Paul led a very basic and lonely life. He was on his final year of five years of engineering school and totally immersed in his studies. He rarely dated and never formed a meaningful relationship. After college he would probably go to work for a high tech firm as a starting engineer. A lifetime of boredom lay ahead of him.

Paul needed something more in his life and that something more walked up and sat next to him in the Tex-Mex across the street from campus.

Her name was Zena. The name itself spelled excitement! Zena was everything that Paul wasn’t—outgoing, flashy and talkative. Paul was entranced by her personality and her beauty. Zena wore a tight fitting sleeveless top with a low neckline. Her evenly tanned skin was perfectly even in tone—not even a freckle. She had a wonderful head of dark brown hair. She had to be the most beautiful woman Paul had ever seen. Paul felt a hardening between his legs as he took quick peeks at her "perfect" breasts. He could glimpse the whiteness of her bra under the top. The white bra looked exquisite and brand new against her tanned skin. Not once did Paul wonder why a girl like Zena would be attracted to a nerdy looking, freckled redhead like him.
 
 


 

Within a few weeks Zena moved in with Paul. When Zena made love to Paul—his first—and the experience was beyond his wildest imagination!

Zena literally changed Paul’s life. A life once consumed with mathematical equations and computer simulations, was now spending every minute looking forward to being with Zena. Paul’s wardrobe changed—he went from polyester pants, blue dress shirts (pencil protectors included) and black dress shoes to khaki pants and polo shirts with designer labels. He even had his hair styled. His favorite sport went from computer games to skydiving. Zena truly made him alive.

But oddly, Paul never knew to much about Zena. He knew she worked at the mall, but he never knew quite what she did. He thought that she must make good money since she was always coming home with shopping bags filled with new clothes from Davila’s--the largest and most expensive store at the mall.

Then it happened. They had been living together for about two months when Paul came home to see Zena crying on the couch.

"What’s wrong!?" Paul would do anything to help Zena. He was on an emotional high that he never wanted to end.

"I’m in trouble—big trouble," cried Zena.

"What’s wrong."

"I’m in debt up to my ass and back. Look." Zena held up an official looking letter that had come in the mail that day. Paul lifted the letter from her hands. It was from Davila’s. Paul read the letter:

Dear Zena:

Over the past months we have tried to speak with you on multiple occasions about your account that is seriously past due. The current due on your account is $12,476.29. Bob Nikenam, our vice president for asset recovery, will be in his office to speak with you at 11:00 a.m. on Thursday, June 6. We suggest that you meet this appointment. We have surveyed your financial situation and feel that you have purchased items with no intention to pay for them and by the laws of this state you can be prosecuted for theft. In this state a conviction of theft through a credit card carries a minimum term of three years in prison (TAR 3455.2). Obviously we would prefer other options and Mr. Nikenam is prepared to share those options with you. His office is on the third floor in customer service.

Sincerely,

Margaret Frease

Credit Supervisor

Paul wanted to scream as he thought to himself. Holy shit! Twelve thousand bucks! How could a person ever charge twelve thousand bucks! "Is this true?" he whispered to the still sobbing Zena.

"Yes."

"Do you have the money to pay this? I mean, er . . a . . you always seem to have plenty of money."

"No. I have two dollars and twenty-five cents. That’s it, I’m broke."

"What about your parents, or family?"

"I have no one. I’m alone, you’re all I’ve got."

"I’m broke too," admitted Paul. "Between college and the new clothes since we’ve met, I’m in debt myself." Paul paused then look back to Zena, "what are you going to do?"

"I guess I’ll be seeing this Bob Nikenam at 11:00 on Thursday. Oh, crap! That’s tomorrow!"
 
 


 

It was finals week on June 6 and Paul didn’t get out of his 11:00 exam until 1:30. His mind was absorbed with Zena’s predicament. He rushed home and walked in the door at 1:45. Zena was sitting at the table eating a sandwich, looking as if nothing had happened.

"How was your day, honey?"

"Never mind my day," Paul shot back. "What did Bob Nikeman, or whatever his name was, say?"

"It’s okay hon. I just have to be a mannequin for a year and they’ll clear my debt. I’ve done it before. I start tomorrow."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Paul wondered if the stress had done something to Zena, she was totally relaxed and talked nonsense.

"Just like I said, I’ll be a mannequin for Davila’s for a year and they’ll clear my debt. They have the ability to turn my body into a mannequin and return me to normal at the end of a year. They like realistic mannequins and it’s worth twelve grand for them to have my body for a year."

Paul was astonished. "I-I-I’ve never heard of such a thing. How can it be possible?"

"It is. I did it a year or so ago. My charge card was up to fifteen grand then. I just got off a few months before I met you. Time flies when you’re doing it, you don’t age and they can mold your body into the perfect shape. I was twenty pounds overweight when I started the first time."

Paul still couldn’t believe his ears and his scientific mind had questions. "How do they do it?"

"Well, first of all, this Bob Nikenam is really a doctor and Margaret Frease is his nurse. I go in to their lab and take off all my clothes. Then the lady shaves my body bare—and I mean bare! Every bit of hair is gone, even my eyebrows. Then comes the uncomfortable part, they lay me down on a table and they put a tube down my throat and another one up my ass. The tubes are hooked up to a machine that pumps out all my excess body fluids and fills me up with some white creamy looking fluid.

