I was always something of a geek, yet I never seemed to have a problem drawing the attention of really cute girls. Marcy, my latest girlfriend, was a great example of this. She was way out of my league but was still drawn to me nonetheless. She was very attractive, funny, and above everything else, intelligent and we shared common interests. We hit it off immediately, and before long she was spending more time at my place than at hers.
Our relationship progressed very well for several months until one day she surprised me with a demand out of the blue. “I want you to turn me into a mannequin, just like you did your other girlfriends,” she demanded, with quite a strong tone of seriousness in fact.
“What the…? What are you talking about?” I asked.
“You know better than to play stupid with me. You’ve turned all your old girlfriends into mannequins. You’ve told me you can do it, and you’ve shown them to me,” she insisted. “Most of all, I know I’d make the best one! Don’t you want to see me standing before you, all hard and plastic modeling a sexy swimsuit?”
“I don’t know where this is coming from,” I replied. “I don’t even know where to begin to explain how ridiculous you sound. I’d ask you to think about it, but it’s such a ridiculous idea that you shouldn’t even have to! Since when can people be turned into mannequins? You’re smarter than this, Mar!”
“That’s what I would have thought, but you’ve definitely told me you can do it,” she answered.
“I don’t know what to say, but it’s not possible and I don’t know how you’d think that I of all people could make it possible,” I said. “Probably better that we just forget about this.”
“I suppose,” she responded, albeit grudgingly. “For now. This argument isn’t over.”
I suppose that was a good enough resolution for me. I wasn’t looking forward to the topic coming up again, but at least it bought some time. Time for what, I had no idea.
Things continued somewhat normally after that argument. I could tell it was still eating at her, but I had no explanation for her claims against me so I did my best to avoid the topic. I was able to do so for a couple weeks, until she came at me with it again, this time just after we had gotten back to my house from a shopping errand.
“Robert,” she started. “Remember that thing we talked about a couple weeks ago?”
“What thing?” I asked.
“The mannequin thing,” she answered, sheepishly.
“Oh, please no. I don’t know why you keep bringing this up. I don’t know how to answer you,” I said, trying to sound pleasant but finding it hard not to be annoyed.
“It does sound ridiculous and impossible, I know that,” she said. “I don’t want to argue about it and get mad about it. I can’t even rationally explain why I want you to do it to me, either. But I do know you’re able to do it, so you can at least stop this charade.”
I was at a loss for words. “But…”
“No butts,” she continued. “I know you can do it, and I know how you do it. And you’re going to do it to me or I’ll figure out how to do it myself. Today. Right here, right now.”
She knew she was right - and try as I may to deny it, I knew she was right. In college, a couple of friends and myself had developed a process that could turn a person into a mannequin - one indistinguishable from any that you’d find in a clothing store.
The first thing you need is a volunteer, and once you have that, the first step is to apply a special salve to their skin. This can be on any exposed location on their body. It doesn’t even have to be a lot; in fact, no more than what you can fit on your fingertip is enough to complete the job. You then spread it and rub it into their skin until it disappears, after which they’re primed for about the next five minutes. The next part consists of a special flash bulb. It looks sort of like a camera, but really it’s just a bulb and a battery. When activated, it looks like a basic strobe light, flashing on for only about one half of a second. The special part about it is that it emits a specific frequency of ultraviolet light that immediately reacts with the salve applied earlier.
What happens next enters into the realm of bizarre quantum physics. If you’re familiar with the concept of strange matter, that’s basically what happens. The salve reacts with the volunteer’s flesh, instantly transforming it into fiberglass. All living flesh that contacts this spot is then also converted. After only a few seconds, the runaway reaction ends once no more flesh remains, resulting in the volunteer being fully converted into fiberglass. The fiberglass then becomes inert and safe for anybody to touch just a fraction of a second after the reaction is complete.
Our first couple of volunteers ended up becoming near solid hunks of plastic, but thanks to the help of several more girlfriends (some more willing than others) and other volunteers on campus, we were eventually able to create an intelligent reaction that created painted representations of their faces, turned them into hollow shells, and even figured out how to have joints created.
“OK, you got me,” I finally relented. “I am able to do it. I still don’t know how you even know. I’ve never told you about it.”
“You know I don’t like you holding secrets behind my back,” she responded.
“Well, come on, it’s not like I’m seeing other girls or something like that,” I said, trying to defend myself from this still ridiculous accusation. “Would you have preferred I brought that up on our first date?”
“Well, no, at least not living girls…,” she trailed off. “But I still don’t like it,” she retorted, “and you’re going to be making it up to me.”
“Huh?” I muttered, bewildered.
“Aye ye ye, Bobby. By turning me into a mannequin,” she snapped. “Right now. I’m not waiting any longer, and you know you want me to join the others.”
“I have…” I tried to say.
“Naah…” she stopped me. “I’m going to slip out of these clothes and into that bikini I just bought. You’re going to go get that…stuff…and do what you need to do.”
I fetched the equipment from the basement and when I returned a few minutes later, Marcy was standing in front of the picture window in her bright red new bikini, sexy as ever. When she asked me what I thought of it while we were in the store, I told her I thought the top was way too small for the size of her breasts. Seeing it again in a different light, yes, it was definitely too small, but somehow it worked.
