The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Obsession

Part 7

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 hurried to the shops, moving as quickly through the early morning Saturday crowd as her heels would allow. How could I be so stupid? she thought, anger at herself setting her lips in a hard line. She tugged nervously at a strand of hair from the wig she wore. Her fingers twisted in the long hair, the silken touch leaving a tingling feeling in her fingers. It felt nice, but out of the corner of her eye she could just see the golden tresses. It wasn’t her hair. Last night she’d forgotten to retrieve the wig made from her raven hair and walked out of the shop in the blonde wig that she’d had on while posing as a mannequin. The young woman couldn’t believe she’d forgotten to retrieve her own hair. What if Deborah wanted this wig for another mannequin this morning? She’ll kill me! Melissa’s breath hitched as she impatiently waited for the pedestrian lights to change.

Once she’d realised her mistake she’d readied herself and hurried out of her flat as quickly as she could. Please let nothing have happened to it, the nervous thought accompanied by butterflies in her stomach. Her hair might only be a wig now, but she still thought of it as her hair and she wanted it back. The young woman increased her pace as the shops came into view.

Entering the middle of the three stores, the one that sold the sophisticated work and casual clothes that were all she now wore, Melissa stopped. She drew a breath, trying to calm herself. She looked around the shop. Then her eyes flew wide. One of the mannequins, the tall, slim, one that she was used to seeing in the hair she now wore, was posed wearing her hair. The model was wearing a black and white floral print cotton dress which fell halfway to her knees and a stylish short black leather jacket. Three inch open-toed sandals completed her outfit. The mannequin’s left foot was in front of the right, right hand on her hip, while her left hand hung casually by her side. Her head was tilted, just slightly, to the right, some of her hair My hair! was brought forward over her left shoulder, the remainder falling down her back. Her lips were slightly open, as if she was about to break into a smile.

“We rather thought the hair went with her outfit and we knew you wouldn’t mind,” Deborah said, appearing at Melissa’s side. The older woman patted her shoulder before adding, “Don’t worry, we’ll make sure you don’t forget it today.”

Melissa wasn’t sure how she felt about one of the mannequins using her hair. She couldn’t deny that idea sent a warm rush through her, her muscles instinctively clenching around the dildo that was her constant companion. Another part resented it, she felt like she was losing a piece of herself.

Perhaps sensing her inner conflict Deborah whispered, “It’s only fair dear. Where do you think all the other wigs you wear come from?”

Melissa gave a start, realising the truth of the saleswoman’s words. After all, she’d already recognised that the wig she was wearing was usually on the mannequin she was looking at. And all the other wigs she’d posed in she’d seen on other mannequins at one time or another. If she was going to use their hair then it was only fair that sometimes they used hers.

As soon as the shop was empty of customers Deborah had Melissa stand next to a waiting display stand. Almost immediately the young woman heard the door of the shop open, the cool hiss of the automatic doors announcing the arrival of a customer. Melissa froze, a babble of voices marking the location of the women as the browsed through the clothes on display.

Melissa couldn’t see them, as she was faced towards the back of the store. The young woman wasn’t concerned, she’d been stripped and prepared a few times now while customers browsed the store. They never paid any attention to her, she didn’t expect anything different now, even as she heard footsteps approaching.

Deborah was standing in front of her, head cocked to one side. It was a gesture Melissa was familiar with, the saleswoman considering what outfit to dress her in. After a moment she called out, “One of the new blue dresses please Julia.”

“The ones in wool?” the younger saleswoman called back.

“That’s it dear,” Deborah replied, “and one of the shorter wigs. Brunette should suit.”

Melissa heard the door open again, another customer entering. She felt her arm being pulled back as Deborah started to remove her jacket. Melissa knew that if she wanted to she could make it easier for the saleswoman. But with customers about it was too much of a risk, so she let the saleswoman manipulate her. And she enjoyed being treated as a mannequin.

As Deborah finished removing Melissa’s coat the young woman heard footsteps approaching from her behind her. It had to be a customer, Julia still not returned from the storeroom. A flush of annoyance swept through her. The customer would probably want Deborah’s help, and she would be left standing, waiting to be readied to be put on display.

“Oh, good morning dear,” Deborah said.

“Hello,” came the reply, Melissa’s eyes widening in surprise as she realised it was Fiona. She didn’t know what to do. If she acknowledged her friend the other customers might realise what was going on. She decided to wait until Deborah told her what to do.

“Is Melissa about?” Fiona asked quietly, still behind her. The blonde was probably trying to avoid being overheard by the other customers.

