The Stand In

"Tell them it broke" I offered.

"These kinds of people are short on understanding, and their head marketing guy is positively infatuated with you, as you may well remember from when you two first met. They expect to see this display window demo fully operational as a proof of concept test so that I can collect their obscenely large check, and then I can afford to pay both of us what we deserve and still have enough left to fix this latest bug before their major market stores all get one of their own. Your the stunning model for this prototype, they expect to see your stunning interactive form prancing about in their clothes in stunning fashion in that display window in less than two hours one way or the other."

"'Stunning?' As in unable to perform as expected at a critical time, where have I experienced that before?" I asked rhetorically with venom in my voice, Sam and I being lovers one single disappointing time after far too many celebratory drinks, but I realized belatedly that my sarcasm could also apply equally to his finicky creation...

"I've grown to really hate animatronics, and even technology in general since we started all this, you know that don't you Sam?" I offered in resignation a moment later while backpedaling on my earlier sarcasm. Sam knew I would do it, I had no real choice as he well knew. My contract was written in such a way that I didn't get fully paid until he did, I about as close to a human slave now as the law would allow with his careful manipulation of these recent inexplicable mishaps. At one time the device, (my fully animated doppelganger), could likely fool someone just a few feet away until the batteries ran out, and back then it worked perfectly, almost frighteningly so.

"I think from a grammatical point of view that would more accurately be 'stunned' and not 'stunning' sweetheart" Sam clarified, "as with a Taser when the cops try to put the cuffs on you and you resist. You didn't mind posing for all those molds so we could exactly duplicate that famous body and face of yours, did you? Nor did you mind spending the advance I gave you to pose in your magnificent skin for the technicians to do their magic. You know this business better than I do" Sam cajoled needlessly, "without your ageless animated mannequin modeling in their store windows and paying you a royalty you would eventually be broke, most especially right after the next stunning teen with a better attitude gets discovered."

"You know you have a reputation of being just a little tough to work with, don't you?" Sam digressed with a laugh. It was a well know "secret" in the business, I could be positively toxic on a photo-shoot, especially if things didn't go my way.

"Your as sweet and sensitive as always Sam" I opined without humor while turning up my charm, I knowing he was right with all of it. I had burned my bridges on the way up, and there could be no going back for me when my career declined as I now realized they all do eventually. I remember clearly some of the cruel things I had said to the models of the day that I had replaced when they aged out of the business, and I wanted to be safely out and away from this terrible business before that could happen to myself.

"I've already decided I'll do it Sam." I had made no secret of my intentions to Sam after all this, retire to my place in the mountains while still on top of my game and attempt to disappear, Sam's money in part helping me to achieve that goal. The royalties would pay my bills, but there would be little of those after I checked out from society and this jet set insanity. In a rare moment of truthful introspection I realized I was really nothing more than a pampered show pony with high cheek bones and a long and lean body type, but that look was in style these days.

"It's just two hours Sam, or is there something else you haven't told me yet?"

"They want to see the set up and take down as well, so figure three hours give or take, box to box" Sam lied to me for perhaps the final time...

"Your going to get off on all this aren't you Sam?" I asked. "Most especially my being strapped down and helpless in that transport box."

"Maybe even more than you are sweetheart" Sam offered with an ominous smile. Sam didn't like me very much, and the feeling was mutual, but we needed each other for just a little longer so we could both get what we wanted out of this.

********************

The device I was to emulate looked frighteningly identical to me, but it had been molded from my own body with a very intrusive casting process so that it's patented process synthetic skin would look and behave exactly like my own. The technician geeks performing that magic had been professional enough, but necessarily had to be more "hands on" than I had allowed almost any lover, all while I was strung up in helplessly rigid poses like a naked peasant in a medieval torture chamber, allegedly to prevent my moving about and spoiling their castings while they set up.