"Then they leave me alone for about an hour. I’m strapped to the table—I think so I can’t change my mind and try to leave. After an hour they come back and stand me up. I’m perfectly stiff by now and can’t move. They pose my body into the mannequin pose and begin to massage by body into shape. Wherever they put me I stay. They have some suction device that can take away fat or add shape however they desire. The doctor guy is always measuring me while the lady forms my figure into the perfect mannequin shape.

"When they are finally finished. They spray a hardening substance over my body and leave me overnight to dry. In the morning they take me to the display people who dress me up for the display.

"Like I say, I did it before. When I was awake, I was aware of everything going on around me. It was a little boring, but it wasn’t so bad. Time really went fairly quick and in the end you get a great body and no debt!

"The only drawbacks are having to cut off your life for a year and having to occasionally be naked in public. But after a while I actually looked forward to changing day, I guess I liked the attention. Also, it was a bummer every now and then when a security guard or someone would fondle me. Although there was this cute display staffer, Gary I think, that caressed me in such a way that I was actually turned on. I had a dry, frozen orgasm!"

Paul sat dumbfounded, he couldn’t believe his ears.

"You can’t tell anybody though. I sign a confidentiality agreement and if they find out that I tell anybody—other than you —they would reinstall my debt."

Paul didn’t say much. He actually felt guilty. Instead of being worried for Zena, the more he thought of her being made into a mannequin, the more he was turned on. That evening they had great sex over and over, finally going to bed at 2:00 a.m. During the course of the evening they talked while Paul recharged. Zena confessed that she really loved Paul and wondered if he would still be there for her a year from then. Paul assured her that he’d be there for her, he couldn’t bear to lose this woman that had brought new erotic excitement to his life.
 
 


 

On Friday morning, Paul took Zena down to Davila’s. There he met Margaret Frease. She assured him that things would be okay and told him that he could come to the store a half hour before opening on Saturday morning and see Zena in her mannequin form. Paul and Zena embraced in a goodbye kiss that would have to last a year. Paul then headed back to his last exam and felt more lonely than ever. A different kind of loneliness, a loneliness that had had a love that was now absent.

The next morning Paul was at the side entrance to Davila’s at 9:30 sharp. He had slept a restless night with dreams and visions of what Zena would look like as a mannequin. Although he felt sorry for Zena having to pay the penalty for overspending, he still became arroused when he thought of the process that they put Zena through to become a mannequin. He also wondered what it would be like having your body prepared to be made into a mannequin. He further wondered what it would be like being stiff and immobile, having someone else dress you and really do whatever they wanted with your body. The more he thought the more turned on he was and the more. . . could it be envious? . . . he was. He had finally gone to sleep with a wild mixture of thoughts in his head.

Margaret Frease met Paul at the door at 9:32. Paul would remember the time. His anxiety caused him to frequently check on his watch. "Good morning Paul," welcomed Margaret. "Zena did very well, she is currently on display. You may go and find her."

"Find her? Where's she at?"

"I'll tell you where she's at if you wish, but I find that most people enjoy looking through the store to try and find their partner."

"Okay. I'll look on my own. Will you be going with me?"

"Only if you want me to," reassured Margaret Frease.

With that, Paul set out across the first floor looking for the mannequin that was Zena. He quickly found that the first floor had cosmetics, accessories and men's clothing--very few mannequins. Up the escalator to the second floor. This floor was devoted to women's clothing and there were plenty of mannequins to choose from. Paul looked anxiously looked for Zena. Mannequins lined the aisles. At a distance Paul noticed a mannequin with Zena's brunette hair color, styled in the same way. His heart pounding in anticipation, Paul walked up to the mannequin. She was wearing tight fitting jeans and a short white top that exposed her midriff in the space between her jeans and her top. But looking her in the eyes, he could tell it wasn't Zena.

Paul then took the escalator up to the third and final floor. At the top of the escalator Paul saw home furnishings and kitchen wear--no mannequins. But turning around he saw mannequins! Intimate apparel and children's clothing were on the back side of the floor. Paul walked over to the intimate apparel department. The department was huge with rose colored walls and racks filled with pastel colored bras, panties, slips and sleepwear.

At the entrance to the department were two displays. On the right were two beautiful mannequins dressed in sleepwear. But the display on the left immediately caught Paul's attention. Paul knew without a doubt that he had found Zena. The display had a single mannequin, Zena, standing with her right arm resting on a Greek pillar. Zena was wearing a black strapless bra with matching black panties and garter belt. Attached to the garter belt were sheer black thigh high stockings. She was astonishingly beautiful. She looked so real, but at the same time looked so unreal. Her eyes were fixed straight ahead and her face looked serious and confident.

Paul quickly put his hands in his pockets to lessen the teepee that had grown between his legs. He looked around to see if anyone was in the store yet and saw a sales woman at the cash register in the department. She was getting ready for the busy day ahead and their eyes momentarily connected.

Zena had routinely taken Paul to new levels of ecstasy over the past two months and this was another new high. It was all Paul could do to not jump up on the display and mount the mannequin Zena right on the spot.

"She's a pretty one isn't she?" The woman's voice startled Paul into reality.

"Yes . . . a . . . yes she is."

