The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Obsession

Part 5

Not for those under 18 (or whatever the legal age for this sort of stuff is in your area). If you’re not that old, Boo! Go away now. If you are offended by graphic descriptions of sexual activities, especially non-consensual ones, then don’t read this. All characters and situations are fictional.

Copyright © 2017

Archived on the Erotic Mind Control web site by permission of the author. This story may be downloaded for personal archiving as long as this notice is retained.

Melissa didn’t remember much of the trip home. She thought at one point she’d started to speak, feeling tears in her eyes and something raw burning in her throat, like a scream trying to escape. She’d been looking at Deborah, her eyes focussed on the older woman, accusing her…

But that couldn’t be right, the saleswoman had done so much to help her. Melissa vaguely remembered Deborah’s hand drifting to one of her earrings. After that all there was were images of the city drifting by outside her window. She couldn’t have moved much, the wing mirror of the car always in the same place in her memories.

Deborah hadn’t just driven her home, she’d helped Melissa to her flat. Told her how proud of her she was. Even carried up the wig stand and put it in Melissa’s bedroom.

“Now you just have a nice restful night.” Deborah stood half out of Melissa’s door, preparing to leave. “Everything will be fine. This was what you wanted, remember?” The saleswoman was hugging Melissa, her arms wrapped around the younger woman in reassurance.

Melissa nodded. She couldn’t think of anything to say.

The older woman stepped back, looking Melissa up and down. Her hand fiddled with one of her earrings, in the gesture Melissa was becoming familiar with.

“Call me as soon as you wake up in the morning. Don’t worry, I’ve put my number in your phone. We’ll have lunch, maybe do a bit of shopping.”

“Thank you,” Melissa said.

She saw Deborah’s head give a little shake, as if she’d surprised the woman. Then Deborah gathered herself, a sly smile spreading across her features. She turned and left, Melissa closing the door behind her.

It was late, and Melissa was hungry. She avoided thinking about what had happened as she prepared her meal and ate it. She even watched an episode of one her favourite television shows. When it was over she decided that she was too tired for another and that it was time she went to bed.

It was only as she was cleaning her teeth that the events of the evening started seeping back. Catching sight of her reflection she realised what she had to do. The wig, she couldn’t go to sleep wearing the wig. With a deep breath Melissa slowly removed it from her head. Her eyes flicked from where she held it in her hands to her reflection in the mirror. She looked so strange. One hand reached up to the mirror, meetings its image as she touched the cold glass. Standing before her was the image of a bald woman. The figure was unmoving, just like a mannequin. Melissa smiled, so happy she looked more like the figures she idolised.

Carefully she placed the wig on its stand, hoping she’d remembered to do everything Ashleigh had told her. After she stripped out of her clothes she couldn’t help but look at herself in the full-length mirror that occupied one of her wardrobe’s doors.

Melissa wasn’t sure she recognised the person she saw. Was that really her? With her bald head and equally hairless pussy she didn’t look anything like she remembered. She was sure that her skin was lighter, even after only one treatment. Or maybe that was wishful thinking. She knew that she wouldn’t be mistaken for a mannequin, despite the changes. There was still the familiar moles and marks on her skin, her areola didn’t look like theirs and her pussy was anything but featureless. In fact, she thought she’d looked more convincing in her bathroom mirror, fully clothed, than she did now. Still, she had to admit she liked what she saw.

Her bed was tempting her, promising her more dreams. Melissa wondered if they’d be any different tonight. Would she look like she did now in her dreams or would her image be the old her? She hoped for the former. Her eyes kept being drawn back to her reflection in the mirror. It was strange, so unfamiliar, yet she couldn’t help but admire it. All the changes were improvements, at least as far as she was concerned.

Almost without realising it, a hand drifted to her slit, idly began stroking up and down. Her thumb moved to her clit, the pleasure spiking through her, her hand the only movement in the room, the rest of the young woman’s body perfectly still. Then her fingers returned to her opening, harder and deeper. She came, the ball of her hand pressing down on her clit as her fingers worked their magic. The only outward sign of her passion a slight tilt backwards of her head and a flutter of her eyelids.