The castings once firmly set and perfect were then cut off of me and used as the molds that my thin artificial skin would be poured into, a process that would allow for many duplications before the molds were worn out, and detailed enough to duplicate even my fingerprints. My eyes, teeth and hair were being fabricated off site, the eyes tiny high resolution cameras that allowed the complex device to "see" where it was and who it was interacting with. Inside my ears were tiny high gain microphones, and my voice and mouth worked in conjunction with each other to make any sales pitch conversation my doppelganger might feel inclined to engage in seem realistic, those sounds being produced by exhaled air from faux lunges complete with the potential for a heaving chest with a series of deep breaths.

...I had pissed the technicians off at some point early on with my toxic tongue, their "necessary restraint system" possibly not as necessary as they had claimed, but not exactly a true hardship for one like myself either despite my faux objections. I was contractually obligated, and that was my excuse for tolerating such measures, but I had for years deep down yearned for a man, (or even a woman) who wouldn't take what I had gotten away with dishing out my entire career, he or she putting me firmly in my proverbial place for once in my pampered life. Such a dominate soul could take whatever he wanted from me, but those kinds of people were few and far between, and usually melted into useless babbling fools with the first flash of my million dollar smile...

The skeletal and muscular structure under that fantastic skin had to be just as perfect, and here countless scans were made in three dimensions to ensure my doppelganger had my exact measurements, shoe size, eyes, and even hair as I was stretched out and posed in various positions wearing just my taunt skin. That I'm sure had those same professionals off somewhere behind their monitors taking turns pleasuring themselves while I was strung up on display, but to be fair there was a certain eroticism to the whole event that I attempted to personally discount.

Getting my breasts perfect was an ordeal, both Sam and the technicians handling and fondling them endlessly in the flesh to perfect their shape, texture, and motion. My own were natural despite the rumors to the contrary in the trade papers, and impossibly responsive to the technician's manipulations, and these days unfortunately the early stages of gravity as well despite my hours in the gym.

There was something hard to explain, but still provocative in a passive kind of way in allowing a nerdy technical genius to handle my body's most intimate parts while I stood still and mute with my arms pinned behind my back to allow unfettered access. I managed to stifle the groan I wanted to make, but my buds still became erect every time, (my other female parts just as responsive), those nerds closer than they ever knew to getting lucky with the sheer kink of the event had they the courage to assert their control over me just a little bit more.

That little bit of science brought about a silicone breast implant with multiple chambers of varying viscosity fluid to properly emulate my own natural endowments, and in handling the finished product on my naked doppelganger right after my own natural assets it was hard to tell the difference other that the mannequin's were cold and her buds didn't react exactly like mine did. It felt a little like girl on girl foreplay to me, something that the trade papers and tabloids had speculated about in my case, but as yet couldn't prove. Such speculation made for titillating tabloid covers at the grocery store checkout, but the truth of the matter was that I lead a nearly celibate lifestyle these days, I entertaining myself far more often that any flesh and blood lover.

Getting my butt and legs perfect seemed simple in comparison, but still required more hands on from both Sam and the technicians, I at some point wondering where all this was really going, most especially when I had noticed that my doppelganger's female hardware was apparently just as realistic. Such would look impossibly "real" while she was modeling a sheer bikini with the strings tied overly tight, as would her fluid breasts and erect buds as they moved about naturally in the display window, but at the same time just this side of acceptable in certain locals.

After days of wearing a sensor covered body suit to teach the device how exactly I moved I finally thought this ordeal would be over, my doppelganger emulating my body's motions like some kind of macabre puppet while she at the same time learned how I spoke. Early on Sam thought to run her on an umbilical cord at the base of her foot, it supplying both signal and power to the hundreds of little linear drives and fluid muscles, but our customers apparently wanted something "more real" than an ankle tethered interactive and conversational model, they willing to accept that there would be down time with such a device while charging it back up. The detail and exposed skin necessary to model everything from slinky dresses to string bikinis made it impossible to have a quickly changeable battery pack, again the customers willing to accept that as well for the sake of realism.