“Are you all set? When and how do you want me to pose?” she asked, with no trace of the combativeness she had shown prior while on this topic.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked. “There’s no going back.”
“So you’re telling me I’ll be sexy and hot forever?” she asked, blushing. “And don’t try telling me you’re not enjoying this too,” she said as she glanced briefly down at my pants with a knowing smirk.
At this point I decided there was no point in hiding it - I was definitely aroused by what was unfolding. Playing into it, I put a nitrile glove on my right hand and squeezed some of the salve onto one of my fingertips. With a slight smile I walked up behind her and rubbed the substance onto her chest just above her cleavage, all while pressing my groin to her butt cheek.
“Oooh, yes, rub it in good,” she moaned.
I moved in front of her and leaned in to give her one last kiss as flesh and blood, being careful to avoid the spot where I had just applied the salve.
“Ok, that’s enough,” she said in an almost sultry tone as she pushed me away. “You need to do what you need to do before this stuff wears off.”
“I can always just reapp…” I said.
“No, we’re doing this now,” she said, cutting me off. “How should I pose?”
“That’s up to you,” I said. “Let me know when you’re ready.”
She moved around a bit before finally deciding on a pose. She stood with weight on her left leg and both arms down at her side with elbows bent slightly behind, which caused her big chest to thrust slightly forward.
“How about this?” she asked.
“That’ll work,” I replied.
“OK, how much longer do you need?” she asked.
“I’m ready any time,” I said.
“I was ready two months ago,” she smirked. “Just give me five seconds, starting…now.”
She immediately looked straight at me with a sultry gaze in her eyes and her mouth slightly agape. After the five seconds passed, I pulled the trigger on the bulb and for a split second the room was awash in light. She would make a slight, almost surprised sounding moan as the transformation began to rock her body; a sound that would be the last that would ever escape those lips.
I wasn’t even looking directly at the bulb, yet it still took a couple of seconds for the effect of the flash to wear off. Once it did, I saw Marcy, still in her pose, standing rigidly at attention but no longer looking directly at me. Even before I inspected her up close, I could tell that she was the best one yet, just as she expected. Her body was now nothing more than smooth, pale plastic. The mere sight of her condition nearly caused me to come in my pants. I looked into her eyes, which had lost their sultry gaze and were now just patches of paint staring directly forward, completely devoid of any emotion or expression. I moved in to kiss her lips; lips which just seconds ago were warm and supple but were now just silent, cold, and painted plastic. For the next few seconds I amused myself with the only sounds she could now make: the chinking sound made by her necklace on her smooth clavicle as I flicked it around, and the satisfying thuds that resulted from the backhand taps on her breasts. I completed my exploration of her new body by reaching down to her crotch, which now bore no womanly resemblance and was just an expanse of smooth, featureless plastic. Rubbing it slightly, I noticed the only remaining evidence that this mannequin was once a living woman - the bikini bottom it was wearing was slightly damp. Clearly she enjoyed living out her fate as much as I did causing it.
Later that evening, I would finally get around to completing her transformation into a proper mannequin. Thanks to her upright pose, I was easily able to carry it down into the basement, whereupon I placed it on a waiting circular piece of plate glass. I fastened its ankle to the short support pole and stood up, coming in close to once again inspect my latest creation. While outward appearances would seem to indicate that this was an ordinary lifeless mannequin, an object born in a factory and which had only ever been a mannequin, I knew its truth. Trapped inside, inhabiting its very form, remained the consciousness of a human being, in this case one which had gone by the name of Marcy Danielson. One which had made the conscious decision to leave the life she had known for twenty-six years and venture into an unfamiliar realm, ceding control over her body and her fate forever.
Though I knew I didn’t have to in order for her to hear me, I leaned in towards her right ear anyway. “Well, Marcy, it’s complete. I gave you what you wanted; to be turned into a mannequin. And yeah, you were right. Well, kind of, just not the way you thought. But I did want it all along. That’s why I made my advance in the first place. From the moment I first laid eyes on you, I knew we had to reach this moment together. You see, you thought you wanted this too, but you didn’t. At least not on your own. You didn’t choose this. I chose it for you. No, I never directly told you it was possible or that you’d be the seventh former love interest in my collection. But I won’t deny subjecting you to hypnosis while you were asleep next to me, either. So maybe I tricked you into it, or maybe you genuinely did want it. Either way, it is what it is and you’re now what you are. You were a beautiful woman, Marcy, and you’re still beautiful, and always will be, but now, to the whole rest of the world, you’re just a simple object. A possession. My possession, to do with as I choose. You’re now just a hollow lump of plastic, something with no intrinsic value, but which has value only because it’s in the form of a very sexy woman. Hopefully you’ll still manage to enjoy it though, because there’s no going back now. No choice to do anything besides simply exist, stare towards whatever you’re faced towards, and wear whatever anybody chooses to put on you. Heck, even if it were possible to reanimate you, I would theoretically have to be able to bring any inanimate object to life, and I don’t want to think of the ethical ramifications of that. It’s not your fault really, you didn’t do anything wrong besides being statuesque and beautiful. I’ll probably sell you off someday, but until then you will be very well taken care of. After all, though I did value you as a person, I do value you more as a collectible.”