Deborah smiled, “Just come around here dear.”

Fiona appeared in Melissa’s view, a quizzical expression on her face as she looked at the saleswoman. With a delicate gesture Deborah pointed in Melissa’s direction. Fiona looked at her, uncomprehending. Then her eyes widened in surprise.

“Is that her?” she asked the saleswoman.

“Of course it is dear,” Deborah tisked.

“Hi!” Fiona addressed her friend brightly, giving Melissa a quick wave. Then she looked around, her head turning from side to side in quick jerks. Melissa though she must have been worried about being caught out by the other customers.

“Is she, umm, going to go to be modelling?” Fiona asked.

“Yes dear, but she’s not ready yet. Would you like to watch?”

“Sure!” the blonde replied eagerly.

Melissa felt her wig being removed, Fiona’s eyes going wide in surprise.

“She’s bald?” came her friend’s strangled cry.

“Of course dear, makes it easier to give her hair to match with the clothes.” Deborah replied.

“But, I, she’s, at work, she’s had hair,” Fiona stumbled.

“It was made into a wig dear, she wears it most of the time.” Deborah replied, before pointing at the other mannequin, “That’s it over there.”

Fiona glanced at the mannequin wearing Melissa’s hair, a quick shake of her head showing her disbelief.

Deborah pushed Melissa’s arms up over her head, then bent the motionless woman over at the waist until her arms were parallel to the floor. Her stretch top was pulled off over her head and she was straightened up again.

“Oh there you are,” Deborah said as she removed Melissa’s bra and blue pendant.

“Sorry,” Julia apologised, “took a while to find it.” Melissa didn’t know whether she meant the dress or the wig that she carried. Not that it really mattered to her, she’d be wearing both soon enough.

Fiona didn’t seem to mind, though her eyes were wide as saucers as she took in Melissa’s topless, bald form.

Deborah unzipped Melissa’s skirt and it was dropped to the floor, followed by her panties. She could see Fiona gnawing at her lower lip in surprise. Melissa thought that she should be embarrassed, mortified, at appearing like this in front of her friend. She was naked now, tits and featureless pussy clearly on display. But while she knew she should feel like that, she didn’t. The mannequins didn’t feel ashamed when they were left unclothed and, now, neither did she.

“Hold her steady,” Deborah directed Julia as first one foot then another was lifted to remove her sandals and slip away the clothes pooled around her ankles. Her feet were now shod in three inch black business shoes.

“Is that how she always looks?” Fiona asked, voice quiet in amazement.

“Yes dear,” Deborah replied distractedly.

“Even, you know?” Fiona enquired, a hand waving nervously in the direction of Melissa’s pussy.

“Yes dear,” Deborah repeatedly patiently, “She rather likes it, and it does save time in getting her ready.”

“Oh wow,” Fiona breathed.

Melissa allowed herself a small swallow to calm her nerves. She hoped the action didn’t show. She wasn’t sure she could cope with Fiona’s new knowledge. Her friend knew, now. Every time Fiona looked at her at work she’d know what Melissa looked like under her clothes.

“Umm,” Fiona started, “Why are you dressing her like that? Why doesn’t she just, err, do it herself?”

“Helps get her in the mood dear,” Deborah replied. Then Melissa was bent at the waist again and the dress went on over her head. She felt better now, the stylish woollen dress something that could be worn to work or to a social event. The neckline demurely hugged her collar bones and hemline came almost to her knees, the cut and quality of the dress making Melissa feel sophisticated.

Deborah and Julia left her on the floor for a while as they saw to the other customers. Melissa could see Fiona looking her up and down.

“I can sort of see why you do it,” the blonde said at last, “but it’s not for me. I mean, getting changed like that. But as long as you’re happy.” Fiona finished with a shrug.

Melissa was happy, just standing there. It wasn’t long before Deborah returned, the customers having left the shop with their purchases. The young woman was finally able to climb onto her stand, giving her friend a small smile as she did. Then Deborah expertly arranged her pose.

Melissa’s left hand was on her hip, elbow cocked out wide. Her left leg was crossed in front of her right, heel slightly off the ground. She was given a jacket which matched the dress, and it hung over her right shoulder, one finger of her right hand supporting it. Her head was turned half left, as she gazed out into the distance. With her short, beautifully styled wig, Melissa thought she must look rather elegant.

“Well, you have fun,” Fiona whispered, before turning to leave.

To Melissa’s relief Fiona didn’t make anything of her new-found knowledge at work, although her friend did seem to be dropping words like “still” and “pose” and even “frozen” into the conversation at any opportunity. Or perhaps it was just her imagination.

