Michelle couldn't
believe how fast twenty years had gone by. She really only had memories from
maybe three-quarters of them, but still. She'd lived an ordinary enough life, she supposed, well... as ordinary as life can
get when your mother spends most of her time stiff
as a waxwork figure, mounted on a stand in her room. These past two
years hadn't really been all that ordinary either; instead of heading off to university or getting a job, Michelle had spent the
time ensuring her body was absolutely flawless. Now she turned heads wherever
she went no matter how she was dressed, which was good; mannequins are supposed
to draw people's attentions.
Michelle pondered her curious lineage and the decision that had led her to
where she was. Her father was, in the grand scheme of things, nobody special;
he worked as a visual merchandiser for a department store chain. He had average
looks, a warm personality, and horrid luck with the opposite sex, this last
trait was part of the reason he progressively became infatuated with one of the mannequins he dressed. His lust for the
plastic woman eventually reached a point to where he bought an identical style of dummy
for his home, but over time his lust turned to love, and he began to treat his personal mannequin as a woman instead of an
object. Much to his surprise, the mannequin, whom he had named Kristen, came to life one night under his lips, and the resulting
union caused Michelle's birth.
For the pregnancy and first seven years of Michelle’s life, her mother had been a flesh and blood woman all the time, and had helped
her father raise her as best as she could. Once Michelle turned eight though,
Kristen began changing back into plastic for short periods of time that steadily became longer as Michelle grew older; by
the time she was thirteen her mother was only animated for a few hours a day.
Michelle wasn't angry at her mother though; she understood that being plastic was Kristen's
natural state, and by her eighteenth birthday had begun to feel like maybe it
was going to be hers as well.
She discussed her idea with her parents on that day, and to her surprise both
of them supported it; she had thought her father would be against letting his
little girl go. He was sad she'd be leaving them, but understood it was
something she felt she was born for and approved of her goal, so he helped her
plan her next two years accordingly.
Now, on her twentieth birthday, she was ready. Ready to give up the life she
had known all these years as a living woman and begin her life as a plastic
one. She'd sold herself to an independent department store looking for a
lingerie mannequin, and was looking forward to her first display; she'd scoped
the place out during the sales process and
had noticed that the main display platform in the lingerie section where she requested to be placed had a large mirror right
across from it so she'd be able to see herself “in action”. She was also hoping
to get a little action, as her eventual goal was to follow in her mother's
footsteps and make some lonely guy's or girl's fantasy become reality.
Michelle gazed at herself in the mirror and
smiled. It was a smile born of utter contentment as she saw her gorgeous body
had nearly finished becoming plastic. Only her head was left, and even that was
changing quickly; her smile was becoming
locked in place even as it finished forming. Looking in the mirror she saw her
mannequin form – her true form – for the first time, and knew right away that her decision to take this path was the right one. Her mother stepped into
Michelle’s now limited field of
vision; Kristen's smile was almost an exact
mirror of Michelle's; she gave her transformed daughter a kiss on the cheek. She then picked
up Michelle’s stiffened body and put her in
the box that would deliver her to her new life, wishing her goodbye and good
luck before closing the lid.
* * *
The store's lingerie sales nearly tripled once it acquired their new display mannequin. Something about the life-like fixture gave off such a warm, inviting feeling that just made people stare, and not only out of lust for its impossible figure. The staff had even taken to calling it by the name the manufacturer had given it since she seemed too real to refer to as “it”. Many of them even copped a feel from time to time, with the more daring ones occasionally stealing a quick kiss, though none of them could really explain the attraction; after all, as real as Michelle looked, she was still a mannequin.