The smells of the beauty shop where all around as I sat anxious and frustrated waiting for my monthly hair cut appointment. That spring day stands out in mind my as one of extreme frustration. I was frustrated to the extent that I wanted to do something drastic, but instead I was probably going to have my nails done. Gayle, my stylist, was a little behind as she usually was. I really wasn’t in the mood for her trite conversation today. My hand slipped down to the coffee table and picked up a ragged issue of some women’s fashion magazine that I’d never heard of.
“Giving In To Your Man’s Sexual Fetishes” was one of the headlines on the cover. Yeah, that’s just what I need. I flipped to the contents page. The article was listed under the “New Millennium Marriages” section, page 167. I thumbed through the myriad of cosmetics ads to get to page 167. I was half way through the article when Gayle called for me, but held on to the magazine until I was finished. I even went to the store that evening and purchased my own copy of the magazine, just to read the article in detail.
The article was written by a psychologist and was quite informative. It mentioned the concept of a sexual fetish was something that for the most part was unique to men. In fact nearly all men have some sort of sexual fetish that exhibits itself at some level within their thinking. The article gave a long list of common fetishes. Most of them were things I had heard of, like black bras, silk clothing or feet. The article was an “eye opener” for me.
I’m a woman and to my knowledge I don’t have any sexual fetishes. However, I am married to a man and earlier that year I discovered the extent of his sexual fetish. I confronted him with my discovery and the resulting argument and bad feelings haven’t been good. We’ve not spoken as much and I’ve not been sure what to do. The article at least gave me some information I needed to try to understand what’s going on.
The article’s advice, in a nutshell, was for the woman to, within reason, have an open mind and try to go along with the man’s fetish. The admonishment was that the end result of making him more aroused might also make you, the woman, more aroused. Been there, done that was my initial thought.
A couple of testimonials helped make the case. One woman’s husband had a strong fetish toward feet. It seemed he always wanted to lick and massage her feet. At first this struck her as weird, but she tried to have an open mind and eventually found her feet to be an entrée into great foreplay. Another’s boyfriend liked the woman to be in the dominant position and wanted her to wear leather and hold a whip. Again she had an open mind. At first she found it very uncomfortable and a little embarrassing, but like the first woman, eventually found it to be fun and satisfying.
The article did point out that most women never become fully accustomed to their men’s usually sexual preferences. Throughout the course of my manicure, my mind pondered my situation. Could I be open-minded? What if it made our marriage and sex life even better? Would that make it all worthwhile? After all, I did love him and he was very good to me. But I had tried, and I wondered if I was capable of being THAT open.
I thought back to the first time that I met Matt. I was working as a clerk in Catherine’s, the women’s clothing store that my mother owned. The store was in a small strip mall in Marin County, California and it was my mom’s pride and joy. She started the store in 1960, when my dad was still alive. I worked in the store all through college at Berkeley. Two years after graduation my mother left the store to me and moved back to Wisconsin to live with her sister.
Running the store at 25 was a big responsibility, but I had some of my mother’s good business sense and I enjoy women’s fashions. When my mother was still running the store, she hired a nice looking young cabinetmaker to build some custom shelving along the south wall of the store. That young man was Matt. He flirted with me the entire time. We were married a year after Mom left.
From my perspective, the first five years of our marriage was very normal. We each had good careers and our sex life was great. We argued a little over children, but not much else. I wanted children, but Matt wasn’t sure. Matt was a perfectionist in both his work and around the house. His cabinets were pieces of art. He had difficulty imagining the cluttered house that comes with kids.
Knowing what I know now, there were a few parts of Matt’s behavior that were hints about his fetish. As with all couples, we dressed and showered at the same time each morning. I always wore a dress to the shop, therefore I always wore pantyhose. My morning routine involved spending a few minutes standing in front of the closet contemplating what to wear while wearing only pantyhose and a bra.
Usually I was the first up and I could always tell that Matt was perking up in bed as soon as I started pulling on my pantyhose. Mmmmm, was the sound from his lips as I snapped the elastic waistband into place. I could feel his stare on my back, as I looked at my row of clothes hanging in the closet. I worked hard to keep my body in shape and Matt’s morning stares were a nice reward. I enjoyed being the star of the show.