"Can I help you with anything? The store really isn't open for another fifteen minutes, but if you need something I can help." Paul was still startled. The woman was in her late twenties and pretty herself. Her shoulder length blonde hair looked especially golden against the black top and skirt she was wearing. Paul noticed a name tag pinned to her chest. Her name was Shelley. She looked wholesome and nice.

"Uh, I'm just looking. Margaret Frease let me into the store early to . . . a . . . um . . . (Paul stammered as he thought of an excuse) . . . a . . . inspect the mannequins to see if they need repairs." The last words shot out of Paul's mouth with great speed.

"Well, these mannequins are brand new. If fact I just dressed this one about ten minutes ago. They probably don't need repairs, but feel free to look around. I'm running over to customer service and I'll be back in a few minutes. My name is Shelley, if you need any help."

"Thank you," Paul stuttered.

With Shelley gone, Paul looked around and found that he was all alone. He stepped up on the display and looked Zena straight in the eye. If what Zena had told him was true, she could see what was going on and understand every word he said. Paul caressed Zena. He gently touched her hard mannequinized breasts and let his hand follow a trail down to her sex. It was here that he hoped Zena could feel the sensuality of his love for her.

Paul jumped when a single bell rang signaling that the store was now open for business. Paul said a few words in Zena's ear and vowed to visit her on a daily basis. Reluctantly, Paul left to go home and start looking for a summer job.
 
 


 

When Paul arrived home at about 10:30 a.m. he noticed a special delivery envelope on his doorstep. It was from Davila’s. Paul’s curiosity was aroused—why would Davila’s be writing him? He had a Davila’s charge card but had never used it, the card was still in his desk in its original envelope. Maybe this had something to do with Zena. Once inside his apartment, Paul quickly opened the envelope and was totally surprised by its contents:

Dear Paul:

We've just discovered that your account is seriously past due. The current due on your account is $15,037.31. Bob Nikenam, our vice president for asset recovery, will be in his office to speak with you at 11:00 a.m. on Sunday, June 9. We suggest that you meet this appointment. We have surveyed your financial situation and feel that you have purchased items with no intention to pay for them and by the laws of this state you can be prosecuted for theft. In this state a conviction of theft through a credit card carries a minimum term of three years in prison (TAR 3455.2). Obviously we would prefer other options and Mr. Nikenam is prepared to share those options with you. His office is on the third floor in customer service.

Sincerely,

Margaret Frease

Credit Supervisor

This was just like the letter Zena had received a few days prior! Except that this letter had $15,000 worth of debt instead of $12,000 like Zena’s. How could this be? Paul’s first reaction was to call them up and give them a piece of his mind, but the letter had no phone number or even an address--just an appointment that must be made.

Paul went to look for his Davila’s credit card in his desk. He found the envelope, but the card was gone. Paul was horrified at the obvious conclusion. In Zena’s spending spree, she must’ve used his card as well. Paul had inadvertently been drawn into Zena’s problem.

The rest of that day and until sleep finally fell that night, Paul’s mind pondered his situation. He wanted to feel anger toward Zena, but he couldn’t. He loved her too much, she had made too much of a difference in his life. Would this Margaret Frease and Bob Nikenam make him into a mannequin, just like they did Zena? Would he be forced to give up a year of his life? Would being made into a mannequin be as erotic as it sounded when Zena explained it to him?
 
 


 

Sunday morning at 10:50, Paul boarded the elevator on the ground floor of Davila’s and pressed the button for the third floor. The elevator directory stated that the third floor had lingerie (Zena’s home), children’s clothes, kitchen wares, home furnishings and customer service.

At the top of the elevator, Paul could see the customer service area straight ahead. Instead of going straight in, Paul turned around and looked back at Zena. There was something surreal about Zena. The overhead spot lights accented the subtle curves of the tops of her breasts, visible over the top of the curve enhancing strapless bra. No matter what Zena had done, Paul was infatuated by even her mannequin presence.

"You must be Paul," a voice interrupted and startled Paul, it was Margaret Frease, "it’s eleven o’clock, Mr. Nikenam is waiting for you. You can follow me."

A small "okay" was all that Paul could muster as he followed Margaret Frease through home furnishings and into customer service. In the back corner was an office with a brass plaque on the door, it read—
 
 


 

Paul didn’t think too much about the odd combination in Bob Nikenam’s title. He just walked in. He was scared stiff. Bob Nikenam was a distinguished looking man in his late 50s. He was impeccably dressed and had an excellent physique. He was smiling and seemed friendly despite the seriousness of the situation. Margaret Frease sat in one of the two chairs in the office and Paul sat in the other.

"Paul, I think you know why you are here. Zena told me about you while we were changing her into her present form. By the way, don’t you think she is stunning?"

"Y-Y-Yes, she is."

"She is very fond of you and is extremely sorry to have put you in this predicament. She is hoping that you’ll be there for her next June when her term is up. As you must have figured out by now, Zena extensively used your credit card as well as hers. Zena agreed to pay her debt in our visual merchandising department much in the same way that you used to be required to wash dishes if you couldn’t pay your restaurant bill. You now have the same option—or you can pay the debt in full today and go free. Those, along with jail, are your only options."

