Whose Alimony?

Part 2

Friday morning, Ochsianna finds herself in the glossing booth. Holding up her hands, the nozzles give below her waist an even coat. A series of tiny blow dryers even it out, making her skin look smooth, unblemished, and glossy. As it moves to the next section, two suction cups are placed over her nipples, matching her skin tone. She is then glossed over, leaving her breasts looking like plastic mounds, nipple-less. Nearly done, she checks her nose plugs, before getting her arms and neck and head glossed. The booth door opens, revealing a moving, breathing mannequin. She carefully steps out to find Betsy waiting on her.

“Ochs, got you a new assignment today.” Betsy stops to breathe, so Ochsianna can say, “Good morning to you too, Betsy.” Betsy says good morning then goes on, “One of the idiots over in transfers messed up, and now we got to cover her mistake.” Ochsianna would make a face, but hers is quite stiff at the moment. “As you know, the mall has several stores owned by our vice president and his son. Since they are connected, we share mannequins to them all, since we have the facilities.” Ochsianna was familiar with this, and had been “swapped” to another store for a day during a big sale or something. “Well,” Betsy continues, “the costume store on the other end needs another female, and evidently we promised them one, but we never actually told anyone.” Betsy says every ‘we’ with emphasis and sarcasm, leaving no doubt it was not her fault. “anyway, I need you to be at Clara’s Costumes for the day.” Ochsianna would protest, but it is hard to talk and it would do no good. Ah well, she thinks, at least it is Friday.

The mall opens later than the department store, so her trip through the mall was uneventful. There were people around, but all workers trying to get the stores open for the day. She saw other humannequins being moved around from store to store, all naked like her. She arrives at Clara’s, as the mannemover stops just inside the door. Her costume shop is quite expansive, with costumes for all shapes and sizes. With Halloween coming, her store will get much business. And since she is Mr Baxter’s girlfriend (or maybe mistress), she gets whatever she wants.

Ochsianna has no idea her pose or costume, so she waits on the mannemover, locked into it anyway. “Hey, Clara,” a female voice yells, “your mannequin is here.” Clara comes down the center aisle. She is wearing some type of witch’s outfit, complete with a hat. She is rather short, maybe a little overweight, but not unattractively so. Her blonde curly hair makes her look 10 years younger. She walks up to Ochsianna and runs her hand down her stiff arm. “Oh boy,” she squeals, “She is perfect.”

Ochsianna really cannot dress herself once she had been glossed. Any large movements can crack the coating, damaging the whole reason behind it. Clara pulls out her cellphone, looking for something on it. Tapping the screen, the mannemover takes off again towards the center of the store. Ochsianna can see two other mannequins there, one on either side of an opening (probably for me). So to her left, there will be Dracula and to her right, Little Bo Peep. Hmmm, she ponders, I wonder what I will be.

As the mannemover stops inbetween them, Clara steps in closer. “Well, time to make you look amazing.” Clara’s assistants step in and start pulling a coat on her arms. She can feel the buttons across her stomach. She can feel the tight pants being stretched across her legs, as they are snapped or buttoned on the sides. She is tilted over slightly to allow them to slip the boots on her, slowly zipping them up. Ochsianna figures they come to about her knee. She can see a three cornered hat being placed on her head. The one girl steps back, looking confused. Clara answers the unspoken question, “The sexiest Mrs Washington you have ever seen.” The colonial uniform has tight, tight pants, overcoat open at the top for cleavage, knee high boots, and a tricorne hat, with hands on hips and a sultry smile.

Ochsianna feels like she usually does when she is swapped: an object. In the department store, she is treated much better, more like a person. These people only see the money prospects and me as a very nice mannequin. She can feel hands adjusting her outfit, brushing off any pieces of lint. Finally, they leave her alone, and the mall opens (a loud chime can be heard throughout the building). She would let out a heavy sigh, as Dracula and Bo Peep look on, but her glossed smile will not let her. Seeing the first customers walking by the store, she decides to let it go. Nothing I can do now anyway, she grumbles to herself. Without really thinking about it, she begins her steps to hibernate. The quietness of the store and lack of customers makes it easier than usual. She becomes a mannequin within seconds.

At some point in the day, Desmond makes his usual rounds on the stores. He likes to check out the new mannequins on display. He does not even pause when he comes to the entrance of Clara’s store. He saw Mrs Washington long ago and was making straight towards her. He was taking in every curve, every shiny crease on her boots, and every skin baring spot. He takes a quick look around. There is only one customer, and she has both store workers busy. Desmond smiles wickedly and fishes into his pocket.