Sometimes it was all that he could do not to get up and ravage me on the spot. Many times he couldn’t hold back as we laid back in bed and the pantyhose came off!
I had always thought that sex was better in the morning because of those situations. I began to understand that the main ingredient to better sex was me wearing my pantyhose.
Matt confided that it turned him on to see me, or probably any woman, wearing pantyhose. Eventually Matt began buying me really nice pantyhose on my birthday and most special occasions. Although he gave me all styles and colors, black seemed to be his favorite.
Pantyhose was the first fetish. Then came another.
On our fifth wedding anniversary, Matt took me to dinner at a great bistro up in St. Helena in the Napa Valley. We came back home that night and Matt told me he had a surprise. To get the surprise he told me he had to blindfold me. Once blindfolded, I could tell that he was leading me into our bedroom.
Soft music was playing over the stereo. The music was similar to the Muzac that we play at the store. I stood in the middle of the room while Matt started reading a story in a narrator’s voice.
Once upon a time there was a lovely store mannequin who longed to be a real person. She longed for her dresser to kiss her and bring her to life.
“Peg,” Matt whispered, “You’re the mannequin. Pose like a mannequin.”
“What?”
“It’s a story silly, you’re the mannequin. Do what the story says.”
“Okay” And I posed like a mannequin.
And handsome young window dresser was asked by the evil storeowner to undress the mannequin and put some new clothes on her. The dresser obeyed and began to undress the mannequin. She stayed perfectly still as he took off all of her clothes.
The room was quiet while Matt took off my blouse, skirt and bra. Obviously he left my pantyhose for last. When he finally removed the pantyhose is was with great care to caress every part of my waist, legs and crotch. I was dying inside, I hadn’t been this turned on since our wedding night. Matt’s warm hands on my wet crotch intensified the erotic nature of this night.
The storeowner came into the room and thought the dresser was spending too much time dressing the mannequin. She also thought that the mannequin had a smile on its face and thus was enjoying being dressed too much. As a punishment, she decreed that the mannequin must be dressed in scanty underwear for the entire world to see. She ordered the dresser to be finished soon or to be fired!
I then knew that my surprise was some new lingerie! What a creative way to give it to me too. In the next minutes I remained blindfolded and stood perfectly still as Matt slowly slipped nylon stockings on each of my legs. I then felt his arms around my waist with a garter belt. Once the garters were attached to the stockings he finished me off with a bra that surprisingly fit quite well.
Once the storeowner was out of the room, the dresser approached the mannequin and gently kissed her delicate lips. At that moment she came to life, fell in love with the dresser and they lived happily ever after.
The kiss was passionate. I was sweating all over with pleasure. Matt had his pants down and had penetrated deep in me before I even looked at the color of the outfit I was wearing. It was red of course. Red for love. Red for passion. It was one of the greatest lovemaking evenings of our marriage.
The evening was so sexy, so romantic and so creative that I wanted to tell everyone about it. But it was also a little racy and I was a little embarrassed. I did tell my best friend Lynette. She was totally amazed and envious. In her mind her husband was totally uncreative in bed.
Occasionally Matt wanted to repeat the mannequin fantasy, but I wanted the act to be a little more spontaneous. Plus, it was a great idea once, but the mystery was gone if we did it every week.
One night I couldn’t sleep and decided to browse the Internet. Matt was fast asleep and didn’t even know I was at the PC in the next room. That week there had been a cover story in one of the newsmagazines about kids and the Internet. As I browsed the article I noticed a section on how to check up on the family’s Internet activities. Matt spent a lot of time on the Internet and I had never had a reason to check-up on him. But since he and I were the only ones using this PC, looking at the history files and cookie addresses would definitely be checking up.
A check of the Internet history files quickly confirmed my suspicion of Matt’s mannequin fetish and also clued me in to the extent of his fascination with this subject.
I was in awe as I clicked through a web page devoted to living mannequins. The author, Kimy, was a living mannequin herself and even gave hints on how to pose and pass for a real mannequin.
On Matt’s birthday I decided to give him a surprise. I called over at his shop and left a message for him to pick me up at the store at 6:30 p.m. It was a Monday night, the store at 6:00 and I had everyone gone by 6:10.
