It was the first day of my summer vacation, although I had been looking forward to this day for nine long months, now that it is here I am bored to death. Most of my friends have left me alone this summer, either off with their parents on vacation or away with some relative.
All three of my closest friends come from broken homes, their parents getting divorced early in life. Mark is with his Mom in France, Steve is away with his big brother in Washington, and Kevin is visiting his dad in Montana. Kevin’s parents are separated living their own lives, and he gets shuffled to one or the other every summer. This year it is his Dad. Steve and Mark are also from divorced families, but full custody had been given to their Moms.
My Mom offered to send me to camp, but I know our finances are not that good, so I declined the offer. She works two jobs to make a home for us, so I can’t ask her to sacrifice more just so I have somewhere to go for the summer. My older sister Nevada is off on her own, trying to make her boutique profitable.
She learned from Mom how to sew, and has been making her own designs for several years now. She also helps support Mom and me, as her finances allow, some months there is no help, others she manages to contribute heavily. I know it stresses her trying to make the boutique profitable and also help Mom.
She lives at home with us, although because of the boutique she only is home in the evening, sleeping in bed, then back at work the next day. I am very appreciative of both of them, a lot of my friends having it much worse. At least, I have two people that care for me and freely show that love to me in many ways.
My dad had left Mom shortly after I was born, she has never heard a word from him, although her lawyer has tried to find him for quite some time, to try and get some child support for Mom. The lawyer is a female friend of Mom’s and does the legal work for free. Once she gets a lead on his whereabouts he quickly vanishes, so the likelihood of some child support is nil.
I should discuss the names my sister and I have been given, they are far from being mainstream, and when Mom told us how they originated, that only made it worse. Before they were married Mom and Dad used to love to camp, spending days living with nature. At the time, they lived in northern California and spent their weekends camping in the mountains that were situated to the east of their home. The mountains were part of the Sierra Nevada range, so you can guess where the inspiration came from. My sister is the first born, so she got the name Nevada. It caused her quite a bit of grief; Nevada is hardly a female’s name, in fact, it is rarely chosen for a name of either sex.
When I came along, again what they envisioned and common sense never shared the same body. I got the name Sierra, neither a boy’s or girl’s name, but the sound of it more along the feminine lines. For both of us there is no logical nickname for either of these monikers, so we suffered through school, At least we didn’t have people forgetting our names, their uniqueness making them hard to forget.
I was sitting in the living room that evening, trying to watch some TV, but in reality, I was just staring at the screen. Nevada is working on some alterations on a dress that she had sold, trying to get the hem straight. I often looked her way, watching what she is doing, and being thankful for my sister’s help with Mom and me. She looked my way several times and then when I sighed for the umpteenth time that night she asked me if I wanted to help. I gave her a funny look but figured she is just making fun of my utter boredom.
She asked again, then laid down her work and walked over to me. She grabbed my hand and had me stand up. She removed my t-shirt, then slipped the dress over my head. I just watched as she adjusted the dress on my body, then removed it and told me to stand still. I went into mannequin mode and froze in place. She knows I do this often, so she left me returning a few minutes later with a bra and two breast forms. The bra is slipped on me then secured in back. She often had to move my arm or hand to get me in the right position.
The dress is slipped back on my body, and she readjusts it on my now feminine figure. After the dress is on she moves my body to get me in the right position adjusts my arms and tilts my head back and up some. My back is straightened, and then she drops to the floor to finish redoing the hem of the dress. I just stand there motionless as she does her work. After she has it pinned she removes it and slips another dress over my head. This goes on for quite some time, my only movements when she readjusts my arms or hands to get me into the next dress.
Then she pulls a long evening gown from the garment bag she had brought home, holds it up against me, and then runs to her bedroom. I can hear her going through her closet, then a squeal, and shortly she is back with a pair of heels in her hand. She lifts each leg a few inches off the floor, then slides a knee-high stocking up my leg, that followed by the high heeled shoe. Then she puts the foot down and does the other foot in the same manner. She knew I would have difficulty with the heels, so she leaned against me so I could use her for support until I felt I could stand on my own. With both heels on, she slipped the dress on me, adjusted it and then started pinning the hem.
I remained quiet if you are impersonating a mannequin you have to remain silent, so I did. I have been fascinated with mannequins and somewhat robots since the time I saw a person impersonate one at the local mall. The store was running a special promotion, and if you could get the person to break character, you would win a prize. The individual was quite good, but often broke out in laughter to the antics being performed in front of him, I think it was deliberate so some of the prizes could be awarded. After the prizes were given the mannequin remained in character for the rest of the evening, even as he was being removed from the window.
Since that one time occurrence, I have whiled away my spare time practicing to be a mannequin. I know, not much cranial matter up there if the life of a mannequin is my sole purpose in life. Somehow it fascinated me, holding the position for hours, keeping breathing to a low unnoticed breath here and there. I think I have mastered it pretty well, the three hours Sis used me for a mannequin I never made a noise or movement.
Somewhere during the evening, Mom had plopped herself down on the sofa, slightly out of my sight. She apparently had watched the goings on, finally speaking to Sis.
“As good as he is, you ought to take him into the shop; he can be your backroom mannequin, and you can use him for alterations during the day. Since that old dress form is almost falling apart, this new one should be much better. Besides, he will be out from under foot, and busy, so he can't moan and groan as much about being bored.”
I could see Sis and the wheels are turning in her mind. She stands right in front of me, wiggles her eyebrows and asks if I am interested. To start with she can’t pay me much, but she will see that I get fed every day, and maybe it will work out to be something more. I am determined not to break character, Sis smiled and then kissed me on the ear.
She knew that bothered me, a sister of our Mother always did that, and I often ran right to the bathroom to wash the ear and surrounding area to get the cooties off of me. The goosebumps were raising up; my ear is twitching demanding some kind of relief. I broke down running from the room to the bathroom, telling her that I would do it if she never kissed me there again. Of course, Mom and sis were laughing and giggling at my expense, but I eventually returned to the living room, so Sis could remove the dress. She complimented me on my ability to run in heels; she had never seen me run that fast before. I shook my head, the thought of what she had done to me still making me shiver.
After I had returned to my male self, she made the offer again, wanting to know if I would accept the job. I agreed to help her Monday through Saturday but wanted at least one day for myself. She has done so much for Mom and me; there is no way that I could ever refuse her anything she might ask of me. I returned to my room; I guess I will now get plenty of practice in my new role as a mannequin for her shop.