*********************

Box to box meant just that, the head marketing guy wanted to see "me" unstrapped and removed from the padded transport crate, dressed and placed in the window, and realistically moving about while wearing whatever they wanted to sell until the end of the demonstration, then it/me being boxed up once again for transport. I obviously knew I could fit in the special transport box because my doppelganger could, but it reminded me just a little too much of a padded coffin, and I wasn't exactly excited to be caught trying it on for an audience in my skin despite the obvious kink for one with my particular hidden persuasions.

They wouldn't know it was me though, (nor would they ever expect one like myself to willingly submit to being boxed up and displayed in such an inhuman manor), and that was my excuse to embrace this little indulgence, the other mechanical me obviously having to keep well out of sight if this charade was to work. The box had air holes so that I could breathe inside it ("just in case" Sam had offered once ominously after his creation failed the first time), in addition the expensive and fragile device normally designed to travel about inside of it had to be securely strapped down so it wouldn't get broken, which it apparently still did far too often.

This being restrained and boxed up touched off on several secret and overlapping fantasies of mine at once, something Sam I think may have realized at some point. It was at best a difficult subject to broach with another under the best of circumstances, I seeming desirable yet unapproachable to most of the men I had encountered with my toxic tongue, ironically enough severely cramping what could have otherwise been a wonderful and kinky sex life with the right partner. In my post modeling career I intended to fix that little flaw of being unapproachable for such things, but well out of the public eye so as not to damage my wholesome brand identification, and my continuing income from royalties.

Had my intimate frustrations lead me to this project in the first place, as well as being a contributing factor toward my general toxic attitude? Possibly, I had to answer if I were to be honest with myself.

************************

Freshly showered and self pampered once back in my hotel room I took a short freight elevator ride down to the hotel's back entrance, it dumping me into the truck part of parking garage and the waiting box truck. I wore just a short robe and slippers, the technicians responsible for helping me pull off this little bait and switch all smiles as they waited for me in the dark corner parking spot. They had both seen and handled me in my million dollar skin several times during this project, but not with such total potential public exposure should someone happen by, this potentially their own little payback for the attitude I had at time given them during this project.

The open hard plastic travel case laid waiting for me on it's back inside a box truck designed to transport things and not humans like myself, but for the next few hours I had to remind myself that I was little more than an expensive animated mannequin to be put on display in a store window. Such thoughts were hugely exciting to me personally, but despite that I had refrained from taking matters into my own hands in the shower to take the edge off of this implied sexual tension. Such self indulgences often ruined my courage, and I knew I would need all of it and then some to pull off this charade so as to be able to cash my check and leave all this behind for good in seclusion.

I stepped up into the truck with the help of one of the men and dropped my robe to the dirty floor without ceremony, and then stepped into the box when invited by the head technician before someone wandering by could see what was going on. He held my hands and helped me to lie down into the depth of the black foam cutouts on my back, (his eyes roaming as any mans would), the foam cut in the precise form of my silhouette. The foam of the travel case was impossibly comfortable and fit my every contour as if specifically made for my naked body, but then again it was. The position was classic gingerbread woman, and exciting as hell to my oversexed and kinky mind, which I attempted to hide from the men in attendance just one more time. The straps were all open waiting for me, every appendage secured in at least two places by industrial Velcro straps, ( my slippers slowly removed once I was helplessly bound, that mans fingers sliding up my arches intentionally and making me squirm).

The technicians didn't make the straps very tight at all, but I wasn't going anywhere with them on me either. I asked about the tightness of my bonds as if trying to make conversation as casually as possible so as not to give away what I thought I was missing out on, the head technician explaining that they didn't want to form any ligature marks on my human skin before the demo. That made perfect sense, but also held the delicious threat of a more firm restraint after the show when they boxed me up properly for transport to show the customer how it was done.

