Vacuum Packed Dolly

by SFT

Email Feedback | Forum Feedback

© Copyright 2011 - SFT - Used by permission

Storycodes: M/f; F/m; bagged; vacuum; boxed; dollsuit; mask; display; stand; costume; maid; latex; tease; mast; cons; X

This story is covered by the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License ( )


I don't know how I get roped into these things.

Spring cleaning, she called it. But there wasn't that much cleaning involved. Instead, I was tasked with packing up her winter clothing, vacuum packing them into plastic bags, putting those plastic bags into plastic bins, and then transporting those plastic bins into her side room.

Meanwhile, she had the opposite job. She was retrieving a different set of bins from that same side room, unpacking clothes from plastic bags, and placing those clothes into her wardrobe and closets.

Luckily, she had already moved her winter clothing to a third room, so we didn't really get in each others' way. Just passing by while we did our duties, really.

I really did not understand how one woman could wear all these various blouses, skirts, and other things in the course of three months. When I had finished, I had gone through seven complete bins, each four and a half foot square, each with compressed clothing in them.

Towards the end, I noticed that she had stopped retrieving bins a while back, though that made sense. Her lighter summer wear compressed much better than the heavy winter wear, after all, so she would finish earlier.

Walking back to her room though, I spotted one last bin sitting on her bed, obviously still full of things needing to be unpacked.

Upon the bin was a note.


"Sorry," it read, "but I had to nip off for an errand. Do you mind installing this last one for me? The contents all go in the closet, on the left. Thanks."

I sighed. Typical. She probably ditched me to have lunch with one of her girlfriends or something.

Still, it was something to do, so I opened up the bin, and looked over the top layer of plastic bags with clothes in them. Upon further inspection, though, these were really not ordinary clothes. There was a maid outfit, a nurse outfit, a schoolgirl outfit, and even a rubber fetish suit. All fairly fetishy clothes, not something you'd typically wear outside.

Before grabbing them though, I decided to check out the closet. I walked up to it, opened the door, and walked in, as it was a walk-in closet. On the left side, there was a clear bit of space on the clothes hanger rack at the end, which could easily take those fetishy outfits she had, along with a fair number of plastic hangers.

Beside the hanger though, there was a curious round plate, from which extended a metal pole. The pole had a number of holes on the side, probably so whatever was mounted on it could be adjusted to different heights.

I thought about it a bit, and thought perhaps it was for a sewing dummy. She did sew quite a bit, and perhaps she liked keeping it here out of sight. Though that didn't explain where the dummy itself was.

It didn't seem important though, so I pushed the thought aside, retrieved a couple of the plastic clothes hangers, and returned to the bin, removing the maid outfit on top.

It was then that I noticed there was something at the bottom of the bin. Something that was clearly not clothing.


I carefully removed all of the compressed clothing from on top, and studied what was below.

It was also vacuum packed, in a transparent plastic bag much bigger than the others, but it wasn't made of cloth. At least, not all of it was. Its arms, legs, and body were certainly covered in cloth, but its head was clearly plastic.

It was some sort of mannequin, clearly female, and styled with anime features. I remember seeing images of these in Japanese clothing stores, but I never imagined finding one here. It was lying on its back, its knees bent to the side to fit inside the bag and bin, and its arms folded to the side likewise. Its eyes were large and blue, always staring forward. It had a bit of a smirk, the kind of expression you'd have if you were hiding something. Its hair was long and dark, and had been clearly messed around by the vacuum process, though it managed to mostly tuck its way behind the back. Its breasts poked up unnaturally in the bag, smooth and without features. Its crotch was also completely featureless, simply existing as a curve between front and back.

On the side was a plastic clamp, about two fists' size, with a small metal connector on the end, most likely fitting the pole in the closet.

Was this her dummy? I thought she would've had a traditional sewing dummy, the type without a head or arms or legs. Instead, she had this... thing.

Though the thought occurred, why would you want to vacuum pack a dummy, anyway? It's not like it would compress any better. Though perhaps she simply wanted to keep it free from dust.

I returned to the note, reading it again, but it still kept the exact wording it had before. Though I noted it used the word "installing".

I guess she wanted me to install this thing.


So I put my hands under it, and lifted it out of the bin.

It was heavy, though. Weighed pretty much the same as you'd expect a real girl of this height to weigh. I managed to place it down on the bed, facing upwards.

The now empty bin was an extra bit of clutter, though, so I closed it up, walked it over to the side room, dropped it off, and returned to the anime dummy.

I unzipped the bag, and slipped it out, noting that the arms and legs seemed to shift somewhat as it came. I unfolded it into a lying down position onto the bed. It was surprisingly warm for something that had been in a bin for at least three months. I suppose it could've gotten that heat from anywhere, though, and proceeded to clean up by picking up the vacuum bag.