Paul gulped as Bob Nikenam pulled out a contract and continued, "we can start the process right now and have you on the display floor tomorrow morning. All you have to do is sign on the bottom of this contract and your debt is erased. What do you think?"

Bob Nikenam pushed things along like the best of salesmen. He made it sound se easy. Paul thought of the year ahead without Zena and without any additional thought reached forward and signed the contract.

"Just think," Bob stated as he shook Paul’s hand, "a year from now you’ll be with Zena and you’ll both be debt free and have beautiful new bodies. This is your best decision. Now if you’ll follow Margaret, she’ll prepare you for the transition."
 
 


 

Margaret Frease didn’t say much. She was tall—maybe even six foot. She was slender with exquisitely sculptured legs extending out her short sleeveless summer dress. She looked to be in her early forties and had sandy blonde hair.

They walked into a room that looked like a large medical exam room. To the right was a round display pedestal that was originally a black color but had been splattered with flesh colored paint. It looked like the pedestal could be made to spin around. On top of the pedestal was a gray rod extending straight up. About it were four heat lamps that looked like they could roll closer to the pedestal if necessary. To the left was a medical exam table with restraints and a large machine with a number of tubes and wires. Under the exam table was a drain and a couple of sockets.

"Take off your clothes," commanded Margaret Frease.

Paul looked around for a dressing room. "Where?"

"Here silly, next week some cute salesclerk will be undressing you in the middle of the store. You might as well get used to it, so get undressed please."

Paul reluctantly stripped down to his underwear, a standard issue pair of white briefs. Margaret Frease stared at his with no emotion. "All the way down, underwear too."

"Get on the table, face down," commanded Margaret Frease.

Paul did as he was told. The table allowed his head to stick off the edge while still being supported. The woman then pumped a hand full of creamy substance from a canister on the wall. She vigorously rubbed the cream all over Paul’s back. The cream burned, but the process felt good. It reminded Paul of a few years ago when he went to a massage therapist to ease the pain of a shoulder injury. Paul noticed that Margaret massaged the cream into every crevice of his body—between his toes and even between his buns.

With the cream drying, Margaret pulled out and razor and began to shave Paul’s head. He was startled and started to object. "It part of the process," was Margaret’s stern reminder, "all hair must go." Once his head was shaved, Margaret rubbed the same cream into his scalp. Paul tried to start idle conversation, a number of times during the process, but to no avail. Margaret was straight business and Paul was just a mannequin-to-be.

After a few minutes, Margaret strapped the restraints around Paul’s wrists and ankles. She then pulled out a small hose and blasted Paul’s body with extremely hot water. His pink freckled skin turned bright red and he screamed aloud with pain.

"I’m sorry for the hot water, we need it to activated the cream and take all the hair off your body." Margaret then loosened the restraints and told Paul to roll over on his back. He felt his back side and couldn’t believe how smooth it felt. It was like he never had any hair.

With Paul laying on his back, Margaret finished shaving his head and then rubbed the cream over the rest of his body. Again every part of his body got the cream—inside his nose and ears and all around his penis and scrotum. The later felt pretty good and Paul couldn’t resist getting a slight erection. Margaret smiled at him. Obviously she had done this before.

Before Paul could think about running away, Margaret again put on his restraints and quickly sprayed off his hair with the hot water. Somehow it hurt more this time.

"We’re done with step 1," stated Margaret Frease as she loosened the restraints. "I need you to roll over for step 2."

"What’s step 2?" Paul timidly asked as he gently rolled over his skin still tender from the hot spray.

"You’ll see. Just lie face down."

During the process of rolling over Paul was astonished at how smooth his body was. But he was starting to have second thoughts.

Bob Nikenam came in while Margaret was re-strapping the restraints. "How’s our new mannequin coming along?"

"Quite well, we’ve just finished step 1 and I’ll need you to initiate step two."

"Okay" came the quick reply. Paul was laying face down and although he could hear the two rummaging around behind him, he couldn’t tell what they were doing.

Then Bob Nikenam spoke, "Paul this next step would be extremely painful without a shot of painkiller." Paul then felt a sharp poke in his butt. Bob then came up to Paul’s back and Paul felt a similar shot in his neck or throat.

Almost immediately Paul felt a numbing sensation in his rear end and his throat. He was scared and anxious. He wanted out and tried to speak but found out he couldn’t. His vocal chords had been paralyzed.

Even with his numb butt, Paul could feel that they had worked a cold tube up his ass. It felt like it must’ve been a foot or so inside him. Then Bob came to the front with a blue plastic tube and worked it through Paul’s mouth and down his throat. During this ordeal, Margaret and Bob carried on a conversation about Davila’s latest fashion line and how they weren’t sure it was the best. Bob then used tape to fix the tube to Paul’s mouth.

With the tubes securely fastened in place, Bob flipped a switch and a machine began pumping a cream colored fluid into Paul’s mouth. Paul could fell the cold fluid enter his mouth and work its way through his body. After a moment he could feel the warmth of fluid exiting his body through his ass. The process wrenched his body and was not without pain. Paul couldn’t see it, but the fluid leaving his body at first was a dark brownish Shitty color.