I got up earlier the next day so that I could go in with her. She normally left the house at seven each morning, using the couple of hours before she opened, to finish the alterations for the dresses the customers would pick up during the day. While she is sewing, I wandered around the shop, looking at all of the beautiful dresses she had to offer. She had a raised dais featuring a couple of her creations just hanging from a hanger suspended from the ceiling. I removed one of the dresses, then found the bag with the bra and forms used on me last night. I went to one of her dressing rooms stripped out of my clothes and got dressed in my new selection.
It took me a while; the bra did not cooperate, but the dress slid over my head with ease, but I couldn’t get the zipper closed. I found the heels that she used last night at the bottom of the bag, slipped on the knee-highs and then the heels. The dress is longer than most dresses, the hem coming below my knees, barely covering my hose. I shook out my hair after removing the scrunchie, then assumed a position on the dais. I slowed down my breathing, looking straight ahead, focusing on an object in her front window. If I focused on something, I am able to keep the surrounding talk and movement from breaking my concentration.
Sis came out later looking for me, not realizing she had a new display in her store. Before I could focus on what she is doing, she opened the store and put the open sign in the window. I froze, this is not what I had in mind; I just wanted to see what it would be like to be in front of people, visible through the front glass window of the store. To my chagrin, several customers came walking in and started shopping. They looked around the store then walked over to look at the dress that I am wearing. Sis came over to help, then realized where her brother had disappeared to. She reached behind my back and zipped up the dress; I could feel the dress getting tighter as the zipper rose up my back. When the customers were to my side I got a big smile from her, but no help in getting out of the situation. I had placed myself in this predicament all by myself, so had no one to blame but myself.
The customers were there to pick up a dress that they had bought yesterday but wanted to see if anything else might strike their fancy. Then several more ladies walked in, striding right up to me, even touching the dress to see what type of material was used. In the next hour, the store became almost full. Nevada is busy ringing up sales and getting dresses that they had bought yesterday for them. More than once they were all huddled around me, talking about the dress and even trying it on for themselves. I am really glad she had more than one of this dress; I would have died if she had to take my dress off so a customer could try it on.
I wondered if I was stuck here for the whole day, the steady stream of customers never seeming to end. At one time there are just a few customers in the store, Sis approaches with a water bottle equipped with a tube to spray water into the mouth. When the customers were looking away, she gives me a squirt, then a few minutes later another squirt. In between she is applying lipstick to my mouth and some mascara to my eyes. After the last squirt, she tells me that is much better, then walks over to the counter to ring up a lady’s purchases.
The whole day she is never without a customer in the store. From previous conversations, this is unheard of for her boutique. Several times during the day as she is wandering the store to check on her customers she changed a few things making me much more visible to the people in the mall. Every time she makes a change it seems like the traffic increased.
My feet are killing me, the heels and the lack of movement making my legs ache, especially my calves. Otherwise, I am holding up rather well; I just hope that the sales Sis had gotten today has helped her in her business. As the day progressed I am really glad that I didn’t have anything to eat or drink this morning that would have made my life much more miserable. I could drink a pond dry at the moment, but the little she gave my earlier had helped a lot to make the desire bearable.
I am also glad there is no clock visible to me, watching the time crawl by, would have made me quite nervous, making my day only that much more unbearable. Finally, she moved to the window and turned the sign to closed. There were still a few customers in the store, so it was about thirty minutes later when the last customer actually left the store. Sis left to go to the back returning with a dolly and a sheet. She through the sheet over me pushed the dolly up next to me, then leaned me back against the back of it.
She pushed me to the back of the store, then parked the dolly, removed the sheet and attacked me kissing me everywhere except my ear thankfully. As soon as I moved some she verbally thanked me, she had done a whole month’s worth of business in one day, the dress I am wearing she had sold out of including the one I am wearing now. I tried to relax all of my joints that long without moving made everything stiff and sore. She repeated her mantra several times; she is so happy, for once things are looking up for her.
I presume I have a job now, a steady job considering what happened today. She helped me undress, then gave me some sweats to wear home. The light green sweats are in a feminine color, but they are comfortable. She put my hair back up in a ponytail, then paused as she called Mom. She relayed the good news, then told her that she is taking me out to dinner since we had been so busy neither one of us had time for any lunch.
We drove to a restaurant that I had been to once before when I got dragged along with Mom as she visited the boutique. I did remember their burgers, big, juicy and full of flavor. The toppings they offered huge, a whole plate loaded with choices for you to pick what you wanted. As I nibbled on the burger, she wanted to know how I did it, the whole day with no movement. I told her it is sometimes hard, but knowing I was helping you in the business did keep my mind positive and relaxed. She asked if I could do it every day like I did today, maybe not for as many hours, but at least six days a week.
“I think I can handle it, but I will have to be better prepared. Not going to the bathroom is going to be a problem, me missing breakfast the only thing that got me through today. Then keeping myself upright without some type of support is also a problem, especially if I do it every day. I know later in the day it is everything I could do to keep from falling over, my legs and feet so unstable from standing all day. Let me think about it for a couple of days and see if I can think of something to help. How about for the next couple of days I only do it for half a day until I get things worked out.”
She eagerly agreed, then we finished our burgers and left for home. Of course, Mom had to hear the whole story, her taking me into her arms and squeezing the life out of me, showed how much she appreciated the effort on my part. Half way through the retelling of the story I headed off to bed, the days happenings taking their toll on me. I don’t remember taking off my clothes, but when I had to use the restroom later in the night, I was only wearing my shorts. I dreamed of being in a store window, even Sis changing my outfit while I was still in the window, with people watching her do it.
I duplicated my role the next morning, only a different dress. Sis did find me a different pair of heels to wear, the little difference in height helping with the calves of my legs. We had to start early before anybody would enter the mall, so by a quarter till eight I was again on display. When we had first got there, we moved the dais closer to the window, making me more obvious to passersby. By nine-thirty she had opened the doors, a line waiting to come in and shop. My outfit is touched more today, even my bare skin a couple of times, the display seemed to attract people to get close and inspect it. She is just as busy as yesterday, never a slack time. She was able to check on me a couple of times, even give me a shot of water without others noticing what she is doing. She asked if I could make it for a while more I blinked my eyes in response. What she ended up doing is closing two hours earlier, something I was ecstatic about.
Since every time I was on display she is inundated with customers, we decided that I would not do it tomorrow, to allow me to figure out some things to make it less of an ordeal. She had enough customers returning to pick up their altered purchase tomorrow to guarantee a successful day. We stayed late that night as I wore the dresses and she made the alterations. She had made the changes to twenty-three dresses that she had sold the last two days when she finished up the sewing in the morning she would be caught up.