I had partially prepared myself that morning by shaving off all of my body hair except my head and face. At 6:10 I took off all my clothes and followed Kimy, the Living Mannequin’s advice by using gray rubber bands around my wrists, shoulders, waist and a single upper thigh to mimic a the points where a mannequin’s body parts could be removed. I used make-up the cover of my skin to cover any freckles on my body and my nipples and areola. I then topped it off with a rubdown with an oil that would give my body its mannequin-like sheen. I then slipped on a pair of sheer black pantyhose and black platform shoes, and picked out a dress that buttoned up the front.
In the middle of the store was a square pedestal that had been the home of Gina and Tina, our only mannequins. Gina got her name because she bore a striking resemblance to a girl I knew in high school named Gina. Tina’s name came from one of our sales reps that wore so much makeup, we used to joke that she looked like a mannequin. The rhyming names were a total coincidence. Early that day I had asked Heather, one of my sales clerks to remove Gina’s clothes, disassemble her and take her to the storage room, leaving her glass base and stand on the pedestal.
Clad only in the pantyhose and shoes, I positioned myself standing on the glass base with the metal rod pressing against one of my buns. The foot high pedestal gave me a different view of the store and the store’s air-conditioning made my nipples pert. I actually felt a little bit like a mannequin. I unbuttoned the dress, a short red number with oversize black buttons and a black border around the hem and collar.
With the dress on I practiced some different mannequin poses that I found in a catalog from a mannequin company that came in the mail just that day. I tried holding a pose and was astonished at how quiet the store was. I could hear the clock on the counter ticking and could hear the sound of a train a few miles away. It felt like I was breathing heavier than usual—was I nervous? With each breath, my unsupported breasts moved up and down on the fabric of the dress.
After a few moments of practicing poses, I heard the back door open. I had my first short anxiety attack wondering whether Matt would find my note. Then I suddenly had a bigger anxiety attach worrying over whether Matt might find this silly—after all we weren’t at home in our bedroom. In my mind this was way out there in the “kinky” zone. What if I was wrong and mannequins didn’t turn on Matt. Maybe he just accidentally found the mannequin sites.
I could feel my heart beating when I heard Matt’s footsteps behind me entering the store from the back room. Then a REAL anxiety attack. A person walked right past me and over to the cash register. It wasn’t Matt!! It was Heather, my afternoon sales girl! What was she doing here? OhmyGod! How embarassing! How in the hell am I going to explain this? Maybe if I stay stiff she won’t notice me. No way, I look too real. I’ve got to start thinking of a reason for why I’m—
“Hey Heather, how’s it going?” It was Matt’s voice from the back of the store. Shit! Now Matt’s here. Now what? I’ve got to stay stiff. My heart is beating so loud they’ll hear me!
“Not so good, I got nearly home and realized that I forgot my fucking purse here. Piss me off, I’m late for my dance class. See ya.” Heather breezed right by me and never looked up. How could she have missed me? Thank God she missed me!
I heard the back door shut and all was quiet behind me. Is Matt still here? Did he follow her out? Then I heard the sound of Matt opening my note. Thank God I sealed it in an envelope! If not Heather would’ve have read it.
Matt stood right behind me and read the note out loud:
Matt,I had to run to the post office before it closes.
Our big sale starts tomorrow and I only had time to change one of the mannequins..
Could you help me out by undressing the mannequin with the brown hair so we can get home earlier?
Thanks soooo much.
Hugs and Kisses,
Peg
Matt paused. “Hmmm. Well I’m always ready to undress mannequins for you dear.” He started to walk around in front of me. For the first time I could see him in the periphery of my vision. I blankly stared straight ahead and tried not to breathe heavily.
I don’t think Matt recognized that it was me until he stepped up on the pedestal. “Wow, this is . . . er, I mean you are one cute mannequin. And very realistic too.” I couldn’t help but breathe heavy as Matt gently smoothed out the wrinkles on my dress. Here this is your fantasy and I’m the one excited.