Hmm, I thought. This bag had a hole in it, about the size of a thumbprint, right in the front. I wondered for a moment. The dummy was packed airtight, but how could it have remained so with such a large hole in it? Well, I continued to think, perhaps the hole was flush to the plastic head, and the gap between the two was too small for air to enter.

Still, the bag could probably be patched. There was a roll of strong transparent tape in the room, so I used that to patch the hole on both sides. I then folded up the bag and slipped it into the side room as well.

Upon returning, I examined the dummy, and marvelled at its range of motion. It seemed to have some sort of internal skeleton inside, as it bent as if it had human joints in all the right places.

After a moment of that, I decided to install it. I took the plastic clamp, and clicked it around its right thigh. I then picked it up, walked inside the closet once more, and stood it next to the pole. Next, I screwed the clamp into the pole, ensuring it wouldn't fall over.

I stood a few paces away from it, and stared at it for a bit.

It didn't look right naked.


So I went back to the bedroom, and unpacked the maid outfit.

It was the one I noticed first, so I figured it was a sign.

I returned to the closet with it in my arms, and the dummy still staring forward. As if that would've changed, I thought.

Dressing the dummy was a bit of a problem, though. The dummy itself didn't look like it had any removable parts. Still, the clamp was in the way, so I quickly unclamped it, making a small tear in the leg. A small bit of fluff peeked out.

Oops. That wasn't good.

I returned to the bedroom, and retrieved a piece of transparent tape, which I returned with and then used to secure the rip. Hopefully she wouldn't notice.

Moving my attention to the maid outfit, it seemed pretty simple. It had a zip in the back, so I could probably just slip it on from the legs up, thread its arms through the outfit, and then zip it up again.

So I did so.

Afterward, I hiked the dress up a bit at the back so I could replace the clamp, and tried to disguise that fact as best I could.

I then stood back, and had a look.

The maid outfit fit perfectly. She looked like she could just walk off and immediately start tidying the place.

Wait, she? Well, she certainly did look much more like a person now that she was clothed. I decided I liked thinking of her as she, and resolved to continue.

I smirked to myself, then felt an urge, followed by a quick jaunt to the washroom.


After that relief, I reentered the bedroom.

And something was missing.

Those sets of clothes I had left on the bed, they were missing. The bags they had been vacuum packed in, and the hangers, as well.

Well, I thought, it's not like they could've jumped up on their own, right? I must have misplaced them. Maybe I had carried them in with me into the closet and dropped them without thinking.

So I walked into the closet again, and found them.

Only, they weren't packed any more, and they weren't folded any more. They were all hanging from the rack on the left side of the room, where I had been told to put them.

What's more, the dummy was gone.

Someone else was here.

So I ran out of the closet, past the maid, and into the hallway.



I walked back into the room, and stared at the maid.

She was dusting with a small feather duster, and had her back turned, but I was sure I recognized her. At the very least, I recognized that outfit. It was the same one I put on the dummy, or at least the same type.

Now, I was pretty sure she never hired a maid. She would never need them, with the amount of organization she kept in this house. Not to mention she could get me to help her with that.

"Uh, hello?" I said.

She turned to me, and revealed her plastic anime face to me. She smiled, as if she had a choice, curtsied slightly, then turned back to dusting.

She was the dummy.


This wasn't possible.

Mannequins don't come to life. Especially not ones that have been vacuum sealed and stored for at least three months.

I crept up to her, and stood just a few inches from her back, examining the maid outfit.

It wasn't possible, but it was the exact outfit. Every crease, the positioning of the frills, even the placement of the zipper was exactly as I had placed upon the dummy.

Curiosity overtook me, and I pulled up one side of her dress. Oddly enough, she didn't seem to mind, and went on dusting as I examined her.

Her skin was the same cloth skin as the dummy had, but there was a much stronger connection here.

The clamp I had placed around her thigh was still there, but more importantly, the piece of tape I had used to repair the small tear was there as well.

There was no doubt about it. She was the dummy.

But how was she moving?


I decided to just ask.

I stood back, a few paces away, and just said it.

"Uh, how are you moving?" I said.

She turned to me again, shrugged, and then continued to dust, moving on to a set of shelves.

Looking at the room, it looked like she had almost completed dusting. I didn't really know why she was doing it, though.

"Er, why are you dusting?" I asked.

She turned and shrugged again.

She didn't seem very vocal.

I began to think about things. About my assumptions, and about who this was. There was a gap in time between when I dressed the dummy and when I returned from the washroom, and that was around four or five minutes.

There was no way someone could've stripped the dummy, including its cloth skin, hidden the insides, then worn it in that short of a time.

Though if there were a real person inside, how could she have survived for three months trapped inside a vacuum packed plastic bag in a plastic bin? Though I couldn't prove she had been in that state that whole time, it seemed like a dangerous thing to be vacuum packed and wait for discovery for any amount of time.

