© Copyright 2006 - Asudemlatex - Used by permission
Storycodes: Other/f; transform; mannequin; cons; X
My new years resolution was to get more exercise and to that end I decided to start to walk to work, well at least part way to work as I still had a month metro card so I could jump on and off busses and subway if my feet got tired. And the types of shoes I loved certainly had their disadvantages and a long walk was on of them. I wasn’t committed yet to ruining my carefully honed ensemble either with the sneakers to work thing that so many women do in the city.
I was on the way to work one morning after having subway’d past the boring suburban parts too uptown shopping area. I ambled along glancing at windows, making mental notes of up coming fashions. I stopped in front of an old department store with one of the more creative window displays I’d ever seen. It was in part the contrast to the rather old and some would say dowdy store that the risqué display had, but more that the semi clothed mannequins had on the most amazing shoes. They were wedges - which are in at the moment - but the wedge was so minimal as to make them look like there was no heel at all. Added to the fact that the wedges were clear Perspex too completed the illusion of no heals at all.
I had to have a pair and strode purposefully in with the thought of no money would be an issue. I just needed them.
As suspected the place didn’t have a sales assistant under 55 and I swore I could see dust on some of the interior displays. I made my polite enquiry and it seems that the window designer brought them in from another store she worked for. Seems this was a new temporary designer as their own had just retired. Well that explained the stark contrast between the downtown styled display and the uptown store. She couldn’t help me with where they came from but suggested I come back later to see if the designer was in.
The day went painfully slowly, dull meetings didn’t help. I spent my lunch hour using the net to try to find the shoes but to no avail. Nothing. Not even my favorite haunt ebay had anything remotely close.
Finally I was out the door at 6 and prayed the store was still open when I got there. It being a Thursday there was a good chance it still was.
I arrived and the sales assistant I had spoken too earlier said she had relayed my request about the shoes and was told to bring me down to the basement to the designer’s office. If the public side of the department store was showing its age, behind the scenes were positively decrepit. Long corridors of heating pipes and whatnot. Discarded displays here and there and positively antique stockpiled high in places.
We finally made it to a small office and I was left to wait for the designer who was nearby somewhere. I looked around and didn’t see the shoes I was after and sat down. 10 minutes later she appeared, looking as out of place here as her window display was. Way too young and I can see why the fission with the existing staff. Very cute though and she came baring a box of shoes.
She explained that she was freelance and worked all around the city, but never really in one place for very long as she like the freedom of being freelance. She’d gotten a reputation for some daring and kinky displays so were favored by some really serious dressers as she tactfully put it. The shoes she said had come from their specialty shop she did a lot of work for and also sometimes moonlighted as sales staffs when well paying design jobs were thin.
She produced the box of shoes and my eyes lit up like it was Christmas day. I unwrapped the tissues and pulled out the shoes. Wow. they were amazing. I started to try them on and they fit just a bit too tightly but I managed to stand in them none the less. My legs looked much longer and the angle caused my bottom to stick out in a provocative sexy way. I walked around the room, pausing in model stances for effect, finally totally stopping to see myself in the huge wall mirror. The window designer’s watched me intently, I could almost see the gears moving in her head.
The shoes were simply amazing and I would have to have them but they were one size too small. I could wear them but only for short periods of time and not really be able to enjoy them to the fullest. I wanted to parade them around work and on nights out. I asked where they came from and she said another store, but she had brought down several boxes of different sizes to try on the old mannequins they had here whose sizes varied. She motioned me to follow her and without thinking I was led down more corridors into a cavernous mannequin storage room. There must be a hundred of them easily. Some even look like life sized versions of the 50’s Barbie dolls as if they had been scaled up to human height. She commented that the store was over 70 years old and never threw anything out and that some of the mannequins were decades old, rare and very valuable.
She made a dramatic wave with her hand towards them and disappeared in search of the shoes in my exact size.
I had never been this close to a mannequin before, they had always been behind glass or up on a base. Here they had all these timeless beautiful female forms, mainly undressed scattered around this huge dimly lit storeroom. As I walked amongst them I did start to notice that some of them were dressed in flowing satin ball gowns from a by gone era. I cheekily got closer a rather stylish and attractive one and started to casually run my hands over her finely crafted curves. Its skin was made of a very smooth hard plastic and it had an impossibly shaped wasp waist of 16 inches. I cupped its breasts teasingly, caressed them with envy and planted and firm long kiss on her lips.