Her body was worth getting off to now, Melissa thought. It wasn’t perfect, still different to the mannequins, but near enough to satisfy her. Well, partially satisfy her. Lying in bed she realised sleep wasn’t going to come easily. At least not until she’d spent some time fingering herself while images of mannequins flicked through her head, an erotic slideshow. She came again, her body tensed but held perfectly still. In her sleep a smile formed on her lips as she dreamt of standing amongst a sea of mannequins, happy that she no longer looked quite so out of place.

When she awoke in the morning Melissa found herself flat on her back, her arms straight by her sides. She blinked and sat up, wondering why her head felt so strange. She rubbed her temple with one hand while she supported herself with the other. Felling a little better she looked around the room, then screamed when she caught sight of her reflection. She was bald, what had happened to her hair?

Memories of the evening before came crashing back. The salon, Karen, Ashleigh. What she’d let happen to herself, what she’d asked them to do. That couldn’t be right, could it? Her thoughts spun in confusion. Part of her insisted that she had wanted this, still did. Part of her refused to believe it, shrinking in horror from what had happened. One thought overrode all the others. She had to call Deborah. She knew that Deborah would make everything all right.

Melissa stumbled out of bed, her eyes going wide as she caught sight of her naked pussy. Desperately she tried to remember where her phone was. An image came to her, of Deborah putting it down on her kitchen table. Without bothering with clothes, Melissa ran out of her bedroom and headed for the kitchen.

“Please pick up, please pick up,” she muttered as found Deborah’s name in her contact list and listened to the ringing.

Melissa sagged in relief when she heard Deborah’s voice, “Hello dear, how are we this morning?”

“I don’t, I, my hair, why would I? thank you, help me, so happy, not what, so wonderful, I can’t, please,” words tumbled out of Melissa, almost as if two people were trying to talk at the same time. One of them deliriously happy, thanking her friend for something. The other falling to pieces, confused and frightened.

“You just stay on the line dearie, I’ll be there soon.” Deborah’s voice reassured her, calming her roiling thoughts.

Melissa wasn’t sure how long she spent on the phone, Deborah gently soothing her as the confused words continued to fall out of her mouth. Her thoughts refused to settle, her mind a jumbled mess.

“I’m here now,” she heard Deborah say, relief sweeping through her, “just come and let me in.”

Melissa stumbled over to the door, one hand still pressing the phone to her ear as she fumbled with the lock.

Deborah smiled as she stepped inside, carefully putting her own phone back in her purse.

Melissa was crying, shaking uncontrollably, her nakedness forgotten. She didn’t understand what she’d done, why she’d let it happen. It was wrong, everything was wrong. She let the older woman hold her as she sobbed and howled.

Deborah whispered words of comfort into her ear, waited until the worst of Melissa’s hysteria passed.

“Now dear, everything’s going to be all right.”

“How can it be?” Melissa sobbed, “My hair, I loved my hair.”

Deborah pulled back, just slightly, her hands never leaving Melissa’s shoulders. “Remember, it was what you wanted,” she reminded the younger woman.

“But, I.” Melissa’s protests died away as she caught sight of Deborah’s earrings. The blue gems sparkled in the morning light, holding her eyes, soothing away her worries. Soon she couldn’t remember what she’d been worried about. A little while after that even the memories of her panic dimmed.

Deborah helped Melissa dress, helped her with the wig. Twice something tried to claw out of her mind, something that made her want to scream. But Deborah would smile, and say something and even if Melissa wasn’t quite sure what she was being told she felt better, the light twinkling off Deborah’s earrings.

It was nice of Deborah to come around. Not like she needed to though. I was just a little woozy. Must have been from lying in the tank.

Looking in the mirror before they left Melissa was sure that no one could tell she was wearing a wig. She shook her head in amazement. I didn’t think they could look so realistic. Part of her felt that she looked like a person again, her hairlessness hidden. Part of her felt more like one of the mannequins, dressed up and ready to go on display.

Deborah took her to clothes shops, and when Melissa protested, wondering why the saleswoman would want to go there on her day off, Deborah said it was nice to occasionally be a customer, rather than serving them. Not that the older woman made any move to try on any of the clothes or even find something for herself. In boutique after boutique she found clothes for Melissa. Not work clothes, but casual clothes, stylish dresses and skirts and tops and pants. All rather more sophisticated than Melissa’s usual weekend wear. And when Melissa protested Deborah just smiled and took her hand and led her into one of the changing rooms, shutting the door behind them.