After about ten minutes, the fluid leaving Paul was the same cream color as the fluid entering his body. Bob turned to Margaret, "The enema is complete, you may turn off the pump." Paul was relieved when she did. As Margaret removed the tubing Paul relaxed and hoped the worst was over. Although Paul could feel that Margaret had removed the tubing from his ass, it also felt like she'd left something in there. Then without warning Bob injected him with a pinkish colored fluid on his neck. He then traveled down Paul’s body with injections on his shoulders, elbows, wrists, waist, hips, knees and ankles.

"Well Paul, we’re half way there. That’s the end of step 2. We had to cleanse your body of any impurities and at the same time we’ve replaced them with a substance that will soften your tissue and allow us to mold your body into its mannequin form. The injections stiffen your joints to allow Margaret to pose you into your mannequin position. Everything needs to set for about an hour before we proceed to step 3. We’ll turn on some music and se you in a bit."

Margaret and Bob left Paul alone in the room with smooth jazz playing in the background. Paul was glad that Bob was a little more talkative than Margaret. At least he new what was going on. He dozed off to a short sleep and awoke alarmed when he notice that he couldn’t open his mouth. The fluid had sealed it shut! He realized that he had spoken his last word for a year and he couldn’t even remember what the last word was.
 
 


 

To Paul the hour seemed like an eternity. Finally Margaret came back into the room. "I'm going to stand you up. You probably won't be able to move on your own any more." She was right.

As Margaret lifted him up, Paul could feel how stiff and unmoving his body was. However, he could feel that his skin was not stiff at all. It was very soft and pliable. It felt like clay.

About that time Bob Nikenam came into the room. "How's he doing Margaret?"

"Well, I think we're ready for step 3. Can you help me lift him onto the pedestal?"

Together they lifted Paul onto the pedestal. Paul remembered seeing the rod sticking up from the based of the pedestal and soon knew where it went--straight up his ass. It was to hold him in place and keep him from falling forward or backward. Paul could also feel that some part of the enema pump had been left in his butt, probably to act as a socket for the rod.

Bob then went over to the side of the room out of Paul's vision. Paul could only look straight ahead. He had lost the ability to move his eyes back and forth. He put on two gloves that were attached to wires and tubes coming out of a machine. Bob then began to massage Paul's naked body with the gloves. He started on Paul’s shoulders and proceeded down his arms. After a few minutes Bob asked Margaret to take some measurements. He then continued on his arms until he was satisfied with the measurements. Paul thought to himself that this must be way they adjust a person's shape into the perfect mannequin form. He really couldn't tell what they had done to his arms, however he imagined them to be more muscular looking like some mannequins he had seen.

Following Paul's arms, Bob moved on to Paul’s hands, head, face, legs, thighs and even his feet. Throughout the process, Margaret carefully measured Paul's new dimensions against a standard that was their ideal shape. Paul couldn't see the process, but the gloves and attached machine gave Bob the ability to add volume through the skin or to take it away. He could literally sculpt Paul's body in any shape he desired.

Next came the lower half of Paul's torso. Paul began to think of male mannequins that he had seen and remembered that they usually weren't anatomically correct and had a lump in place of their genitals. How would this work on him? Bob gave the gloves to Margaret and she used the gloves to massage and manipulate Paul's genitals. Paul could feel that Margaret was somehow pushing his genitals back and down between his legs. This felt extremely good to Paul, but he could feel that he had no erection. His genitals moved in whatever way Margaret placed them and stayed in that place. Margaret stop and handed the gloves back to Bob. STOP! Paul wanted to yell. He wanted to embrace Margaret and tell her to keep on going. But movement or speaking was no longer in his realm.

Bob then used the gloves to finish the lower portion of his torso and continue up to his chest. With his eyes fixed forward, Paul still couldn't see, but it felt like Bob was adding bulk to his chest. Again Paul thought of the mannequins he had seen that were extremely well built. He had longed for such a body and now he could have it. Paul was liking step 3. Some people took a year of diet and exercise to achieve a great body. He'd reach the same goal by standing still for a year. This was great!

Bob began speaking, "Well Paul, were almost done. Step 4 involves posing you in your final pose and giving you a mannequin paint job. Margaret will take care of this step. I'll see you again when we take you to the display floor tomorrow morning." Bob then left the room.

Margaret Frease then began to meticulously move Paul's body into position. She positioned his legs so that his body leaned back on his left leg. She moved his left arm so that his hand rested on his hip. She even positioned his fingers. Paul's right arm was positioned so that his elbow was bent and his hand was at shoulder height positioned as if to catch a drop of falling rain. Margaret then tilted Paul's head to the left and turned his head as if to look just beyond his right hand.

"There we go. You look great."

Paul wasn't so sure. He imagined himself as this muscular macho guy posed in a position that felt a little effeminate. But there was nothing he could do about it.

Margaret then went over to the wall and turned a switch that extended the rod in Paul's ass. This extension lifted his body upward so that his feet no longer touched the pedestal. It was a little painful and Paul felt very weird.

The next thing Paul felt was the mist of a spray gun, painting his skin. Margaret started from the bottom. The only part of his body that Paul could see was his right hand and he was surprised at the lightness of the paint and how thin his fingers looked. He had imagined a dark tan color to match his macho build. Maybe this was just a primer.

Before Margaret painted Paul's head, she covered his eyes. When she was finished she said, "that's the initial paint job. It'll take about three hours to dry. I'll come back and do the details before I go home this evening." Margaret left the room and she also left the covers on Paul’s eyes. He couldn't talk, move or even see.
 
