swf

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Barbie dolls at play....

not sure which one i'd most like to be, one or the other though ;-)

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