“Well I guess I’m supposed to undress you. Hope you don’t get too embarrassed.” Matt started with the top button on the dress and then stepped back. “Boy I wish I had a camera.” Camera! I’m not sure I want you taking pictures of me like this. But there is one back in my desk. It’s a Polaroid, we use it for taking pictures of the displays for our files. Matt, don’t you remember me showing you the photo album a few weeks ago?
“I think I remember one back in your desk. Excuse me while I go look.”
Matt was back in a few minutes with the camera. He rebuttoned my top button and step back and took two pictures. After setting the camera down on the floor he stepped up and went back to work unbuttoning my dress. I could feel the cool air-conditioned air infiltrate my bare skin. Matt positioned my dress so that it was just covering my nipples and stepped back and took a few more photos. I’ll have to admit that the camera heightened my anxiety in an exciting sort of way.
Back on the pedestal, Matt ran his fingers through my hair, down my neck and onto my shoulders underneath the dress. He pushed the dress over and off my shoulders. It fell to the floor with a hush. I was topless and very turned-on. My nipples were hard as rocks.
“Wow, the lines on your shoulders look real—what a nice touch. Oh and you’ve got them on your wrists too. I didn’t notice. And your nipples, they still look pretty real even though you’ve got makeup on them.” Honey, at this point I don’t care about the nipples, just kiss me so I can move again and let’s make love!! In our mannequin play at home, I always agreed not to move until Matt kissed me on the lips. He got a little angry once when I moved too soon.
I went wild inside when Matt used his two index fingers to slowly draw circles around each of my breasts. Each circle was smaller than the last until he reached the peak of each breast. He then softly kisses each nipple. Oh my God! I don’t know if I can stand it any more. Kiss me on the LIPS!
“Hey Matt I’m back.” Shit what was that! It’s that damn Heather. What the hell is she doing back?
“Huh!” was Matt’s startled response. My eyes were fixed straight ahead, but if I could’ve looked down I bet I would’ve seen a giant hard-on between Matt’s legs. “W-What are you doing here?” Yeah, what ARE you doing here?
“I forgot my health club membership card. I’m an airhead today!” Heather was as perky as ever. “So ya undressing the mannequins for Peggy?” Please God, don’t let her notice me. I’ll never hear the end of it.
“Yeah.” Matt tried to look relaxed and maybe even bored. “This one’s base is loose, I’ve got to get some tools out of the back.” That’s right Matt, distract her.
Matt walked toward the back door and Heather followed. “Gotta go. Have a good night, don’t touch anything ya shouldn’t.”
Shit, what a bad break! I hope she didn’t notice me. I sure stayed stiff.
With Heather gone, Matt came back. “Good job honey, I don’t think she realized it was you.”
Matt went back to work gliding his fingers over my body. I thought the mood was lost, but it came back in a few minutes when Matt ran his hands inside the waist of my pantyhose and pulled them down over my buns. He ran his fingers around my crotch in the same way he did my breasts.
Okay. Kiss me. Let’s fuck. Eventually he did just that and we did just that! Right there on the pedestal in the middle of my store. It was great. Even though the sun had gone down and the lights were out, a passerby could’ve seen the whole thing.
Matt said it was the best birthday present of his entire life. It was pretty good for me too, however, I wasn’t that anxious to do it again. Lying in bed that night, we laughed about Heather’s intrusion. We both wondered if she might have really seen me but didn’t let on. But we still laughed at the predicament. I asked Matt about his fascination with mannequins and he acknowledged that he experienced some sort of arousal every time he was around a mannequin.
So now, in addition to the pantyhose fetish, I knew Matt also had a mannequin fetish.
There was one more fetish I still needed to learn about. It ended up a combination of the two.
In the month after Matt’s birthday, things were pretty quiet. Matt and I were both busy with work and it seemed like we seldom were together to talk. Matt mentioned the evening a couple of times. He was very appreciative that I was willing to actively share in his fantasy life. I was happy to do it. It was actually a lot of fun, but I didn’t particularly want to do it again. Too much work and preparation, I think.
By the second month, things started getting a little bizarre. Matt’s work load was less and he spent more time at home alone. I had asked if he would mind building a new cabinet for the hosiery section of the store in his spare time and he really got into the project. He drew up some extremely elaborate drawings that included two pantyhose forms on the top, with their feet sticking up in the air.