I so wished I had her body, her beauty, her perfection.
The dim lights flared for a second, which broke my concentration on kiss. I stood back and looked around to see if the designer had come back and turned on an extra set of lights. Nothing.
I stepped back and bumped into the mannequin I had kissed. Her cool smooth plastic arms encircled my waist. Startled I tried to jump and found myself frozen and silent. I couldn’t utter a word. Impossible as it seems I was held firmly by a naked antique mannequin.
In front of me other mannequins slowly came alive, walking with a slow deliberation on plastic feet towards me. I was released from behind but still silent and totally mute. I tried with all my will to move to make even the smallest of sounds and nothing. They surrounded me and stripped me ever so carefully of all my clothes including the new shoes I had sought out. They were gentle but firm, they’re hands all over me as if I was the object to be dressed and undressed - like a doll.
Even if I could move I doubt I’d ever be able too break free.
Then I started to feel it, where they touched me, no - they were caressing me - as they were taking off my work clothes I could feel my skin numbing, changing, as if they’re closeness to me was imbuing me with their own unique essence, the spirit of the life sized dolls; my flesh becoming one with their plastic.
They were making me over as one of them, plastic hands all over me, in me, exploring my entire body and with each touch of their plastic skin, my skin takes on they’re plastic luster. The plastic penetrates me deeper and deeper and I can feel an electric charge as the conversion progresses. If I wasn’t so thoroughly and utterly aroused I would be terrified.
They retreat, I must be complete. I am naked and coated in plastic like them. Frozen in bliss. One approaches from the distance with a large violet silk ball gown. Two of them come to her aid and help put it over my body. The can move my arms and legs it seems but I can’t do anything but stare out for frozen eyes. The feeling of the silk on my naked plastic body drives me to a barrage of mental orgasms, which reverberate around my very soul.
My mind slowly regains a semblance of clear thought and I see the designer standing in the doorway with a sly smile on her face.
* * * *
I walk in and see you there, frozen amongst the mannequins posed so lovely in the expensive antique silk ball gown. I can sense your thoughts. You kinky girl, you are really enjoying this as you have enjoyed other ‘games’ in the past....
I wave my hand again and the mannequins return to life and surround you, lifting you up and carrying you deep into the storeroom past rows and rows of still mannequins. I dash ahead and open a door hidden behind some large dusty boxes. Inside is small room a large plastic tube that reaches to the ceiling. The front part swings open and the mannequins place you carefully inside.
I take time to make sure you look perfect in the plastic tube, straightening the dress here and there, caressing each body part, knowing that as I touch you your plastic shell is being rocked with sensual excitement the likes of which you’ve never felt before.
I close and seal the large clear tube. Even if you were able to move you’d never be able to get out. Frozen there in the pretty silk you look like a life-sized doll in collectors condition in its original packaging. I know you can feel and know you can hear and see me, but not respond in even the slightest way. But I can sense your feelings and that is all the proof I needed - whether you were conscious of it or not you’ve willing embraced each stage of the traps I had set. You might of left here with a pair of amazing shoes, but no, not for you....
As I leave I press a button on the wall that starts to release a warm and viscous honey like liquid into the tube. I know all too well that as it coats you it will drive you into a frenzy of lust, and that you’ll be locked in a never-ending orgasm—one so tremendous that you won’t notice me bolting the door and shutting off the lights.
You spend a very long time in darkness, locked in your prison of pleasure soaking up the warm jelly like potion. The liquid feeding you and converting you. Preparing for you for your unique new life.
Finally, after six months I return to pull you out and undress you. Naked you very much resemble the other mannequins. But there is one last stage before I can use you.
I summon the mannequins and they again swarm around you like bees, but this time there is no flesh in your body to transmute, simply to mold and shape. They pull and stretch, kneed and kneed. Your legs are stretched and thinned, feet crushed and arched to accommodate 5 ½ inch heels, waist impossibly compressed to 16 inches and breasts reformed much larger than yours ever were.
The one which you so foolishly kissed tends to the last stage of the shaping, she expertly massages your face with a firm but feather like touch and with each moment that passes you look more and more like her sculpted plastic visage. Finally she kisses you deeply on the lips... and pulls back. There is just a hint of your former identity visible in a mannequin that resembles so many of the others in the room. So freshly pulled from the tube there is a window of an hour or so when your body is as pliable as warm plastic, and the mannequins have reshaped you as they’re sister.
to be continued.....
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