 


 

For three hours Paul anxiously awaited Margaret's return. She had left the covering on his eyes and he was left blind. His imagination wandered. He hoped that he would be positioned so that he could see Zena. But he didn't remember any men's departments on the floor with lingerie. What would it feel like having someone else dress him? What if that someone else was a woman? Well, he reasoned, if you have a great body you might as well allow others the pleasure of looking at it. He imagined men looking at his mannequin body with envy and women looking at it with lust. Most of all he imagined the time a year from now when he and his perfect body would be reunited with Zena and her perfect body.

Through his eye coverings Paul could tell that the light were turned on. "How ya doin Paul?" It was Margaret. "Sorry I'm a little late, but you'll get used to waiting, you've got a year to wait. We just need to do your face and let everything dry overnight. You'll go on display tomorrow morning."

For the next half hour, Margaret used various paints to make-up Paul's face. Paul didn't quite understand the process. Why did she need to work so much on his face? Maybe she was adding some masculine shadows--or maybe a mustache. A mustache would be good, Paul's light complexion never allowed him to grow much of a mustache. He'd always envied the dark haired guys with heavy mustaches and beards.

After finishing Paul's face, Margaret moved to his chest and added some paint to his nipples. Paul was surprised at how erotic this felt. But he still couldn't understand why she would be painting his nipples.

Margaret then lowered the post that was up Paul's ass. His feet now rested on the ground even though the rod was still firmly implanted in his body. Margaret then turned off the lights and left the room. Her leaving was only momentary as she came back into the dark room only a few seconds later and set something against the wall in front of Paul.

"I'll see you in the morning, you sexy mannequin." Margaret had a mischevious tone to her voice. It was the first time that Paul had heard Margaret talk with any emotion. He was a little surprised. The room was quiet and Paul was all alone.
 
 


 

It was morning. The workroom that Paul was in had no windows, but it did have a skylight. Paul gently awoke in a dreamy early morning place of mind as the warmth of the light from the skylight bathed his body. The warmth felt good, he was naked after all. Momentarily he forgot his circumstance and tried to move. He was immediately reminded of his state of affairs and notice that the night had left him even stiffer.

Past his uplifted right hand and out of the corner of his eye, Paul noticed something new. It was another mannequin, a female mannequin. She was exquisitely beautiful, even though she was bald. As Paul skanned her nude form he was reminded of Zena, the shape and proportions of the two women were almost identical. She was leaning back on her right leg with her left arm perched on her hip. Her left arm was bent at the elbow with her hand lifted up to the level of the upper portion of her breasts. She was wearing a pleasant smile and seemed to be staring at her left hand.

Paul wondered when she had been brought into the room. Paul hadn't noticed any other mannequins when Margaret had left the night before. Then he remembered that Margaret had brought something back into the room after she had initially left and turned the lights out. That must've been when she brought this women into the room. Paul briefly wondered if she, too, was real and just serving as a mannequin to repay a debt.

Paul's eyes were so fixed to look straight ahead that it was a strain to look so long and so intently out of the side of his field of vision. It looked like the female mannequin had a glass plate in front of her. The glass plate produced a shimmer that made it difficult for Paul to fully examine her form.

Then the door opened. It was Margaret and Bob. "She looks just great. Margaret, if you'll dust her off, I'll go get the cart and deliver her to Shelley on the floor." Paul remembered that the girl who helped him in lingerie when he first saw Zena as a mannequin was named Shelley. He wondered if this girl would be put on display with Zena. He wanted to be with Zena so bad, that he was a little envious of this mannequin. He still held out hope that he'd be positioned so that he could see Zena from his field of vision.

In the periphery of his vision, Paul noticed Margaret step behind the girl. This was strange because he thought Margaret had stepped behind him. Bob must've come back into the room. Margaret began dusting off the girl with a red rag. At the same time Paul could feel a dust cloth rubbing across his shoulders. Then the person behind Paul came in front of his and looked him in the face. IT WAS MARGARET!! The same Margaret that was dusting him off was also dusting off the girl. How could this be??

After a moment in front of Paul, Margaret stepped behind him again and repositioned his body so that it was looking straight into the other girl's face. Paul could see Margaret behind the girl and watched as Margaret's hand gently caressed the lower portion of the girl's breast. Simultaneously Paul could feel Margaret's hand on the bottom of his breast. BREAST?!!

"So how 'ya doin' today, Paula?" Margaret interrupted with an emphasis on the final "a" of Paula.

Paul's logical mind reasoned only one conclusion, Margaret and Bob had turned him into a FEMALE mannequin. The female mannequin had only been a reflection of himself in the mirror. The pose that Paul had thought to be a little feminine, actually was VERY feminine. His male right hand that he could see in his field of vision, was actually a thin female hand. He was now seeing what they had done to the rest of his body.

"I hope you like it Paul. You look really great--and sexy too. Most women would die for a bod like yours." Margaret then began explaining the situation as she continued to wipe off Paul--or Paula's--body with the red rag. "I'm sure you're wondering why we turned you into a woman. If you had noticed, we (or most stores for that manner) don't have any male mannequins. They are rarely used any more. Our real need is female mannequins and we have the ability to make your body to fit the part. And the best part is that we've scheduled you to go on display standing next to Zena."