That is another discussion we had that evening, with all of this business she is going to have to have some help, so we had to figure if the help would know about me. We both agreed that the fewer people we let in on the secret, the better off we would be. We got home, and I made straight for my bed, the day's activities along with the previous day had taken all of my strength away.
When we got to the store, the next day we put something else on display on the dais, and she opened the shop. We had several early shoppers, every one of them wanting to know where the new mannequin is at. I listened through the curtain that separated the front and back of the shop to their questions and their fascination with me as a mannequin. More than one responded how life like it was; they could almost picture themselves in the dress by just looking at the display. I was sitting at her sewing machine in the back with a pad trying to jot down some ideas. Her back room is not the biggest, and every inch of space is used in a most efficient manner.
The business is off a little today, without me as a mannequin. I made some notes on what is needed to make it more realistic and to make it more comfortable for me. Number one requirement is some type of support to lean on or better yet to hold me in an upright position. Then I thought of her needing to change clothes on me; the support can’t interfere with that task. I had to either have a pole that came up through my legs to support me somehow or I had to hang from a beam or rack so that the dress could be slid up from under me, over my hips and then situated around my chest.
The next consideration is that I needed to be a little more feminine, both in looks and shape. I wanted the perception of everybody to be that I was a female in all regards. We had lucked out so far; I think the novelty of it kept some people from seeing through the deception. That would require Nevada’s input since she is the expert in those fields.
The bathroom question also has to be figured out or at least changing my eating and drinking habits to minimize any need to use the restroom. The dinner out the first night almost caused a problem the next day when I had to void that residue. I had a couple of ideas, but they weren’t anything I wanted to deal with. I had looked around her storage area, trying to find some display or apparatus to give me some ideas. I stared at her dress form, the pole going up the center of the form supporting the top. That would work if I could find a way to anchor it to my body.
I went to her computer and scanned the internet for similar poles and display stands. I found plenty of dress forms, but they offered no means of supporting me. No luck until I hit on a bondage and restraint site showing a similar stand with a butt plug mounted on a pole that can be adjusted up or down. It looked uncomfortable, but it did handle all the other requirements of support and accessibility. From an economy standpoint, it is quite inexpensive; the mannequin stands from display companies costing twice what this stand cost. I wrote the information down but didn’t have much hope for it being a solution for the problem. When Nevada closed the shop down that evening, we talked about my list, especially me being more feminine and realistic.
Her salon that she uses every once in a while does transformations on males, the ones she has seen quite realistic and believable. She called them and asked a lot of questions. We ended up driving over there so they could look at me and make appropriate recommendations. The salon is very opulent; the stylists appear like they have just stepped off the fashion runway. The customers all appear to be female, but as we later learned they were all male at the time of our arrival. We got prices, both of us surprised at how reasonable they were. They recommended the starter package, basic body molding, hair removal, and hair styling. Then it is suggested that they apply semi-permanent makeup, lasting for several weeks and of course long fingernails in a bright color. The hair style could be made more resilient with a permanent and a finishing spray that would keep the style in place for several days.
If I became a regular customer using the services of the salon once a week, I would receive a forty percent discount on all services making it a real deal. Then we got around to discussing my need for some special solutions for my role as a mannequin. We had decided not to tell them what I was doing specifically, but asking if they had a solution to the problem. I told the stylist that I needed a way to handle bodily functions without going to the bathroom. I thought sure that would throw her, but she never batted an eyelash.
For some of their other specialty customers, they had a false vagina that glued on with a special insert for the anus. My penis would fit into a sleeve hid under the vagina skin that could be emptied into a bag that could be hidden in several different areas of the crotch. It is glued in, so there is no chance of it coming loose. The other bodily waste is handled through a tube inserted up through the anus, with taking one pill a day the stool is kept liquid and is easily slid through the tube to the same bag as the urine. Nevada asked the price of this appliance and is floored when the tech tells her it is only two hundred and fifty dollars. I asked if the anus is reduced in size due to this tube but she assures me that it can handle a regular sized dildo with no problem. My face is bright red, and I am looking down at the ground. Nevada is looking at me trying to figure why I had asked that question. Her mind working overtime trying to figure out why that would need to be asked.
The tech left us for a few minutes so we could talk it over, but Nevada decided that this is something we needed to do, and the sooner, the better. When the stylist returned she made an appointment for me the next day, Nevada paying her in advance for all the services. I think that was to ensure that I didn’t change my mind before my appointment. Sis would drop me off on her way to the boutique, then pick me up after the store closed. They had told us it would take approximately eight hours to complete the tasks. When the tech is going over the services, she ordered I didn’t hear that the starter package had been changed to the deluxe package, a small change that would affect me quite a bit. I was setup as a regular customer and the discount had been applied to all of the services. The bill for all of the changes would be less than five hundred dollars.
On the way home, Nevada told me that her increase in business due to my actions had easily covered the extra expense that this would entail. She figured that by the end of the year she could have all of Mom’s debt paid back, leaving her debt free including paying off the mortgage. That made me happy, some of my efforts finally making a difference in Mom’s life.
I tried to delay the changes scheduled for the next day, hoping to find something that might work without being so drastic. Nevada wanted to make sure that we took advantage of this interest in a mannequin before it faded away or someone else started doing it. So the next morning I am dropped off and within a few minutes I am naked, and my body hair is being removed. I was never very hairy, a little fuzz on my legs, my underarms, and a small patch on my chest was all that was there. The cream they applied to my body took care of that, leaving my skin velvety smooth and hair free.
My eyebrows were handled the same way, completely removed, since they were going to use the semi-permanent makeup to create high arched brows suitable for a female mannequin. Some hard plastic breast forms were glued to my chest right above the nipple. A machine is brought in and hooked up to my glued on forms. The machine starts and the cups started sucking on my chest, the extra skin and tissue being sucked into the cups as the machine drones on. After a short time, the steady pull from the vacuum changes to a pulsating pull, cycling on then off. My legs are spread, then attached to stirrups on either side of the table I am laying on. The tech works on my crotch, taking an appliance from a box and attaching it to pertinent places. I feel my penis inserted into something, then a liquid applied to the inside of the tube, as my apparatus is placed in the correct position.
Then I tense up as my anus is lubricated with another cream, then all feeling from down there ceases as something is shoved up inside me. I can’t feel what is exactly being done, just a feeling of fullness in my rear. A bag with connecting tubes is attached to my upper thigh. I presume the collection bag for my wastes.