And what's more, when I cut her leg before, there was clearly a bit of white fluffy stuffing inside. I didn't take the time to carefully inspect it, but it made sense that she was that way the whole way through.

I needed more information.


As I continued to think, she continued to dust.

It didn't seem like asking questions would get me much info. She didn't talk, whoever she was, so perhaps the best way to figure things out would be direct experimentation.

I stared at her for a moment, while she dusted, her maid outfit shifting slightly from side to side as she went. Hmm, was it possible she was going through the motions as a maid because she was dressed as a maid? That was a pretty large logical leap, but I decided to run with it.

So I quietly walked up to her, and unzipped her outfit in a single, quick motion.

It fell to the floor softly, followed by the feather duster. She turned to me with an almost violent jerk, then froze in position, and began to fall towards me.

I knelt and caught her in my arms, but the life that had been in her had apparently disappeared. I pulled her up in my arms as I stood, and placed her naked form onto the bed.

Her behaviour seemed to match my hypothesis, though. If she wasn't dressed, she did nothing. But if she was, she did whatever she was dressed to do.

And then I had an idea.


I took the maid outfit with me to the closet, hung it up on a hanger on the rack, and then retrieved another outfit.

The most obvious one for my purposes, the rubber fetish suit.

I smirked to myself, and returned with it to her. It was a lot more complicated to put on her than the maid outfit, what with the rubber panties, gloves, stockings, and whatnot, but I figured I'd manage.

First, I carefully removed the clamp, making sure not to tear her again. That would be an awful thing.

I started with the body piece. It had a zip in the front, so it actually went onto her body easier than the maid dress, much like a jacket. I needed to use a bit more force to get it on and zipped up, but I did manage to get it into position. Once on, it outlined her feminine shape perfectly, bringing up highlights upon her curves and chest.

Next were the rubber panties. These slipped through her legs easily, and were fairly easy to position. They covered up her smoothness perfectly, and gave a nice accent to her smooth, round bottom.

Next were the rubber stockings. These were surprisingly tight, but I managed to slip them onto her. They also came with two buckles each, which easily snapped to the body piece on each side.

Then I sat on the bed, turned to her, and waited.


For a long while, nothing happened.

Then, I realized I'd forgotten something. I hadn't placed those rubber gloves on her.

So I proceeded to do so, softly taking one arm, and slipping it on, then following with the other. These were even tighter than the stockings, but that made sense since they had no garters to keep them in place.

With those in place, I waited again.

And nothing continued to happen.

Then, I remembered that the last time this happened, I wasn't watching. So, I turned away, and waited again, this time quietly listening.

For a good thirty seconds I heard nothing, though. It wasn't until I felt the hand on my shoulder that I realized something was happening.

She tugged my shoulder, and I turned around.

"Oh, hello again," I said, wearing the kind of toothy smile you'd wear when you were expecting to receive a hard slap to the face.

In response, she just stared at me with those cold, blue eyes, as if she were staring straight through me.

"Um," I said.

She proceeded to grab me by the shoulders, and violently thrust me down onto the bed.

", now," I said, my voice audibly quivering. "Let's not get too hasty, shall we?"

She didn't seem to be listening, though. Instead, she began to crawl over me, pressing her weight into my chest through her hands, and smoothly sliding her rubber stocking'd legs over my own.

She seemed to only have a single motivation.


Once she had gotten into a position directly above me, her hands shot over to my shirt, and began to unbutton it.

My mind raced. I quietly cursed myself for even thinking of this. After my hypothesis was proven true, what did I expect to happen?

My only chance to escape this was to undress her again. So, I raised my hand to her zipper...

And her hand caught mine, and forced it back down to the bed.

I struggled a bit, but she was surprisingly strong. I couldn't dislodge my hand, no matter how much strength I put into it.

She stared into my eyes again, with that cold, hard stare that could break glaciers. She seemed to know what I was thinking, and was quite against it. She proceeded to grab my other hand as well, even though I hadn't made a single provocative move with that one.

Still, at least with her hands busy like this, she couldn't continue to undress me.

But, as it turns out, she had other ideas.


She pressed her body against me, while her hands kept mine restrained, impressing against me the smoothness of the rubber body piece and the firmness of her cloth breasts.

It was a distraction.

When she rose up again, my arms were above my head, and my wrists were held together tightly with her left hand. I tried to move them away, but she was still too strong.

I attempted to kick out a bit with my legs, but she quickly sandwiched them with her own, pressing them together, and proceeded to sit on them, severely limiting their motion.

With me secured, her right hand began to drift to my shirt, but suddenly paused.

I took a deep breath. It seemed like she was thinking for a moment.

It didn't last long, though, as her right hand proceeded to latch onto my pants, and undid them.


She looked down, then looked at me, making her permanent smirk appear more prominent than usual.