After a week on the project, Matt took a break went down to L.A. to see his brother and I was home alone. I was surfing the Internet on Saturday night and looked at the history. I new this was intrusive and wrong, but my curiosity was too strong to resist. I noticed that he was still looking at some of the mannequin sites. I browsed through them and tried to understand his fantasies. I tried to think of what would be a good surprise for his next birthday.
One of the sites was nothing but stories about women being turned into mannequins. I read many of the stories and was surprised at the creativity in which the victims were made into mannequins. Some of the stories were very well written. However, I was initially shocked by stories written by some of the writers. In their stories, women were not only turned into mannequins, but the resulting form was cut in half so that the lower half could model pantyhose. It seemed like one particular author seemed to have a real preference for the resulting pantyhose form to be displayed upside down with the feet sticking up in the air. This caught me as strange.
Then, almost by accident, I discovered a hidden directory on our computer. The directory was titled “stories” and included four files with nondescript names. I opened one of the files and found that it contained one of the stories about three women that were turned into pantyhose forms. I opened the others and found all of the stories by the author I thought to be strange. I went back to the web and compared the stories we had on file with the ones posted to the web. The ones on our computer were obviously the originals. The only conclusion could be that Matt was the strange author.
I went to bed and didn’t sleep all night. Matt was a kind person and a great husband. I knew he loved me and would never intentionally hurt me. I almost wished I hadn’t made my discovery. My idea of a romantic evening was dinner, a movie and time together. I had real difficulty seeing how Matt’s infatuation with mannequins and pantyhose forms played into our relationship. Maybe it didn’t.
In the wee hours of the morning, I remembered a time a few years ago when Matt came by to pick me up at the shop. The shop was closed for the day and I was finishing up a couple of things in the back room. When I went back into the main store to tell Matt I was ready to go, I noticed that he was standing by one of the store’s old pantyhose forms caressing its butt. I asked him what the hell he was doing. Nothing, nothing, was the quick response and a shy look. I also remember that we had great sex that night. Mannequins seemed to prime him for sex with me.
The next morning I woke up thinking that I should probably bring this issue up with my therapist and see if she had any thoughts. For all I knew this could be very common. However, I think I was a little to embarrassed to bring it up with her. I decided to sit down and re-read Matt’s stories. Here came the next in what would soon be a series of frequent surprises.
One of the stories was about a woman who owns a small shop. Her name was Patty. She employs a greedy young woman named Heidi as her assistant. Although Heidi seemed skatter-brained and innocent, she’s really a witch. To make a long story short, she eventually uses her powers to turn Patty into a pantyhose form and takes over the store. As a pantyhose form Patty retains her consciousness and is taunted by Heidi everytime she changes her pantyhose. As I re-read the story it hit me like a brick—Peggy-Patty; Heather, Heidi. The names were too similar, I was Patty and Heather was Heidi! Matt had written a story based on my store! At one point early in the story, the author described the Patty character’s looks and personality. Patty’s description fit me to the tee! I was Patty!
Even though Matt had changed the names and had given no information that could ever be linked to my store, or me, I felt a little violated. I had a mini-crisis about what to do next. I cried. Matt wasn’t due back until evening and I wondered how I would act on his return.
I sat in front of the computer and looked at some of the mannequin sites that Matt had bookmarked. One of the sites featured photos of a woman who apparently posed like a mannequin for her husband and then allowed him to post her photos on the website. I looked at her pictures and tried to imagine what was going on in her mind. In a couple of the photo sets she was dressed only in her underwear. She looked happy. Some people had taken her photos and manipulated them to make her look more like a mannequin. In one photo she was on a mannequin stand and her arms were removed and sitting on the floor.
I was amazed to see that this girl actually gave an email address where you could give her feedback on her photos. Her name was May and “Still May” was her email name. In an impulse I sent her an email confiding in her about Matt’s fantasies and asking what her feelings were about having her pictures on the Internet. I didn’t really expect a reply, but the act of writing my feelings to this girl was therapeutic.
After a brief breakfast I got dressed and thought I would drive down to the mall. Matt wasn’t due back until late afternoon, so I had time to kill. Plus, I needed to think about how I would respond to Matt once I saw him. On the way out the door I decided to check my email one more time. May replied! I took a deep breath and opened her mail.