The tech checks my breasts; the cups are now about half full then moves me and the machine to a chair at a sink. My hair is shampooed and conditioned then a towel is wrapped around it. The chair is set up, the tech combing through my hair and putting it into sections. Another tech comes in with things for a manicure and soon my hands are soaking in a tub of solution. While they are soaking, my toenails are filed, then painted with a clear coat, followed by three coats of bright red polish. Each coat is dried separately under a UV light before the next coat is added. Finally, a high shine topcoat is applied and once again put under the UV light. I am amazed at my transformation so far, the few glimpses I have gotten of my body are definitely female.
My fingernails are next, the cuticle pushed back, then the nail is filed into a neat oval. She reaches into a box and pulls out some nail extensions and lays them on the table. They are quite long, almost an inch past the tips of my own nails. She matches the back of the extension to each individual nail so that they fit perfectly. Glue is added to each nail and to my fingernail then pushed on and held for a few minutes to assure attachment. When she has completed each hand, under the UV light to set. When the hand comes out from under the light, the color of the extension has changed, now looking more like my natural nail color.
A base coat, three coats of color, then a topcoat, each set with the UV light before the next coat. My hands suddenly are so elegant, the longer nails making my hands look more slender and dainty. The extensions are also making it more difficult to do anything, for one thing, I can no longer make a fist, the longer nails preventing it.
I had been so concerned about what is being done to my nails that I had forgotten my hair, looking up I discovered half of my hair already on perm rods, the paper peeking out from the curlers. Twenty minutes later all of my hair is in the curlers, and the tech is applying the perm solution to the curlers. The obligatory band of cotton around my head to keep the perm solution off my face and neck. I know when Sis had gotten a perm in the past, it has been months before the curls had relaxed, allowing for a more normal hairdo, I am sure I will suffer the same fate.
The feeling is beginning to return to my rear, the fullness still there, though. Once I had been released from the boob machine, I was subjected to an inspection of my new appliance, the tech taking some liquid and sealing the seams where it came into contact with my skin. That is also done to whatever has been shoved up my rear opening; I am sure that removing it would be very difficult if not impossible.
I can handle the changes as long as I forget how life-changing they really are. Several times tears came to my eyes, I will have to portray a female for many months, the changes not allowing me to revert to the masculine gender. Thinking of helping Sis and how it will benefit Mom do make things better, but I still feel a bit perturbed at the overall loss of my male gender. Although the machine has been unhooked from my new breasts, the cups are still firmly attached, lack of any empty space in the cup, a sign of how successful the process was. I definitely will be considered well-endowed now, my new mammaries even larger than my sisters.
The permanent is finished, rinsed with plain water then the neutralizer is applied. Left on for fifteen minutes it too is rinsed out; the perm curlers removed leaving me with tons of squiggly curls all over my head. Then my hair is set on larger magnetic rollers, each roller pinned in place. I am placed under a dryer, the cups still on my breasts, and letting the dryer set the curl in my hair. Thirty minutes later, I am pronounced done, as the rollers are removed big springy curls are left in their wake.
My ears are pierced next, a laser used to make the holes, so there would be no healing time involved. Long dangly crystalline stones intermixed with curly gold wires make for an eye-catching earring, the ends of them swaying against my neck from time to time. It is definitely a new feeling as the earrings sway with every movement of my head. Along with the earrings I received two bracelets, both of them in a similar design to the earrings, they were secured around my wrists; and then the clasp is glued shut. The same for the necklace that is placed around my neck, if fitting fairly snugly, definitely not loose enough to slide over my head. Again I should have asked, but if I didn’t ask about some of the other things done to me, why should I ask about the jewelry that can’t be removed?
The forms will dissolve eventually disappearing after a few days, the two shots, one in each breast, to make the breasts appear more normal. I started to ask about the reason, but maybe what I don’t know will make life easier. All of this is definitely out of my comfort zone, in fact for the last hour, my mind has shut down, if I don’t think about it and acknowledge it has happened it can’t be real. I know, don’t I wish. The breasts starting to bounce around on my chest are quite real, the weight pulling down on my shoulders. I wonder if Sis’s breasts feel this heavy to her. Then to my surprise, the area around the nipple is treated with a stain to make my nipples more prominent and female in looks.
The chair is tilted back, and they started on my makeup. The crèam again to remove my beard, then a second application after the first to make it permanent. The eyebrows have already been dealt with so now my face is a blank canvas for their makeup. A concealer is used to hide some of my blemishes and areas of different skin color. Then a foundation is smoothed out over my face and down my neck. They are very careful where they apply it and how it is blended, making sure to remove any mistakes quickly before the makeup sets.
My eyelashes are the next target, adding longer eyelashes to my eyelids, the new lashes quite a bit longer than the originals. Each lash is glued on separately, over two hundred added to my eyelids. As the glue is drying the tech slips some contact lenses into my eyes, causing my whole world to become fussy. Before I can say anything, she tells me they are ones my sister wants me to wear; they will make everything blurry, but I should be still able to recognize large objects. Anyone looking at your eyes will see the orbs of a mannequin, a non-human entity used as a dress model. With my new long nails, I knew I would not be able to remove them without someone doing it for me.
She continued with my eyes adding several different types of product to my eyelids and lashes. The one she used to coat my already long lashes made them heavier than they were. A pen is also used on my eyelid, making a line across my eyelid. The lips are lined the same way; then she used a brush to fill in the color on the actual lip. Since I couldn’t see now, all of this is what I felt as she worked on my face. When she is finished a spray is applied all over my face, her telling me to close my eyes while she coated my face with the product.
Apparently I am finished, the chair is straightened back up, and my hair is brushed out and then sprayed with another spray to keep the style intact. Then I am left there in the chair for quite some time. Another lady comes and sits beside me, introducing herself as Francine. We talked for a while her wanting to know what I am up to, the things that have been done to me intriguing everyone at the salon. I told her I was helping my sister as a model for her boutique, the changes needed so I can perform the task. She moved in closer, suggesting that might be what I am telling everybody, but she knew better.
“If I had to make an educated guess, you are going to be a living mannequin for the shop, dressed in her designs, and acting just like a lifeless mannequin.” I couldn’t see her face, but I knew mine must have revealed surprise at her accurate guess. She confided in me that one of her stylists had been to the shop, seen me in a dress and had come back and told her of her findings. Francine told me that she had visited the shop yesterday to see what all the commotion is about, my impersonation of a mannequin quite good in her opinion.