"Uhhh, what are you going to do?" I asked. "You're made of cloth, what can you do with that?"

I looked down as well, and noticed how excited I was. I felt bad for feeling that way in this situation, but I knew I couldn't blame her. I was the one who put her in that dominatrix-type outfit, and I should've understood the consequences of that choice.

She pulled up her legs onto mine, sitting Japanese-style upon me, and slowly shuffled towards me, her knees soon straddling either side of what she had revealed.

She didn't stop there, though. Instead, her knees continued along, rubbing me up and down and side to side along her legs, until I was in full contact with her panties.

And then she backed off again, still rubbing her legs against me as she pulled away, up and down and side to side.

I continued to expand as she repeated the ritual, the friction of her cloth skin on her upper thigh giving a distinct impression different from the rubber on her knees. The transition itself was beautiful, not abrupt like you might expect, but seemingly forming a curve as she moved in and out.

And when I exploded after uncounted repetitions, I could not deny that I had enjoyed it.


That was pretty much the last thing I remembered before falling asleep.

It seems like all that effort I had made previously tired me out, and that experience tipped me over into unconsciousness.

I sat up, rubbed my eyes, and wasn't surprised at all to find that the dummy was lying down next to me.

But she was bare, only wearing the cloth of her skin. The fetish outfit had been removed somehow, and had been left in a clump at the foot of the bed.

I suppose with her task done, she didn't need to wear it any more.

Turning to her once more, and staring at her unmoving form for a while, I noticed something.

She was breathing.

I hadn't noticed before, but her chest had a distinct rise and fall.

I suppose it was possible I simply wasn't paying attention before, but it was much more likely she was intentionally holding her breath while I was watching. Now that she was unconscious, she was breathing freely.

Studying her even closer now, and brushing her long hair to one side, I noticed a small groove in the side of her head. Placing my hands to her face, I pressed down, shifted it up slightly, and then removed it.

It was a costume.

And someone who had supposedly gone out on an errand was inside.


So, we decided to talk.

I wasn't really interested in the why, but more the how.

"Anyway, how did you get into that box?"

"Oh, that was a little difficult. Mind grabbing that same box from the room again? That bag too, whereever you left it."

So I walked over and nabbed those two things, and returned to find her adjusting a timer on a nearby wall socket, in which was plugged in a vacuum.

"This is so the vacuum turns off by itself," she said, with a slight grin. She proceeded to take the bag from me, and pull away the transparent tape I had used to mend it.

"That hole was there for a reason," she said, laying the bag out onto the bed. "Oh," she continued, "and put the box upside down beside the bag on the bed, would you?"

I did so, and she swiftly opened the bottom with a quick motion, revealing that it was on a hinge.

"Now this is the tough bit," she said, "and I can't talk while I do it, so watch carefully." She grabbed her plastic face, and clicked it into position, becoming the dummy once more. She adjusted the timer one more time, comparing it to a wall clock, and then turned on the vacuum, leaving the nozzle on the bed.

She then crawled onto the bed and entered the bag, running an arm through the hole to the outside and sealing the bag's zip. she then retracted her arm, then pressed her plastic face against the hole, and took up a pose closely resembling her vacuumed position.

And then, with great effort, she folded the bag around her arms, and grasped the nozzle with her hands. She then lay down once more, with her knees up, carefully straddling the nozzle, and directing it to the air valve, located just above the center of her belly.

The bag deflated slowly, but noticeably, once again enclosing her in a thin layer of transparent plastic, accentuating her delicate curves with a slight shimmer. After a few minutes, the vacuum turned off in accordance with the timer, and she proceeded to half-kick, half-knee the nozzle away.

She then rested for a moment. She could clearly breathe through the mask and through the large plastic hole in the bag, and demonstrated as such. She proceeded to then flip herself onto her stomach, and inched into the plastic bin, like a caterpillar. One sudden nudge slammed the hinged bottom back into position, and another motion flipped the whole thing over.

"Wow," I said.


I casually walked over to the bin, and removed the top.

She nodded at me, and squirmed a bit.

"Incidentally," I said, "what would you have done if I hadn't found you right away?"

She didn't answer, but instead squirmed a bit more.

I decided to be nice, and let her out. She removed her face again, and we talked a bit more.

"So, that was that," she said.

"You do realize how dangerous that was," I said. "You could've been stuck in a bad place at any point in it."

"It wasn't that bad," she replied. "Besides, I had a spotter just in case."

"Er, if you had another person," I said, "wouldn't it have been easier to do all this with that person?"

"Oh, but what fun would that be?" she said, grinning.

"And who," I asked, "would this spotter be?"

She took my hand, walked me back to the closet, and slid out a panel on the right side, revealing another dummy.

Though she was a story for a different time.



If you've enjoyed this story, please write to the author and let them know - they may write more!
back to