He walks by Ochsianna and presses the button on a tiny clicker in his pocket. The mannemover comes to life, relocking her ankles, and backing out of its position. He moves to a dressing room, where the mannemover follows obediently. He steps to one side as it attempts to follow him into the room. Once it crosses the doorframe, he double clicks the remote. The mannemover shuts down, unlocks her, and re-elevates her. All of this movement does nothing to her self-hypno, as she has been trained to ignore these movements.

Desmond takes another look around and closes the door. Within seconds, he has his hands on her butt. “mmm” he moans, “so tight, so hard.” Running them up and down her legs, he pulls in closer. With the sound of a zipper, his unit snaps to attention just under her butt. With slight motions, he grinds her slowly. As he intensifies his grinding, Ochsianna begins to awaken. Her vision starts to return first. Strange, she thinks, I almost feel someone is… but her self-hypno stops her thoughts from going any further. She is facing a mirror, and a humannequin cannot come out of a trance (forcefully) in front of a mirror. Her vision starts to return, she sees herself, and then she tells herself: “I am a mannequin.” Her brain returns to hibernate before she can even react to what is happening to her.

Desmond doesn’t need long to make a mess, but he won’t make it today. Clara returns from lunch, her loud voice able to be heard everywhere. He knows he cannot get caught again with a mannequin in her store. Cursing under his breath, he steps back, releasing his hold on her breasts, and reaches for his pants’ pocket. Mashing the button three times, the mannemover awakens, locks the mannequins ankles, and starts to return to its last position. Desmond manages to get the door open and his pants up before Ochsianna knocks it down with a smile. He sighs heavily, as his prize drives away. Clara comes into view, just as Ochsianna is put back in place - no one saw anything out of the ordinary. Straightening himself, he walks awkwardly out of the store, knowing the leather outfitters store is close by. He can find relief there.

Ochsianna wakes up back in the department store dressing room. Her stomach growls unhappily, her body aches, and she knows immediately: spent the whole day as a mannequin with no breaks. The gloss is mostly gone, absorbed by her skin or evaporated into the air, she moves herself slowly over to the showers. Ouch, she complains, I am never buying anything from that store… ever. But, it’s Friday, she smiles.

She makes small talk with some of her girlfriends as they get dressed in the locker room. She lets them do most the talking, as usual, which is why she is so popular. Everyone likes Ochs, and as much as she hates to admit it, she likes being liked. She hates having to do this whole mannequin thing, but you do what you have to do, she reminds herself. Saying goodbye to them, she heads out the door in her usual lycra wear. Neal sees her heading to her scooter and makes a motion for her to wait for him. He walks a little faster, as he asks, “Heard you spent the day at Clara’s?”

She nods wearily, but then as he approaches, she straightens up. Her shoulders roll back, her chest sticks out further, and she playfully runs her hand up her purse strap as her feminine hormones go to work. Stop it, she demands, I am not a woman and he is not that attractive.

“I know it is rough down there,” he says awkwardly. She nods again, looking into his big gorgeous eyes. “say, I am leaving too, uh, are you, uh, hungry?”

Yes, she thinks, but I’m not telling him that. She draws in a breath to say no, but her stomach growls loudly. She grabs her stomach, giggling, “oops.” “I guess that is a yes?” Idiot, she complains to herself, you giggled, what is your problem? “No, I mean yes, I mean not sure.” She laughs uncomfortably.

He says, “I was going to get some hot wings at the sports bar. I’m buying.” She knows what is waiting back at the apartment, and her latest check has not cleared in the bank yet. It is days-old leftovers or hot wings. Her silence made him rethink his last statement, “Uh, this would not be a date, just friends, uh, going out to eat.” Ignoring his lame attempt to cover himself, she dreams of food, Mmmm, some hot wings would taste good right now. Without a grin, she says, “Race you there.” Pulling out her helmet, she is moving out of the parking lot before he can even get into his car. It would be hard to tell who had the bigger smile on their face.

Sports Bars of the future look much like the ones of any era. There are plenty of bar areas to lean against for drinks. They have small tables in no apparent pattern with chairs encircling all around the floor. Every wall has a different screen with games from sports all over. Men and women alike fill the place with the noise of talking and laughter. This is a happy place, where everyone is accepted (so long as you have money and an appetite).

Neal knew a shortcut, so he just beat Ochs to the parking area. She stows her helmet away while pulling a hair band out of the seat compartment. Wrapping her hair back in a pony tail, she walks to the bar entrance. Neal, probably smiling too broadly, holds the door for her. She smiles and nods her head as she enters “heaven.” It had been a long time since Ochs or Patton had been out in the “real” world. The sights and sounds are almost overwhelming, stopping her in her tracks. The smells of fresh, fried food… the sounds of sporting crowds and whistles… the movement of color as the waiters and waitresses move about… Ochs just stops and takes it all in. Neal, not sure what she is doing, thinks she might be getting cold feet. Sliding his arm around her, he steers her towards a booth to the left. Normally, Ochs might had been upset with him touching her, but the sensory overload is still keeping her from thinking straight.