"How's our new girl doing?" Bob asked as he came into the room with a cart. I'm ready to take her out to Shelley.

"She's lookin' pretty good," responded Margaret. "But ya' never know what's going on inside their heads--probably a mixture of shock and anger."

Bob eased Paula onto the cart and tilted her back and out the door. Paula could see only the fluorescent lights above as she was being wheeled through home furnishings, past the escalator and over to lingerie. Once Paula was standing erect again she was looking past her right arm and onto Zena's form. She remained just as she was two days ago--astonishingly beautiful wearing a black strapless bra and black garters. The sight before Paula made her body tingle with erotic sensations, but outside she remained stiff and rigid.

"Mr. Nikeman, how are you this morning?" It was Shelley. Her voice was sweet and caring. She was wearing a dark brown sleeveless dress.

"Fine," replied Bob, taken a little off-guard.

"So this is the final mannequin I asked for. She sure looks real. Her face, the shape of her waist and navel, even her nipples. She looks like she was alive just a minute ago."

She was!, thought Paula.

"So tell me Bob, why DO they make mannequin nipples look so real? No one will see them as long as she's doin' her job."

"Don't ask me," replied Bob as he and Shelley lifted Paula up on the pedestal next to Zena. "I brought you a wig for her, here it is."

Bob left the dark brown wig on the pedestal while Shelley positioned Paula on the left side of the display. As Bob walked back to his office Shelley went back into the department to find some clothes for Paula. Across the aisle in the children's section, Paula could see Zena's reflection on a mirror covered pillar. Next to Zena, Paula could see her own naked form topped haphazardly with the wig.

The next thing Paula knew, Shelley was standing right in front of her. She must've found something for her to wear. Shelley bent down and Paula could feel herself toppling from side to side as Shelley slipped a pair of white bikini panties over Paula's feet. As Shelley stood up, she maneuvered the panties up Paula's legs and tightly into place around Paula's hips.

Shelley then bent down again and slipped a thigh-high white sheer stocking on each of her now-perfect legs. The stockings, being new, were a little bit of a challenge--Paula could tell by the way she continued to wobble back and forth. At one point she thought Shelley was going to let her fall down, face forward, but Shelley caught her in the nick of time. "Crap!" remarked Shelley, "I'd hate to have to send you for repairs on your first day! Bob would kill me, you guys cost so much now adays."

Next Shelley stood up and wrapped something around Paula's waist. Paula wasn't quite sure what she was doing until she got a glimpse of herself in the mirror when Shelley stepped away. It was a white garter belt! Shelley then knelt down and fastened the garters to the top of her hose. As Paula again peeked at herself in the mirror, she was amazed at how feminine and sexy she looked. She was beginning to get a little turned on by looking at HERSELF! This was unreal.

Paula knew that the final piece of clothing was a bra and before she knew it, Shelley slipped the bra up over Paula's arms. Shelley then moved behind Paula and fastened the bra on Paula's back. Paula could see in the mirror that the cups fell lose, away from her body. This was remedied when Shelley came in front of Paula and tightened the straps so that the cups fit very tight.

Shelly’s last work was to work on Paula’s face and hair. For this step Shelley had to step up on the pedestal and look directly into Paula’s face. Paula was astonished that she could feel Shelly’s warm breath on her face and even smell the inviting scent of her perfume. It was the same perfume that Zena sometimes wore and it drove Paula nuts! She was all mixed up. She was highly turned on by all these female scents and yet her own form was of a gorgeous lingerie mannequin. But no matter how turned on she was, she remained stiff and cold on the exterior.

After Shelley was finished, she went back to her job and Paula was left to serve her year as a mannequin to pay-off Zena’s debt. Paula had always enjoyed people watching and a mannequin had the best view of all. Most people pretended that Paula and Zena didn’t even exist, others stopped to gaze at their beauty.

At one point two women in their late 30s or early 40s stopped to look. One of the women was a little overweight. She looked at Paula’s body and said, "I wish I could wear something like this, Steve is always ogling over these outfits in the Victoria’s Secret catalog." Paula tried to imagine what the woman would look like in her outfit and decided she probably would look okay when the other, thinner, woman answered, "Honey, you’d look fine in this outfit. I don’t know what’s keeping you from trying it out. Give Steve a charge tonight, he’ll love it." With that note of encouragement, the two women past Paula and Zena and headed back into the department to try on lingerie.

Later in the day, Paula noticed that Shelley left and Judith came on duty. Judith was an African-American in her late 40s. She was very beautiful. Toward the end of the evening, Judith came by and straightened up the display. In the process she primped Paula and Zena’s hair and used a soft cloth to dust off their shoulders and arms.

After a few weeks, Margaret Frease came by and looked Paula and Zena in the eye and spoke to them as if they could answer back. "How’s it going girls? Haven’ fun?" Margaret then went back and talked with Judith.

Toward the end of the shift, Judith came forward and undressed both girls. Judith did Zena first and it excited Paula to once again gaze on her wonderful body. When Judith undressed Paula, Paula found it to be the most erotic experience she had experienced as a male or female. The nylons gliding off her smooth legs, the release of her bra exposing her breast for all passerby’s—it was wonderful. Looking into the mirror, Paula wondered if she might even be prettier than Zena.