The conversation is interrupted as Sis came in, attacking me, thrilled at what they had accomplished with me. Francine introduced herself and their voices faded as they stepped away from me. I am sure I am the main topic of conversation, but couldn’t hear what they were saying, although I could hear some voices talking. Since my vision is so blurred due to the contacts, I stayed out of the conversation, not being able to see where I am going. I lifted one hand to my eye, maybe I could get the contacts out, but when I stabbed myself with my nail, I knew getting them out myself is not going to happen.
I just sat there in the styling chair waiting for Sis to return. I couldn’t even see what I looked like, although from what I felt I probably looked quite feminine. Finally, Sis returned, helped me up and led me to her car. I can see shadows, large objects, although the image is blurred. She helps me sit in the car, then put a sheet around me. Then the realization that she had led me to her car while I was stark naked made the connection in my mind. I protested, but Sis dismissed it, mannequins don’t require clothes, and by the way you look, you are nothing but a mannequin.
I remained quiet for the rest of the trip home but felt very uneasy as to how things were going. She parked outside a building; then I realized she had taken me to the shop instead of home. The familiar smell of her shop wafted up to my nose. Sis always kept her shop smelling like lilacs, a favorite scent of hers. At least it was closed, so I would have some privacy.
I was led inside, and she had me step up onto a dais as we had used for the first trial. I felt something between my legs, but whatever it was is at a lower level than my knees. “I want to try setting up a display so I can get some pictures with you, after the transformation.” She added some stockings to my legs than some heels; the stockings were loose around my thighs; I presume she is going to attach them to something. A corset is slipped around my body, then she hooks the busk together and then tightens it some. It is in firm contact with my skin, but not uncomfortable. The stockings are attached to the corset at the garters, now taught on my legs.
She tells me that she has found an item that fits in my mouth, holding a small amount of water that can be released slowly to take care of my thirst. She has me open my mouth, then tells me to keep it open as she positions the appliance correctly. It fills my mouth completely, and she has to move it in and out as she gets my tongue in the right place.
She inserts something in my mouth, a metal object that is inserted into the gag. She turns it a few turns, and suddenly my mouth is fuller, the device expanding in my mouth, trapping my tongue and keeping my lips slightly open. I can’t make any noise other than a grunt in my throat. The metal object is removed, I feel it as it is slipping out of my mouth. “If you wiggle your tongue slightly, a drop or two of water will be released in your mouth.” I try it, a small drop of moisture appears in my mouth. The wiggling of my tongue is very minimal, the device she has inserted in my mouth stopping most any movement of my tongue or jaws.
As I am trying to handle this latest restriction on my body she tells me to stand upright, keeping my back straight, as she grabs the corset laces and tightens them severally over the next few minutes. I can hardly breathe, the breaths I am taking are very shallow and brief. Finally, I feel the laces tied off behind my back; I can’t bend any at all, trapped in this rigid position because of the corsets unrelenting grasp on my body. This corset runs from just under my breasts to my upper thighs, although I suspect in the back it does not come as low, since I can feel coolness on the back of my upper thighs.
She bends down some, right behind me and moves the bag that is attached to my upper thigh. I feel her pulling on the tube that keeps me waste free and moving them around. Then she applies some lubrication to my new rear hole and slides something up and down in it. Then something is pushed up into me, quite far from the feeling in my butt. I hear her tightening something then pushes up some more, I am now standing almost on my toes. The tightening noise again and I am then left alone. I can’t move any, the corset and whatever she has up inside of me keeping me totally immobile.
I felt very full, but even wiggling a little seems impossible. My toes are touching through the heels, but I think my actual heel is slightly off the floor. I can’t get any leverage this way, even with my hands-free there is nothing I can reach or push up on to relieve my situation. I think back to the bondage apparatus I had seen on the internet and wonder if she had found where I had looked at it. From the feel of it, I think she has managed to find one somehow and got me impaled on it. She returned after a short absence and started dressing me in one of her outfits. I figure with all that has been done to me; I ought to look pretty good in the clothes now.
She grabbed my hand and started moving the dais I am on, presumably to the sales floor. I am panicking, but there is absolutely nothing I can do about it. No voice, limited eyesight, and unable to remove myself from the display. Totally screwed in more than one way. I try to hang on to her arm as she apparently has the display where she wants it, but she pulled it away easily. I am stuck, totally stuck and there is no way out. She comes up and plays with my eyes spraying a liquid in my eyes. I can see, the liquid eliminating the fuzziness. She has propped a mirror in front of me, the image that I am looking at is so feminine, a males wet dream.
She pulls a chair up in front of me and stares at me. I look around and see that I am right in front of the store, very visible to anybody passing by. She has moved a few racks of clothes and redid the front display area. They are two arms coming from behind me, one on each side of my body. They are shoulder high and have a clamp at the end of each arm. I have a feeling they are for me, somehow the project I had started out on has morphed into something else entirely.
“I see you have put two and two together and figured out you are in deep do-do. I am appreciative of all you have done for me and are doing for me. It has changed all of the existing scenarios quite dramatically. Mom is also quite happy with the changes, she for once in her life can relax a little, knowing that things are being handled in a positive way. The changes at the salon have exceeded anybody’s idea of how pretty you might turn out to be. Francine, in particular, is quite impressed with your new look. All of this has changed your participation in this little charade.”
“After I had dropped you off at the salon, I returned to the shop and sent some emails to some of my suppliers. Imagine my surprise when I discovered your inquiry for a base for your impersonation. They were checking to see if you wanted to order it now or wait for a while. I called them, finding out a little more about the base with extending pole they offered. I found out they had a local branch, that stocked the item, so I drove over there. I was shown the item and also the heavier deluxe version that they were starting to carry, but not listed on the internet yet. I thought it would be perfect, so I bought one, while it is being rung up I noticed some different types of gags on one wall, so I described what I needed, and they just happened to have what I needed. I bought that also, plus a couple of more items that will be a surprise later.”
“I had to hurry back to the shop since I had some customers coming to pick up dresses. Mom had called and told me she was going to come by, and I asked her to bring your laptop, wondering what I might find on said machine. Mom ended up staying for three hours helping me, the business really picking up. Everybody asked about where my new mannequin was at; I made an excuse that she is being renovated, a true fact, everybody going to come by in the next few days to see how you turned out. After I had closed the shop, I checked your computer and found several files that had attempted to be hidden so prying eyes couldn’t find them. Remember that I made an A in computer sciences, so it took me all of fifteen minutes to access the files. What I found surprised me to no end. I now know why you were willing to do this since it is a fantasy of yours. Everything you are experiencing and will experience in the next year or two was listed in those files.”