Before she knows it, she stumbles into the booth with 2 other couples. Looking at her most immediate surroundings, she recognizes one of the men and one of the ladies as both being humannequins. The other guy is a total unknown, but the other lady seems familiar. She might work in one of the other department store sections, Ochs thinks. The introductions are short, as they all act like they know each other. Neal squeezes in beside her, as the six of them fill the L-shaped booth completely.

Distracted by the TV screens, Ochs scans for the latest games. She does not even realize when the drinks start coming. Within moments, they finish their first round, with another replacing it. The guys are all talking sports across the table, with the two ladies next to her chatting about work. Ochs really does not want to connect with any of them, as there is no future in their friendship. However, she has no choice when one of them says, “I gotta go. Come on, ladies!” Ochs cannot say no, even though she has no desire to leave the table. The guys make some sexist remark which earns one of them a slap on the arm. Neal is already moving, winking at Ochs. “You ladies are something else,” he chuckles. Ochs smiles and shrugs her shoulders, following the other two to the ladies room.

Blonde and Red go in first and make for a stall, chatting the whole time. Ochs is fine, so she just checks herself in the mirror, while glancing at one of the TVs on the back wall to get the score. Blonde comes out quickly and starts washing her hands. Ochs tries to keep up with the small talk. “uh oh,” Red says from her stall, “I need a hand, girls.” Blonde looks at her with her hands dripping from the water. She gives her that look of “sorry, my hands are wet and can’t dry them off right now.” Ochs rolls her eyes thinking, why is it always me? She steps slowly up to the stall. She touches the door as if it might attack her. The door slowly opens, revealing a sight she did not expect.

Blonde is standing with her pants bunched up around her hips. The shiny black material must hug every curve, which I am sure her boyfiend loves, Ochs thinks with a grin. She has her loose fitting shirt pulled up to her chest saying, “I can’t pull them up by myself. I think the material shrank when I pulled them down.” Ochs nods knowingly. She seems to remember that some spandex/lycra wear have a body heat component. They expand with your body heat to fit you almost perfectly. It takes longer to get dressed as you have to let your body warm the material up. However, there is a vent blowing out cold air right on her, which may be making it tougher to pull up. Blonde says, “Maybe you can grab and pull up while I hold up my shirt.”

Ochs has no better plan, so she replies, “Works for me.” Stepping close to her, she bends down and grabs the shiny black tights, one hand by either hip. Pulling up, she feels the material stretch and move as it comes up, covering her at the waist. Ochs steps back, but the material seems scrunched too much. Blonde just stares at her with a frown, “What are you doing stopping? Keep going.” At that point, Blonde lifts her shirt higher revealing her large, round breasts to Ochs.

The chemical imbalance within Ochs is kept in check regularly. At this point though, the testosterone in her blood stream kicks in overdrive. She tries not to stare, but it is hard now. Averting her eyes, she reaches down to pull up Blonde’s tights. Blonde could not help but notice that look, so she whispers, “You get to touch them when you pull up my tights. You can leave them there if you want.” Ochs’ head is exploding now. Her mental state is screaming “yuck” but her body is saying “yes.” Grabbing the tights at her waist, she pulls them up. The back of her hands rub up Blonde’s breasts as she covers them.

Blonde lets go of her shirt and slips her arms around Ochs. Before Ochs can remove her hands from under her shirt, Blonde pulls her in close gently pressing her lips to hers. Ochs’ testosterone continues to win, as she kisses back. Blonde drops her hands to Ochs’ butt and squeezes her cheeks. Blonde pulls back, looking up into Ochs’ eyes, “Thanks for the help.”

Ochs smiles in shock saying, “Your welcome.”

Blonde releases her, leaving Ochs standing there breathless. Blonde opens the door saying, “Wardrobe malfunction, but she set me right.” Red nods as she heads for the door. “You coming?” Ochs nods and moves to the door, following the other ladies out. What a day this has been, she thinks in disbelief.

The rest of the evening goes without incident. As she gets escorted to her scooter, Ochsianna admits she had a good time. Neal thanks her for coming with lots of “um” and “yeah” words mixed in there. She is exhausted and is not really in the mood to play any more games tonight. She pecks him on the cheek and turns to her helmet. With her back to him, she expected that he might make a move on her. But, nothing happened, so she mounts her scooter, helmet on her head, and starts the electric engine. Neal waves awkwardly to her and she drives off. She frowns as she speeds around the curve, “Am I that lame when I’m around a hot chick?”

story continues in Part Three
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