“You just stand there and let me handle this.” her friend said.

And so Melissa did, standing perfectly still as Deborah undressed her and then put her into the clothes she’d chosen for the young woman.

Just like she must dress the mannequins, Melissa thought.

As if to reinforce the idea Deborah posed Melissa in each outfit, before walking around her to see what she thought. She’d adjust Melissa’s hands, her feet, the angle of her hips, the tilt of her head, the expression on her face. Then Deborah would make a decision, Melissa never consulted for her opinion. Afterwards Deborah would strip the clothes from the young woman, either adding them to a pile in the dressing room or taking them with her, before disappearing and then returning with yet another outfit.

And each time, Melissa held the pose she was left in until the older woman returned.

When Deborah was satisfied she led the younger woman to the counter and paid for the clothes over Melissa’s feeble protests. Then she led Melissa to another fashion emporium. Where the same events played out again.

By the fourth shop Melissa wondered why the saleswomen didn’t comment on two women in a single change room. Especially when it was clear that one of them at least was removing their clothes. It never occurred to her to question her own actions.

Deborah stayed with her the entire day, made sure she ate lunch, helped her carry the purchases back to her car. Helped carry them to Melissa’s apartment. And whenever Melissa seemed worried or distracted, a few words from her friend and the troublesome thought was forgotten.

That night, after a dinner of takeaway Chinese, the smell of Szechuan cooking still permeating the flat, the saleswoman helped Melissa get ready for bed. A small part of Melissa worried that Deborah might be trying to come on to her, but the older woman was more like a mother than a lover. After she made sure that Melissa was tucked up in bed she even kissed her good night on the top of her bald head, Melissa drifting off more quickly into dreams than she had in weeks. Dreams in which she stood perfectly still, staring out fixedly from on top of her display stand.

Melissa didn’t scream the next morning when she awoke. She knew what to expect. There was a brief moment of indecision as she picked up the wig from its stand, wondering if she’d done the right thing. She closed her eyes, drifted in her memories of the mannequins, and then she knew everything would be alright.

As fast as her heels allowed Melissa hurried along the street, eager to spend as much time in the shops before she had to go to work. Once there she drifted from mannequin to mannequin, looking up at the frozen perfection.

I look more like you now Melissa thought, happiness suffusing her.

“Hey, is that a new hairdo?” Fiona asked, soon after Melissa arrived at work.

“Umm, yes,” the young woman replied nervously, one hand rising to gently stroke her borrowed hair. Doubts assailed her. She’d been certain no-one could tell she was wearing a wig. But Fiona knew her. If anyone might notice, it would be her.

“Nice,” the blonde said, nodding, “it suits you.”

Melissa relaxed, and buried herself in her work. She needed to get away as soon as possible if she was to fit in some time with the mannequins before she was due at Karen’s salon for her next skin treatment.

By end of the week Melissa was sure that she could see the difference in her skin tone. She couldn’t be totally certain, only having her memories to compare to. But looking in the mirror she knew the treatments were having an effect. Her skin was lighter, and she could see it was taking on a familiar sheen. She was used to her hairless image now, she liked looking at herself as she stood in front of the mirror, unmoving. It wasn’t as good as looking at the mannequins, even with the changes there was still too many differences between her and them, but it wasn’t a bad substitute.

She enjoyed the treatments, and not only for what they were doing for her complexion. Floating in the strange blue fluid, drifting off to the music that flowed into her head from the earbuds, Melissa was content. She didn’t have to move, didn’t have to think. She could simply be. She lost track of time in the tank, always being surprised when Karen or Ashleigh would crack it open and help her out.

It was always the ash-blonde who dried her off. Occasionally Ashleigh would repeat her attentions from the first treatment, although only when Karen gave her permission. Melissa didn’t mind either way, she wasn’t gay. But when it happened she thought it a small price to pay for the chance to look more like the figures she idolised. That the orgasms the ash-blonde girl gave her were some of the best she’d ever experienced mattered little one way or the other.

On Friday night, as she was getting dressed, Melissa felt the weight of Karen’s gaze. The salon owner’s eyes trailed up and down her figure, Melissa’s body humming with the afterglow of Ashleigh’s tongue. “Yes, you’re coming along nicely,” the beautician observed. “Probably only need another week.” The older woman leant in and peered at Melissa’s skin, poked at her arm and stomach. Melissa stood motionless, waiting until the older woman was done.