“As Francine and I were talking at the salon when I came to pick you up, she guessed that something like that is deep in your psyche since all through the day you never did protest anything that was done to you, even though most of the treatments were not discussed beforehand. Francine has offered us a business deal that is quite attractive. Since she has a large number of salons across the country, and her customers are all likely to purchase one of my dresses at one time or another, she wants me to close the shop, and you and I tour the salons doing two-day shows. Of course, you will be the mannequin wearing each dress during the two-day show.”
“She will furnish us a bus to make the trip in comfort and a driver to help set up and do the driving. All she wants is a small commission on the sale; the show will add to her traffic making it lucrative for her to host the shows. I will make the alterations and mail the dress back to the customer. Since I will not have the expense of the boutique, I will make a lot more profit on each dress.”
“While we are doing each show, she is going to have some photos done featuring yourself, to be used in her local advertising. Since the photo will feature each individual salon, it will be more effective than a blanket type of advertising.”
“Now I want you to take some time and think about this deal. When I ask for your decision later if you blink your eyes twice that will inform me of your approval of this deal and situations. Think about it carefully; I plan to keep you as a mannequin for the majority of the time and as you are now, unable to free yourself and stuck as you are. There will be some time for you to get away from it, from time to time, but essentially your future life will be as a mannequin. If this is the path we choose to follow, I will give notice on the store in the morning, and we will start touring the salons within the month. I am leaving you for a while to think; I should be back in an hour or two with some nourishment for you.”
“Now give me your hands and I will attach them, so you needn’t worry about being able to use them. I will turn the store lights off, leaving only the display lights on, they have a photography show going on tonight at the mall, so there should be plenty of people in the mall until eleven PM, I am sure your display will attract a lot of attention, everybody wanting to get a picture of the beautiful mannequin. Give me a kiss, and I will see you later.” After she had attached the clamps to my wrists, she gave me a cheek kiss, then turned off the lights leaving me spotlighted by the display lights.
My mind is so confused, everything that I had fantasies about is happening to me, for real, although not being to stop it or change the outcome is a serious consideration. I stopped thinking, I am a captive of my sister, as her mannequin for the foreseeable future, but it is one of my fondest fantasies, could I live this life from now on? I knew she would take care of me like she has taken care of both Mom and me for the last several years, so that is not a concern. The thing that scared me the most is I have no control over my life, my whole being subject to what she wants for me.
I decided to blink twice when she got back, that one action, sealing my fate forever. I wonder how long she wants to do this, for a few years or for a decade. I won’t be asking the question since my speech is silenced. I wiggled my tongue a little, in fact, the limited movement all I could accomplish with the gag in place. A large drop of water appeared on my tongue, and I swallowed it promptly, helping with my thirst. To my surprise my vision returned to the fuzziness I am used to, apparently the liquid clears the lenses, then when the liquid evaporates the fuzziness returns.
She returned later, when she showed up she took one look at the mall outside the store front and smiled. It is packed with admirers taking pictures and watching me. She opened the doors and allowed everybody to enter and get closer for the pictures. I noticed a woman eyeing the merchandise, well a fuzzy female, but sis told them the shop is not open tonight, this is just so everybody can take pictures. They all wanted to know where she got such a lifelike mannequin at, it almost looks like it is alive. Sis smiled, “it is a special design and quite expensive, the detail used in making the mannequin very time consuming and specialized.”
An hour later she shooed everybody out, most of the females telling her they will be back tomorrow, to shop for some fashions and to look at the mannequin again. She turned out the lights on the display, leaving only a night lite appearing from near the register. She went to the back and retrieved some food that she had bought. I could hear her blender run then stop; she often made smoothies for us to nibble on in the afternoon. She returned to the front with the blender cup full, and I watched as she poured it into the water bottle she had used previously. She screwed on the lid and approached me. She took the tube that came out from the bottle and placed it in my mouth between my partially open jaws. I could feel it ease into the top of my throat; she squeezed, and the liquid ran down my throat.
The taste is wonderful, although the liquid missed most of my mouth, I could feel some of it run forward in my mouth before it also slipped down my throat. She told me that it had all of the vitamins and minerals needed to support my body, plus some additives to ensure that my waste remained liquid. It would be necessary for her to feed me slowly in the future since the liquid would not remain in my digestive tract long enough. Tonight she would set me up with a baby bottle that I could suck on gradually to get my nourishment.
My eyes went wide, tonight, she said tonight; I would not be set free, and I had to drink from a baby bottle. She explained in a calm and determined tone of voice. “You are a mannequin now, not a person or my brother. You have no requirements other than to be taken care of. That I will do, but only as a mannequin. You will be restrained or unable to move for the foreseeable future. If I chose to leave you naked, that is how you will remain, you are not a person anymore, just my dear lovely mannequin. For me to enjoy and control.”
I closed my eyes, thinking this is too good to be true, my fantasies suddenly happening to me and I have no control over them. No control at all, what I have dreamed about for most of my time on Earth. Someone controlling everything I do, what I wear, where I reside, a fantasy world that is actually real now. She left me alone for a while, letting all she had told me sink in.
About an hour later she returned and inserted the tool into my mouthpiece and released the gag. She pulled it out, gave me another shot of water and told me to swirl it around my mouth. Since you haven’t used your voice for a while, you need to speak softly, and slowly. This is your one and only chance to convey to me how much you want this, or demand to be released and everything return to normal. Think about it for a few minutes; I want the truth, not what you think I want to hear.
I moved my tongue around my mouth, exercising my jaw a little, then in a faint whisper asked her to keep me this way. She smiled, “I wanted to be sure, other people looking in on this scenario would think I am taking advantage of you, making you a prisoner, keeping you subdued and unable to free yourself.”
In a barely audible voice, I suggested that she take some video of me, dressed this way and let me state to the camera that this is what I want for the rest of my life. I love being of help, but also being unable to stop what is being done to me.
“Every three to four days you will spend a day as a normal female, no bondage, no restraints, no gag, just a young female doing things that a normal female would do. That way you will get some exercise, allow your joints to relax a little and be able to use your voice. Then back into mannequin mode for another stint. We will try to do things together that day, go to movies, a restaurant, a little sightseeing, maybe some shopping, but doing things together. I think you will find that the short respite will make you time as a mannequin more interesting and enjoyable. The best part is I get to share my life with my new sister.”