Hi Peggy,I’m glad you wrote and understand your situation. Many women would run away screaming if they found their husband had a fetish like this. I tried to understand his feelings and share in his fantasies in a healthy way. It has been nothing but positive for me and our marriage. In fact it has been a lot of fun. Feel free to contact me anytime with any questions or just to talk.
May
Wow! I somehow felt relieved. As I walked through the mall, I was in more of a positive mood. I tried to take May’s advice and think of ways in which I could share his fetish. I always enjoyed window-shopping at the mall. It helped me keep in touch with the fashion that would work in my own store and I got valuable ideas on how to display my goods.
My window-shopping walk brought me up to a Victoria’s Secret store. The front window was lined with mannequin forms wearing the latest bras and panties. Behind the forms were large banners featuring beautiful models wearing the same bras and panties. I wondered whether a new sexy bra and panty set might be a nice welcome home gift for Matt.
I’m only a 34B and a while back I bought a white Wonderbra that really seemed light Matt’s jets everytime I had it on. Maybe I could take Matt’s eyes off the bottom half of my body and focus his attention on my boobs. I hated trying on bras, so this effort was really a labor of love that I hoped Matt would appreciate. After a half hour of trying on a half dozen cleavage enhancing bras, I settled on three. Two were more of an everyday style and one was black lacy and very sexy. I got a little turned on just looking at myself in the mirror! It made me look terrific but it wasn’t that comfortable—my boobs felt like they were plastered into the perfect position.
I went to the cash register to pay and my eye caught a poster over a display of pantyhose. These guys could use a good pantyhose form!, I giggled to myself. The pantyhose was sheer black with a built in set of French cut black panties. I stepped out of line to pick up a pair. Hmmmm. They need a good pantyhose form. . . An idea was starting to germinate in my mind.
By the time I got back home, it was only minute before Matt was supposed to get back. I straightened up our bedroom and lit all the candles on our dresser and nightstand. I put some smooth jazz on the CD and pulled out the black bra and pantyhose. I put on my robe and ran into our office room and quickly wrote Matt a note:
Matt,Welcome Home!
While you were gone I got a new pantyhose form for the cabinet you’re building. Hope you like it. Can you undress it for me?
Luv,
Peg
I had stopped by the store and brought home a store fixtures catalog that featured a number of pantyhose forms. I tried to lay on the bed with my feet straight up in the air like the pantyhose forms from Matt’s stories, but I just couldn’t hold the pose. Instead I laid back on the bed and posed like one of the reclining ones with one leg straight and the other bent at the knee. I then pulled a sheet over the upper half of my body so that it would look like a pantyhose form was lying on our bed.
A few seconds later, almost on queue, I heard the front door open and Matt come in. “Hello, honey I’m home!” No response. “Hmmmm.” I heard him pick up the note. He sat down his bag and I heard his steps down the hall to our room.
“What a welcome home gift! I should go to L.A. more often.” Matt then spent the most of a half hour caressing the bottom half of my body. He was obviously very turned on and I was too. I kept waiting for him to move the sheet off my upper half so he could see my bra. Instead he pulled down my panties and brought me to complete orgasm with his tougue. Wow!!
I held my pose, as I always did. I didn’t say a word or utter a groan. That’s the way Matt liked it. When he was finished, Matt went into the bathroom. Except for hearing the water running, I didn’t know what he was doing until he came back. He had dampened a wash cloth with warm water and proceeded to gently wash my crotch. Any moment I was expecting him to take off the sheet and give me a kiss that would allow me to move again. But it didn’t happen. He then laid back in our bedroom chair and masturbated! I’m serious, he just sat there and jacked-off.
I was ticked-off and didn’t wait for the kiss. “What the hell are you doing? Why didn’t you kiss me?”
“I wasn’t ready yet, sorry.” He went into the bathroom and started cleaning himself up. “By the way that was great, dear.”
“Great for YOU!” I put on my robe and haven’t worn the pantyhose or the black bra again.
This was just too strange for me.
This had all happened the night before I read the magazine article in the beauty shop. First May and then the magazine are telling me to loosen up.
What should I do next?