Karen looked her in the eyes. Melissa could see a self-satisfied smirk on the other’s woman face. “Deborah will be pleased.” Then she stepped back. Melissa took it as a sign that she could finish getting dressed.

“Speaking of which,” Karen added, “She said that you were to meet her here at 10am tomorrow.”

“Um, sure,” Melissa replied. She wasn’t all that sure really, but if it was what Deborah wanted then she’d do it. “Uh, why?”

Karen’s smirk turned into a shark-like grin, “Oh, it’s a surprise, you just wait and see.”

After the other woman left Melissa frowned. Maybe her own hair would be back. She remembered Karen saying something about a week. But that wouldn’t be much of a surprise. Ah well, I’ll find out tomorrow.

Melissa was back at the salon well before 10am. A restless eagerness had gripped her, as she’d hurried on her way, the prospect of her own hair returning pulling her on. She was wearing some of the nice casual clothes that Deborah had bought her, a white pants suit and under the jacket a red and white striped top. It wasn’t what she used to wear, but with the flat-heeled sandals she could negotiate the crowds almost as nimbly as she ever had. Catching a glimpse of herself in one of the shop windows she passed, Melissa smiled. With the long dark hair of the wig combed straight, large sun glasses and a matching bag and hat for her outfit she thought she almost looked like a model.

Or, if she looked at the reflection as a snapshot, a mannequin.

Ashleigh looked up from a customer whose hair she was cutting as Melissa entered the salon. The girl smiled shyly at her and indicated a seat. Melissa picked up one of the fashion magazines that lay around to entertain waiting customers and began flicking through it. She’d never bothered with such things before but now she found she enjoyed looking at the pictures. The motionless images captivated her, just like she remembered those posters on her childhood bedroom walls. She thought she could use some of the poses for her work in Deborah’s store.

The saleswoman arrived punctually at 10. After a quick glance at Ashleigh she headed over to Melissa. The young woman noticed the blonde disappearing into the back of the store as Deborah greeted her.

“Hello dearie. How are you today?”

“Fine,” Melissa smiled.

“Good, good,” Deborah’s voice reminded Melissa of a cheery aunt, all warmth and buttered scones. She let the older woman help her up and lead her to the door which Ashleigh held open for them.

Karen was leaning up against the massage table, idly filing her nails, when they entered the room. Melissa noticed that there were three boxes on the table, the first two much bigger than the last. The larger boxes looked about the right size for a wig stand. My hair? She wondered, her heart giving a little flutter. One of them might hold the wig made from her hair, but that would mean the other large box was another wig. She hadn’t expected to be given two. That would be a surprise, as Karen had promised. She didn’t know what the third box was though.

As Melissa had expected the two large boxes did hold wigs. The first had long black hair. Melissa knew what it was as soon as Karen lifted the wig stand from the box.

“This is yours.” The salon owner said, turning the wig stand from side to side. “Hasn’t it come up well?” Melissa could hear the surprise in Karen’s voice.

The young woman had to admit that she shared in the amazement. The wig shone, the hair glossy and thick, falling beautifully straight. It wasn’t quite as long as she remembered, but she’d been warned that it would be like that. Mine, she thought as she took an involuntary step towards the wig, but Deborah held her back.

“Patience, dear.”

Karen opened the other box to reveal a light brown wig, almost as long as the first, but falling in glowing waves. Melissa stared at the wig, wondering what she would look like in it. She was certain that she was going to find out.

“Which one first?” she asked Deborah. Melissa hoped it would be the raven-haired wig. Much as she liked the idea of wigs, part of her wanted to leave here wearing her own hair.

“All in good time, dearie, all in good time,” Deborah replied, her arms folded across her chest, “but first if you could give that one to Ashleigh.” One finger was pointed at Melissa’s head

The young woman realised that Deborah meant the wig she was wearing now. Of course, she thought, if I have my own hair back I won’t need another like it. Ashleigh was waiting to take the raven-black wig, the girl having slipped so silently into the room that Melissa hadn’t noticed her enter.

Doffing the wig, Melissa handed it to Ashleigh, who left as quietly as she’d entered.