Such a dream come true and I get to live it.
She wheeled the dais around so I could look behind me to see a wooden box, with a foam liner inside that appeared to be molded to my bodies curves. “That is your shipping crate when we travel that is where you will reside to make sure nothing happens to you in transit. It has a clear plastic lid, so you can be seen and a bag hidden in the base of your stand to handle all your waste. That is also where you will sleep at night, your baby bottle in your lips to feed on. The box is designed to be used standing up, the front cover holding you in snuggly and securely. The top portion of the box can be removed so that your dais and attached pole can be moved where we need you.”
“Only during your salon time will you be off your dais, the rest of the time you will be impaled on your pole for all to see. We have modified the dais with more restraints for when we are moving you, and of course, we have added wheels to make moving you around easier.”
Francine and I have decided on a few other changes to make your transformation a little more realistic, number one change is to have your makeup made permanent. That cuts down on maintenance of the mannequin, but we will keep your hair long and permanently curled, after all, it’s a woman’s crowning glory. For a few specialty shows we are going to attend, your nipples and your pussy lips are to be pierced, making you more erotic and sensual. There will be a bondage show or two, you being used to show off some of the latest innovations in bondage attire. I know you will enjoy those shows immensely.
One more chance to change your mind, or back to being a mannequin, your choice. I blinked my eyes twice and she reinserted the mouthpiece and using the tool made it secure. I took a breath and smiled, back to my dream world.
The back of the box was brought up and attached to the dais, using a couple of pins. Now I am standing up with three sides of me covered. The clear top would complete the box. There are projections inside of the frame of the box that fit around me assuring a perfect fit in the box and unable to move any. A tube from a baby bottle is inserted in my mouth through the small hole in the gag and the plastic cover is placed over me, locking me in place. I can suck on the baby bottle a little, a slow drip of nourishment floating into my mouth and throat. I close my eyes, my heaven on earth is right here, and I am experiencing it. I drifted off to sleep, standing up in a box, nursing a baby bottle unable to escape, but not wanting to if I could.
All my life this fetish has occupied a part of me. It came together more when I saw the performer at the mall, but even in school I wanted to be restrained somehow, the chance for any of that to happen never materialized. I once took medieval history for the sole purpose to read and study about dungeons and what went on there. For a while, I was taken with the mummies in ancient Egypt, the idea of being wrapped up, totally captivating. After the entertainer’s visit to the mall, I saw a more realistic way to enjoy my fetish and started practicing my skills.
Sis woke me the next morning when she removed the plastic cover from my box. She leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. “Did you sleep well, Sierra?” I simply blinked my eyes, a mannequin cannot talk or move. The tube that furnished me nourishment is removed and Sis changed my bag for waste products in the bottom of the dais. My box is unpinned at the base from its bottom and the box itself is pulled away. I am left standing on the base, as she moves the arms holding my wrists back to the normal position.
The dais is moved to the sales floor, then positioned in the front display. She adjusts the rod impaling me, taking it in and out a few times to make sure I am aware of it, then up a little higher and tightens it off. I am now on my toes, my heels off the base of the dais. I hope she corrects this, it is very uncomfortable. It is still early, I can’t see anybody in the mall yet. Then to my horror, she starts removing my clothes until I am naked.
I know that I am supposed to be an object, not any living being, but being totally naked in the front of the store sure messes with the mind. I am cleaned up using a washcloth and a bucket of water. Believe me she misses no areas of my body, taking extra time around my new erotic areas. I feel each caress of my breasts and shiver when she runs the washcloth down my vaginal slit. This goes on for way too long, in my opinion, but other than turning red in embarrassment there is nothing I can do. I am stuck on the pole and the gag has stopped any type of verbal communication.
She whispers in my ear, that my skin color has become rosier this morning, it must be the lights. Maybe she is a little sadistic, I am beginning to wonder. I am slowly dressed again, she seeming to take an inordinate amount of time on each piece. The smile she is sporting makes me believe she is having way too much fun with this, I wonder what the future will be like if it is like this now.
I can’t imagine anything being added to this situation, even a couple of things done to me were not in my original fantasy. I am not complaining, but I doubt that anything more could be utilized in this scenario.
It appears that Nevada has been busy, the dress that she slides over my head is new, and I have never seen it before. It fits me very snugly, from my bust to my knees. The skirt especially tight on my legs. I know it would be very difficult to walk in this dress, but since I am a mannequin, that is not a concern for me. Several times that morning she changes my outfit, all of them requiring me naked in between my outfits. I can’t see my nipples, but they feel hard and pointy, her dressing me out in public really affecting me.
When she closes up the shop, she leaves me out front in view of the mall windows. I hear a lot of commotion in the back, then being rolled to the back on the dais. The transport box is placed around me, then pinned to the dais. My arm rests are lowered and the clear plastic cover is placed and secured.
Then the whole box is moved outside the store to a waiting bus. I am moved to a side door, the door opens and my box is slid onto a lift. I quickly find myself being raised into the bus, then the box is turned around and the door closes behind me. Nevada and another lady come aboard and secure my box to the side of the bus. The lady takes the driver’s seat and drives away.
Nevada sits in a couple of seats right across the aisle from me, as least I think it is her. My blurry vision is with me all the time, but my other senses are more acute now since my vision and speech is nonexistent. The drive takes quite a while, when we pull into a parking lot. The driver sets the brake, I can hear the air locks engage. The box straps are released, the box is turned around and the lift puts me back on the ground.
I am wheeled into a building, I am guessing the salon where I was transformed since the smell is the same. The dolly is put in the middle of the salon, and my cover is removed. The back part of the box is removed and I can feel the air around me. Nevada comes up to me and squirts some liquid into my eyes and I can see. Next to Nevada is Francine smiling at me, while hiding a small smirk.
Well look what we have here, our new one woman show ready to start her tour. Let’s give her the once over so she will look her best as she tours the salons. Nevada removes me from the pole, then after I regain my balance and mobility I am led to one of the stations. I am seated in the chair, leaned back and a tech starts on my makeup. She is consulting a chart of what goes where, and applying the color to my face. I feel the liquid warm a little. As the liquid seeps into my pores the color will remain permanent, actually staining the skin. Touch ups are only needed once a year on most skin types. Permanent makeup, any vestige of me as a male is now being erased. Surprisingly it didn’t take her too long, three hours and my face is done. Unfortunately my eyes had become fuzzy again so I could not see what I looked like.