Once fully strapped into the special crate one of the men lifted the foot end while staring directly and unabashedly at my chest, my new head down angle causing my restraints to pull tight to the extent that the soft foam lining would allow me to move, that in turn causing my breasts to settle high on my chest as nature never intended for one with larger natural assets. Both actions reminded me of my helplessness, and dependence on these men, the same ones that I had been less than kind to on this job.Then the lid of the case was placed on and latched closed in a dozen places, making the straps binding my helpless body nearly superfluous other than to prevent the human me from having any earlier second thoughts. The top of the crate had a complimentary foam silhouette to hold my body even more firmly should the transport case be accidentally inverted, and my body with the exception of my face was sandwiched snugly between both as my world went dark. I didn't get easily claustrophobic, and all things considered that was a good thing.

I knew the purpose of the conformal foam lining was to keep my expensive doppelganger from banging around inside the transport case and getting damaged if handled roughly, but the finality of being strapped down naked in a case for delivery and then having it latched closed one noisy "snap" at a time from the outside nearly overwhelmed me. The men could literally do anything they liked with me and my case, but they were professionals and had a job to do, or in this particular case a charade to pull off so they could get paid as well. The conformal pressure from the foam on both sides of my body felt exquisite, the shape matching my body perfectly, to include holding my breasts like no bra possibly could once my case and I were stood on end and they settled properly into the cutout spaces provided for them.

It was warm in there, peacefully quiet, and impossibly dark, I curious to feel nothing happening for what felt like an eternity as I floated inside my foam bed. Eventually I felt the truck's engine rumble to life, and then the sensation of movement inside my travel box. The truck bumped over what must have been several speed bumps on it's short ride from the parking garage to the mall and it's shop display windows, the motions of the truck causing my sensitive parts to brush about deliciously inside my foam prison.

It was to be the best of both worlds for me if I could make a convincing act for our customers, I could play at this indulgence for an audience and get the near full effect from my hidden kink, and retain some measure of public modesty at the same time as "I" was technically never there.

After some more bumping about my case was stood upright and the lid unsnapped, the rush of bright light in the makeup area felt through my closed eyelids. Once unstrapped I was asked to step from my now upright transport box, I opening my eyes and seeing the head marketing guy along with Sam and several others looking appreciatively at my naked form.

"Good morning mister B" I said soft and sexily, I remembering the mans infatuation, knowing his was the driving force in making his company commit to this crazy expensive project. "I hope to impress you with my performance today sir" I added respectfully. This man held the keys to my future, and I wanted him to be properly dazzled with our creation one way or the other.

"Simply magnificent" the man commented to no one in particular, he rather overcome with my naked form, I never before doing any nudes before this project. There were no hidden nude pictures of me on the internet that were real because I had never done any despite some pressure early on to do so, I even back then being concerned with my brand identification. I had worn things that left little to the imagination, backlit sundresses and heels on the beach at sunset, rain soaked shirts with just my skin underneath, but that was just the business, tantalize without giving it all up so people continue to pay attention.

"Can I touch it?" Mr. B asked Sam and not myself, I was after all nothing more than Sam's device, his property until the sale was finalized for the purposes of this little charade.

Can I touch the animated mannequin that I have spent tens of millions of dollars of my companies money on so far? A completely reasonable request for the man to make, even with others watching. Can I put my hands all over this internationally known model as she poses before me in her skin and not expect her to react in some way, either by slapping me in the face, blushing, or groaning if a certain tender spot were touched? That was the real question, and I not able to speak in my own defense, the premise of my willingness for such things irrelevant if I were Sam's animated creation.

"I would say that after your blown away with our demo and you sign the check you can do anything you like with her, she will be your property then, but for now I would have to decline" Sam told the man. The customer might always be right, but he doesn't have to always get his way either. I was surprised by this as I expected Sam to have his little fun in allowing the mans limited indulgence, but it was a pleasant surprise.

"Very well then, I would like to see her dressed in a number fourteen with all the standard accessories, and the tallest pair of heels we have on the shelf" Mr. B told the crew. He didn't seem like a man that had just been told no gently by Sam, quite the opposite in fact, he seemed almost over the top happy with himself. I had no idea what a number fourteen was in his store, but his people got busy grabbing what I was to be dressed in for my first ever display window, my sizes already well known.