“Now,” Deborah began after the girl had left, “we have something else for you.” Melissa knew that she must mean the last box. The young woman looked between it and the saleswoman expectantly.

“Karen, if you would,” Deborah directed.

The salon owner opened the other box and removed its contents. Melissa wasn’t sure what it was, all she could see for the moment was a pink, shiny, something. She thought it was the colour and texture of the mannequins’ skin. Then Karen held it up and Melissa could see that it had the shape of a pair of panties. Melissa frowned, it looked like the pair she had worn last week, but something about it looked a little too bulky…

“Let’s go see, shall we?” Deborah asked brightly, her hand taking Melissa’s hand and leading her over, the young woman following unresisting.

“We thought you should have your own, you see,” the saleswoman said as she indicated the garment that Karen held up. Melissa’s eyes widened as she remembered the moulding that Karen had made of her privates.

Karen turned the vinyl panties around and Melissa could see that the rear of the garment was shaped into two realistic-looking buttock shapes.

“It does need to look convincing,” Deborah stated, then added, “plus it’s designed to be a bit more fun to wear…”

Karen offered the garment to Melissa. Hesitantly the young woman reached out and took it. The surface was smooth and the material felt thinner than she expected. But it was also heavier than she thought it would be and there seemed to be something inside it. Curious, she pulled the waistband apart and looked inside.

A horrified gasp escaped her and Melissa almost dropped the panties. She wanted to, but her fingers wouldn’t release them. Deborah couldn’t expected her to wear this. There were, were, things, protuberances, oh my god dildos inside the panties. Two long prongs, one thicker than the other, lurked inside and Melissa knew just where they were supposed to go.

Eyes wide in fear she stared at the panties before lifting her gaze to the saleswoman, “No, I, I, can’t, please…” Melissa swallowed as her words died away.

“Nonsense dear,” Deborah admonished her, “they’re just what you need. With your skin coming along nicely they’ll blend right in. And I just know you’ll find them, well, enjoyable.”

Numbly Melissa shook her head. Deborah couldn’t be serious.

“Oh, come on now.” Deborah’s cajoled, just a hint of impatience in her tone. “Just think what they’ll make you look like.”

Melissa couldn’t help herself, the image popped into her head. She knew what it would look like. With those panties on her crotch would be smooth, featureless, just like the mannequins. She looked at Deborah, her eyes caught by the light glinting off the older woman’s earrings.

“You want to wear them.” Deborah’s voice was low and smooth as the mannequins’ skin.

“I, I want to wear them.”

“You’ll love them.”

“I’ll love them.”

“You want to put them on now.”

“I, I, no.” Melissa whispered, desperate to look away. But try as she might her eyes remained staring fixedly ahead.

“You want to put them on now,” Deborah repeated curtly.

“I want to put them on now,” Melissa replied. Of course I do, they’ll make me look like more like a mannequin.

“Good girl,” Deborah smiled, as Melissa felt herself moistening at the words, “now let us help you.”

Melissa knew what she had to do. It wasn’t hard. She just stood there, only moving when Deborah told her to.

Karen held her by the shoulders as the saleswoman lifted one foot to take off a shoe, replacing the first on the floor before lifting the second and removing Melissa’s other piece of footwear. Then her pants were undone and they, along with her panties, lowered to the floor, before Deborah had her step out of them.

Melissa waited for a moment then, unconcerned with being half-naked or that without a wig she was still bald. She heard squelching sounds and realised that Deborah must be applying lubricant to the dildos. Then the woman squatted down in front of her and Melissa’s legs were guided into the waiting holes of the vinyl garment. She could feel it sliding up her legs. Her eyelids fluttered nervously as the sensation neared her crotch. Something tried to tell her that this was wrong but the thought wouldn’t hold. This was going to help her be better at pretending to be a mannequin. Nothing could be wrong with that.

A quiver ran through the young woman’s body, despite her determination to stay perfectly still, as she felt the thicker of the two dildos touch her lower lips. Deborah ran its tip up and down her slit a few times and Melissa felt her juices start to run, a murmured “Good girl,” from the saleswoman only helping things along.