Then I am turned over in the chair and she works on my right butt cheek. She uses the stain to alter my tattoo so that is represents something that would be found on a female body. To keep me from touching the coloring my arms were restrained to the side of the chair. When my face was being worked on my arms had not gotten to where I could maneuver with them some now that is also taken away. I am sure my tattoo is now very girly, since everything else is.
I receive another treatment with the hair removing cream, guarantying no body hair in the future. My face was also treated earlier, but left on longer. After they were done with that I am moved to a chair where my hair again became the focus of their ministrations.
It is sprayed with a gel, before being rolled on curlers, then under a dryer for the gel to set. I just sat there the heat of the dryer a little uncomfortable, but as a mannequin that is of no importance. When the dryer clicked off back to a stylist’s chair and the curlers are removed. My hair is brushed hard the curls relaxing some, but quickly springing back into tight curls. After five minutes of brushing the curls relax a little more, then another spray is applied to preserve the hair do as it is. No need to do anything in the future the hairdo will stay the same regardless.
I guess you could consider me low maintenance now, but the reality is that from now on I look like a pretty female in all ways, not just during the day but 24/7. If I ever wanted to go back to my previous life it would be very difficult, if not impossible. With me all spiffy and ready to go, I am mounted back on my pole, secured and loaded back into the box ready to head out.
Before the lid is put on Francine comes over and leans in to talk to me. I know you like this, I know of several others that desire the life you have received, maybe we can have you meet them later. You will be well cared for, and well paid. I have taken care of your mother, you don’t have to worry about her again. I will see that she gets a chance to visit from time to time, she feels so lucky that you love her so much to do this for her.
We both know that a lot of this is for you, and you sister and I will make sure you get full enjoyment from this excursion into another reality. Be good and I will see you in three days at your first stop. The lid is slipped on and I make my departure, box and all. Loaded back onto the bus, and secured the bus heads out.
While I was being worked on Nevada and the driver had boxed all of her creations and they were placed on the bus. Her other displays were sold off to another shop in the mall, along with her register, In our two day shows any sales will be rung up on the salon’s register.
It seems that we will be starting at the farthest salon, since we have been on the road for several days now. I am in my little world, a princess in her kingdom. I dream of future episodes out among my peers, rigid and unmoving but dressed like a queen. I don’t have to worry about earning enough money to survive, as I am cared for and loved. No nine to five job for me, 24/7 in my new life just thinking about it makes me warm inside.
At night when they settled into their comfortable beds I am still in my box. I do get fed at night, the baby bottle only allowing me to slowly withdraw any nourishment. I get some exercise once or twice a day, usually at a rest stop, the process of me being unloaded and reloaded attracting quite a bit of attention. When people ask they are told that I am a robot, needing to flex my joints some so they don’t get rusty and corroded.
By now the intrusion in my butt is not even thought about, it being necessary for my stability. Without it I bounce around in the box some. It is also quite comforting, my constant reminder of my status. To keep things different and exciting Sis changes the device that impales me during the week, some smooth and long, others short and knobby. My feet are never without heels, a necessity to keep from my intruder going even farther up my anus. Standing on my toes, now a normal thing whether in my box or out of it. To some it might be uncomfortable, to me it is heaven, safe and secure, my job just to hang around, look beautiful and display my sister’s creations.
The first show we did at one of the salons was awesome. She actually had a crowd when they unloaded me from the bus. I was featured in the middle of the salon, on my dais as each dress was slipped on to me. The customers were able to examine the dress closely while enjoying some finger food, courtesy of the salon. Then I was stripped naked and the next dress was displayed on the mannequin, me. The show took about four hours, most of the customers stayed for the entire show. After the customers left Sis added up her sales, thrilled beyond belief when she found she had sold sixty three dresses in the four hours of the show. During the show she was so busy dressing me and then writing orders up as my latest dress was scrutinized by the shoppers. She knew she was doing good, but had no idea it was this good.
I was thrilled for her, her dream of making a living off her sewing coming true for her. But a mannequin does not speak so a smile was my only way to tell her I was proud of her. She did embrace me, hugged me and even kissed the top of my ear. I tried to resist running to wash it off, but she just held me tighter keeping me there. She was acting frisky, the kiss just her way of showing love for me. The urge finally left me, I just wilted into her arms, laying my head on her shoulder. I was scolded right away, a lowly mannequin does not move, I guess we will have to see that does not happen again. I stood there as things were packed away, Francine and her in deep conversation on the other side of the room. Then back in my box, my home away from home, and loaded back on the bus.
True to her word at least one day a week I am her sister, where we spend the whole day just being two females. We shop, eat at fancy restaurants even though I know I will pay the price when I am back in mannequin mode. A movie now and then but the main diversion is shopping, as we hit every shop in sight. Trying on clothes, rummaging for deals and finding just the right lingerie to make us both feel sexy. Sis has even arranged for dates for us every once in a while, a little interaction with the male of the species. There is no doubt of my gender, in most cases Sis is jealous because I look better than she does. That could be because I am in every salon before we do the dress show, being primped and made to look even more ravishing. I might add a time I enjoy as much as being a lowly mannequin.
We have nearly completed touring half of the salons, one success after another. A temporary delay was experienced as we had to postpone a few salons so Sis could catch up with her sewing. Francine hauled my ass into the nearest salon as Sis did her sewing, vowing to keep me entertained and out of trouble. I was worked on, pampered and even did a stint as a mannequin in the middle of her salon. I think Francine is more demented than my sister, often approaching me when I am in mannequin mode and running her hands all over my body. She often gets me to break concentration, running her finger up under my dress, and then inserting it in my slit. As she withdraws her finger she makes slurpy noises and then inserts it deep in her mouth and moans. See what I have to put up with, first my sister and now Francine.
Our schedule was revamped, now more time between each stop, time necessary for Sis to get the dresses finished before we do it all over again. More time for Francine to play with me, I complain when I am not in mannequin mode, but secretly I love it.
We did find out from Mom that Francine had paid off the mortgage on her house, even paying for new appliances for her kitchen. Of course, Francine denied it but we knew better. I am happy, every fantasy I have dreamed of has become reality, a safe place to live and two people close to me that care for me. A lot of people might see my life as boring, but as my body is froze in place doing my mannequin impersonation my mind is exploring all of the feelings that result from that. Helpless, unable to move and talk, stuck in female mode and clothing, a most wonderful situation to be in, at least for me.
© 2016 thru 2024 by Francesca