It was another experience in people watching to see reactions to the two nude beauties. Paula could tell that men wanted to stare, but didn’t feel comfortable. The experience was interrupted when Margaret Frease came with a handtruck and carted Zena off toward her office. Paula didn’t know what was happening. She already missed Zena.

After fifteen or so minutes and maintenance man came by with a cart that held an orange metal ladder. Judith came forward and gave him a banner of some sort. The man then unfolded the ladder and proceed to hang the banner from the ceiling. Paula could see in the mirror that it said—

elaS eiregniL launna-imeS

or Semi-Annual Lingerie Sale

The banner was red with white lettering and draped down to the floor in the spot where Zena stood. Paula still stood naked. "Well girl," said Judith as she surprised Paula, "we’ve got to get you dressed." Judith then slipped off Paula’s wig and pulled a white T-shirt over Paula’s head and arms. The arms were a little difficult since Paula was stiff and couldn’t bend. "Girl, they need to make it so we can remove your arms. You’d be a whole lot easier to dress."

When Judith was done, Paula looked in the mirror and found that she was a walking—or standing—advertisement. Across her chest were red letters that read—Semi-Annual Lingerie Sale.

That evening Paula was reminded of Zena’s frustration with a security guard named Gary. Sometime in the middle of the night. Gary (she could read his name tag) came and probed her entire body with special emphasis on her crotch and breasts. He kissed her (yuck!!!) and even unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock. She could feel its stiffness between her legs and as revolting as it was, it did stimulate her. The experience left her confused and frustrated.
 
 


 

About a week later, Paula saw a familiar face out of the corner of her vision. It was Zena! Not just a mannequin Zena, but an alive Zena—or could it be? Had it somehow been a year already?! Zena was walking through the store with Jerry, a classmate of Paul’s in engineering school. Jerry was African-American, tall and slender. Paul had always envied Jerry, he was good looking, athletic and had a natural charm with women. Jerry was just the type of guy that Paul always lost his romantic interests to and as likable as Jerry was he resented him. Zena, or the woman who looked just like Zena was arm-in-arm with Jerry. She stopped in front of Paula and looked up and said directly, "How ‘ya doin’ girl?"

Paula was confused. How could Zena be free so soon? Maybe a year had past quicker than he thought. But she had a hard time believing that logic, the children’s department was still displaying summer wear. It wasn’t even fall yet. The only thing Paula could believe and rely on was that it must not have been Zena, just a woman who looked like Zena.

At the end of that day, Paula’s questions were answered. Again Paula saw Zena, this time she was walking with Margaret Frease. They stopped and stood right in front of Paula. Margaret mumbled to Zena, "do you think you can have Jerry here tomorrow morning?"

Zena answered in low tones, obviously not wanting Judith to hear back at the cash register. "I think so. He talked with me about the letter and his conversation with Bob. He’s planning on a year as a mannequin. I was lucky to find a guy who already had a lot of debt to Davila’s, he was an easy mark."

"You mean you didn’t want to be a mannequin again to lure him in? I thought you enjoyed it," Margaret chuckled.

"Just a little boring for my tastes. I think it better suites Paul here, she—or he—was pretty boring from the start, so the transition might have been an improvement." Zena looked up and smiled at Paula. If a mannequin could’ve cried, Paula would have. Her heart was broken and she realized that the expected year as a mannequin would now be forever. What an awful predicament.

Margaret motioned Judith over. "Judith, tomorrow night you can ready the display for an additional mannequin. We’ve been notified that we’ll have a new mannequin for you first thing the next morning. I’m sure that you’ll especially appreciate that this one is African-American. In the past you’ve brought it to our attention that we’ve not been very diverse in our displays and this will be a first step to make things right."

A big smile came to Judith’s face. "Thank you, for listening. It’ll be nice to have our displays better represent our clientele."

Then Zena spoke, "If the lingerie sale is over tomorrow, why don’t you have them take down this banner and put the new mannequin here with this one"

"That’s a good idea, thank you. I’ll do just that."

With that Judith went back to close out the cash register and Zena and Margaret went back toward the offices. Paula couldn’t believe that Zena hadn’t even said a word to her. She realized that she truly was no longer human. She was only a mannequin, a display piece.
 
 


 

As expected a beautiful African-American female mannequin arrived on schedule. The sale banner was down and Shelley dressed Paula in a silky short pink slip and Jerry (or Geri) in a white lace teddy. The two former classmates had been equally deceived by a woman who would deceive many more. After a month they were taken overnight back to Bob Nikenam’s office where their arms, wrists, waist and a single leg were dismembered to install metal connections so that they could be removed and reattached. This simple operation made them easier to dress and delight Judith who had been frustrated by their solid bodies.

It has now been five years since Zena recruited Paul and Jerry to their new lives. They are still working out of lingerie and Judith remains the department manager with her assistant Shelley. Zena, Bob and Margaret has filled their quota at this particular Davila’s and have moved on to other cities in North America to ply their trade.

Zena is in her early 20s and has a liking for Tex-Mex food. She still has her even tan and her wonderful head of dark brown hair. She is engaging in conversation and will give you a few nights to remember. But you should be cautioned, a relationship with Zena could change you forever!

THE END