Gently Deborah slid the dildo inside the young woman’s vagina and Melissa was grateful for the consideration, as her labia were stretched and pushed aside. The dildo was large and thick and she felt completely full, the intruder pressing against her inner walls. At least she thought she was full, until Deborah began to repeat the process with the other dildo. Melissa had never had anything, back there, despite requests from a couple of her boyfriends. The thought had repulsed her. Now she simply swallowed nervously and waited for Deborah to slide the second dildo into her anus. She could feel its tip waiting at her puckered hole.

“Relax dear, there’s a good girl,” Deborah said, and Melissa’s pussy clenched around the dildo already within her. Then she relaxed.

Deborah still had to struggle a bit to force the dildo into Melissa’s arse. Despite the saleswoman’s care there was some pain and Melissa couldn’t manage to suppress a couple of grunts.

But then the dildo was home, and Deborah was pulling the panties up tight. Melissa couldn’t believe how full she felt, the dildos stretching her internal walls. But no more than she could bear. The panties fit snuggly around her crotch and arse, almost like a second skin. Well no surprise there, they were made from a mould of me. She could feel them tight around her rear, the material curving to her shape. They hugged her pussy, the pressure on her labia sending little sparks of pleasure, almost lost in the sensations from the dildos themselves. There even seemed to be some extra pressure on her clit. Melissa wiggled her hips, just a little, and she was certain that there had to be a third protrusion, smaller than the other two, so she hadn’t noticed it, but it was right over her clit and exerting constant pressure on her nub.

“Now let’s have a look,” Deborah said as she led Melissa over to a full length mirror.

“Oh very nice,” the saleswoman said admiringly. “What do you think Karen?”

“Coming along,” the salon owner admitted, “still needs that last week of treatments though.”

“Yes, yes,” Deborah replied dismissively, “Now then …” Deborah started posing Melissa, just a simple standard pose, left hand on hip thrust in the same direction, head up and turned slightly to the right, while her right arm hung loosely at her side. Her feet were about a foot or so apart.

Even with her head not pointing straight at the mirror Melissa could still see her reflection. With her bald head and featureless crotch it could almost have been one of the mannequins looking back at her. She still had her top and jacket on, but that only helped the illusion, as they hid some of the ways in which she differed from the artificial figures. It was clear where her new panties ended and her own skin began at the top of her legs, but Melissa was sure that the contrast was much less noticeable then when she’d worn the other pair last week. She didn’t feel embarrassed at her near nakedness, the panties giving as much protection as a bikini bottom would, and she’d worn those before. In fact, all she felt was a warm glow of contentment and a pleasant feeling of fullness from her arse and cunt.

Melissa could hear Deborah and Karen talking behind her, but she couldn’t make out the words. It didn’t matter. She was happy where she was.

After a time, she didn’t know how long, the young woman realised that Deborah was speaking to her. “Time to go dear, better put your clothes back on. And one of the wigs.”

Melissa’s reached for the panties, intending to take them off, but Deborah’s hand stayed her movement.

“Why bother dear? You’ll only have to put them back on again at the store.”

Melissa walked with Deborah towards the nearest tube station, apparently the Saturday morning traffic had dissuaded the older woman from bringing her car. Each woman carried a bag, Melissa’s had the stand for her hair, Deborah the light brown wig. Melissa felt odd, wearing her own hair again. It wasn’t quite the same, now that it was only a wig, but at least it was her hair. Every now and then she’d reach up with her free hand and stroke it, just to reassure herself that it was there. It took her a little while to get used to walking with the panties, but after that each step gave her a little frisson of pleasure.

As they sat together on the train Melissa looked at all the other people on the carriage. Young people, eyes glued to their phones, older couples, friends going out for a day’s shopping. She’d look at one, then nervously look away before they realised she was watching them. She wondered what they would think if they knew what she was wearing, knew the guilty pleasure she was taking in it.

At the clothing store Deborah took the bag from Melissa and placed it, together with the one she was carrying, behind the counter. Melissa hoped that they’d be safe there. The younger woman expected to be led out the back, but instead Deborah had her wait until there were no customers in the store, then she guided Melissa towards a vacant display stand.

The young woman frowned, looking at the empty space, “Do you want me to model this?” she asked, pointing at the clothes she was wearing.

“Oh no dear,” Deborah replied, “but I think it will be fine to change you out here now. You just hold still. Julia!”