This next part was almost like any other photo shoot, except for the location. Clothes would be put on, hair, makeup, and nails done, then prance around and look sexy for the camera, or in this case the store's customers with several important people watching. I had to remember to allow the helpers to dress me themselves so as to conserve my batteries, but this wasn't all that unusual during a busy shoot with several changes behind a screen before some natural light feature faded from sight over the horizon.

I soon found out that a number fourteen was a classic French maid's outfit, fishnets, bonnet, feather duster, and matching lacy underthings with garters. It was a cliché to be sure, but could have easily been the skimpiest string bikini they had instead. The store was mobbed, standing room only, and they predictably sold out of number fourteens in record time, I doing my best to ham it up and pretend to dust my display window and even tell the customers what I wore through the glass. It was great fun, Mr. B even coming in behind the glass with me toward the end of my demo, I dusting him off as the customers laughed at my antics.

My two hour show was over before I knew it, I having fun for the first time in years modeling once again. I was then to be put back in the box for transport to show the customers how it was properly done, all before my batteries went dead if we were to keep with the plan. The technicians had all apparently been dismissed, along with the makeup and other people who had dressed and pampered me, but they were likely off somewhere celebrating as I stood alone on the converted loading dock waiting for what was to come next. The charade had been an obvious success, the store busy beyond anyone's wildest expectations, the only thing left to do was put me away in the travel box.

Sam and Mr. B came in together and were apparently to undress me alone for transport, this not what I had expected at all, but I stood still and allowed it as if I were in energy conserving mode with my batteries running low, only moving as necessary when directed. Stripped and boxed up for transport was still a thrill, and once the men had me down to just my skin I was helped by Mr. B to lay back down into my travel case as Sam directed the action. Both men made no attempt to be subtle in brushing and handling my assets, Mr. B apparently signing the check and happy with his purchase.

This time Sam and Mr. B pulled my Velcro straps snug, both men smiling down at me in my box, I aware for the first time that I had missed something profound along the way. I then heard the click of a pair of familiar stilettoes approaching, I down below the rim of my travel box and unable to see who was approaching, I assuming it was one of the makeup girls to see what I looked like all boxed up. Both men looked in the direction of the approaching heels, and then back to me, their smiling faces joined by a third smiling face as realization sunk in.

"High beautiful, great show by the way. I watched the whole thing, but I kept out of your sight so as not to steal your spotlight this one time." I was looking up at myself, stunningly turned out and performing flawlessly, she apparently not broken at all. She wore a business dress and looked the epitome of a successful businesswoman, I in comparison looking like the naked toy in a shipping box.

"Here's the way of it beautiful, I'm going with Sam to... well to indulge in every immoral thought he has, and then the twisted and sick thoughts of any friends he wants to share me with after that. Don't worry your pretty little head about all that though, I will be doing this discreetly at my mountain retreat so as not to spoil our brand. Mr. B here has purchased you, and several more of me in a package deal to rotate through his more popular stores and sell his clothes. If you behave he may treat you well enough, but I know you better than anybody else, and we both know that you don't want to be treated especially well. Don't we beautiful?"

I couldn't form an answer in my mind I was so stunned, my trap was of my own making, and my doppelganger was after all right. I deep down wanted this, but I had to offer some form of resistance and I thought to stall so I could think of some clever thing to say short of screaming for help.

"How did you know it was me and not her Mr. B?" I asked. It was the best I could do under the circumstances.

"I smelled your arousal, and when Sam told me I couldn't touch you before I signed the check I knew he had kept his end of the bargain. In two hours you will be in your new home, and you will behave or else, is that clear?"

"Yes sir, perfectly" I opening my mouth willingly to accept the bit gag that my traitorous doppelganger held in her hands should I change my mind during shipping and wish to call out. The lid was then snapped in place and I shortly thereafter placed in the hold of a plane to be delivered to my new life...

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10.07.16