Melissa was frozen in shock. She couldn’t believe that Deborah was serious. Yet the older woman gave every sign that she was, waiting patiently for her colleague. Soon Melissa could hear the strawberry blonde saleswoman trotting over.

“Help me get her out of these,” Deborah instructed. “Then one of the new summer frocks I think.”

“It won’t really go with that hair,” Julia observed dubiously.

Deborah regarded Melissa for a moment, then nodded. “No, I suppose you’re right. Start getting her out of those clothes and I’ll get another one. Honey blonde I think.”

Melissa’s heart was in her mouth as Deborah walked away, her dark hair in the saleswoman’s hands. A tremor of sadness ran through her, her heart heavy in her chest. She’d had her own hair back for such a short time. Yet she wasn’t sure how much that mattered, not compared to what the women had planned. She didn’t really know Julia and now the younger saleswoman was going to strip her naked. Still, Melissa reassured herself, Julia must do it all the time with the mannequins and if Deborah trusts her so should I.

Melissa started moving to make it easier for Julia to strip her. But the younger saleswoman whispered in her ear. “Just stay still. Don’t want anyone realising you’re not a mannequin.” A twitch of pleasure shot from Melissa’s groin, where the dildos were stretching her so delightfully. She wasn’t just to be posed as a mannequin, she was going to be prepared as one too.

After that Julia made short work of Melissa’s outfit, bending and twisting the bald woman’s limbs with a certainty born of long practice. Soon Melissa stood clad only in her vinyl panties. Hopefully I look enough like a mannequin that if anyone sees…

“Miss!” she heard an unfamiliar voice call, “could I get some help please.”

“Just a minute,” Julia called brightly before whispering to Melissa, “you stay right there.”

Melissa knew that she really didn’t have any other choice. She could keep the pose the saleswoman had left her in and pretend to be just one of the mannequins. Or she could move, and have whoever it was that had summoned Julia realise that Melissa was a real woman. The graphic designer knew which would be more embarrassing, so she stayed perfectly still. The air in the shop was warm, so she didn’t think it was cold that was turning her nipples into hard points.

“Sorry about that,” she heard Deborah whisper a few minutes later. Melissa could feel first one foot and then the other being lifted as Deborah slipped a pair of panties onto her and up her legs. Strangely she could feel the press of the elastic of her new underwear through the vinyl of the pair she already wore. A bra was placed on her and then her view was momentarily blocked as a dress was slipped over her head. She felt a wig going on and she could just see the flowing blonde locks at the edge of her vision.

“Take the other side Julia,” Deborah asked. The younger saleswoman had returned, obviously free of her demanding customer.

“On three,” the older saleswoman directed, “one, two, three!” Melissa felt herself lifted the foot or so into the air needed to bring her to level of the display. Then she was shifted backwards until she stood on the display base. It was a struggle, but she managed to retain her pose throughout.

Deborah spent a few minutes posing the young woman. No words this time, just gentle but firm hands adjusting her stance. Melissa’s right hand was brought up to gently brush a strand of her newly acquired hair out of her face while her other hand was posed as if waving to someone. Her left foot was placed in front of her right and she was leant ever so slightly forward. After a few adjustments to Melissa’s expression Deborah slipped a pair of sunglasses on her and the young woman could imagine herself as some celebrity, posing for the paparazzi.

“There you go,” the saleswoman whispered, “have fun.”

Melissa drifted in a bright cloud. The joy of posing as a mannequin, and the pleasant sensations rippling up from the dildos, left room for little else. She had no real thoughts, only feelings, her world a simple place.

The young woman was surprised at how dark it was outside when Deborah roused her from her perch.

“You must be feeling thirsty, you poor thing,” Deborah observed, “Get yourself a drink and, hmm, anything else you need, and then I’ll run you home.”

Melissa headed out to the back of the store to get herself a drink and relieve herself. When she was finished she looked at the vinyl panties, pooled between her legs. She wasn’t sure what to do with them, but leaving them here wasn’t an option. Carrying them was out of the question. So she pulled them back up, surprised at how easily the dildos slipped back into place. Then she put her own clothes back on, having collected them on the way through.

Melissa did take the panties off before she went to bed that night, after having carefully combed both her wigs. There was a strange, empty, feeling deep inside her which didn’t go away until she was stroking herself and dreaming of standing amongst a sea of mannequins.

(To be continued)