A few weeks later, after Melissa stepped down from her stand after the shop closed, Deborah took her by the elbow and led her to the storeroom. The young woman was surprised, she expected to be changed out in the main part of the shop. But she knew Deborah must have some reason for what she was doing, so the young woman let herself be led unresisting.

In the storeroom one of the mannequins was standing naked and bald in front of the mirror. Melissa was sure that she had seen that one clothed and on display earlier in the day. What’s it doing here?

If Deborah noticed the puzzlement Melissa felt the older woman gave no sign. Quickly she removed Melissa’s wig and clothing, twisting and positioning her arms, bending her at the waist and straightening her back up. Soon the young woman was as naked as the mannequin beside which she stood. Melissa realised that she had been put in the same pose as the mannequin. It was a simple pose, right hand on hip, elbow cocked out while their left arms were held casually at the side. The feet of both the young woman and the mannequin were a few inches apart and their chins were slightly lifted. Still, Melissa could see both their images clearly in the mirror before her.

“Now then dear, let’s have another look at you,” Deborah said, after making a few minor adjustments to both Melissa and the mannequin. The young woman didn’t think she was supposed to do anything, so she held her pose as Deborah walked around her and the mannequin. She was happy to enjoy another chance to pose motionless.

Which meant what happened next was something of a surprise.

“Tell me,” Deborah asked, “what can you see?”

It took Melissa a moment to realise that the saleswoman wanted her to respond. The young woman considered the images in the mirror. Part of her thrilled at how similar the two figures before her looked. Both holding the same pose, both with the same shiny, pearlescent, skin. At first glance it was just two mannequins, bald without their wigs, featureless pussies leaving their artificiality in no doubt. The graphic designer could barely contain the joy she felt at how similar they looked.

But much as she might have wished it, it was clear that they weren’t the same. The figure next to her had perfect skin, not a mole or a spot or a mark anywhere upon her. Not that there was anything particularly unusual about Melissa’s skin, she had no more marks than any other young woman. But the contrast to the featureless perfection of the mannequins was obvious and left her feeling depressed.

Melissa could see a third image in the mirror, Deborah, the saleswoman looking at her expectantly. It was clear that an answer was required.

“Well, she hasn’t got any moles or spots or anything, and umm…”

“Yes” Deborah encouraged.

Melissa knew that the spots on her skin weren’t the only difference between her and the mannequin.

“Her nipples aren’t really there, they’re just a little lump and a painted circle.” Melissa felt her voice hitch with the last observation. She looked so much like her idols now, her success in fooling customers who had seen her naked, even the two girls who had examined her so closely the other week, something to be proud of. But she knew that she didn’t really look like one of the mannequins. And she never would.

“Good girl.”

Much as she wanted to hold her pose Melissa couldn’t stop her eyes widening and her lips tightening as her orgasm crashed through her. The sensation had come without warning, the moment the words had left Deborah’s lips her pussy had clenched around the dildo that was its constant companion, fires shooting up through her belly, burning in her breasts, before exploding in her mind. The aftershocks rode through her, delicious waves rolling over her, leaving her wanting more.

What? Where? Melissa’s thoughts were in a daze, questions all she could manage.

“Wouldn’t you like to be more like a mannequin?” Deborah asked, her voice low to whisper in Melissa’s ear.

The young woman couldn’t form words, the sensations still running through her body as her pussy clenched rhythmically on the dildo buried deep within her.

“Not just look like one,” Deborah whispered, sliding in between Melissa and the mannequin, “but…”

But?

Deborah put her hand on the mannequin’s arm, moved it up until the figure’s fingers were brushing its cheek. “She only moves when someone poses her. Otherwise she’s still, perfect, all the time. So beautiful, so elegant.”

Deborah moved to stand next to Melissa. Positioned the young woman’s arm so she was again mimicking the pose of the mannequin.

“Wouldn’t you like to be like that?” Deborah asked, leaning back to again whisper in her ear.

“I, no…,” There was only one thing Deborah could mean but Melissa didn’t believe it was possible. And even if it was it would be too much, a step too far…

“Good girl.”

Another orgasm tore through Melissa, her pussy burning with need. The young woman’s breath caught as the waves rolled over her, her blood roaring in her ears. The pleasure burnt on and on, her breath finally coming in heaving gasps as she struggled to maintain her pose.

“You’ve had so much fun pretending to be a mannequin, haven’t you?” Melissa could see a smile on Deborah’s lips in her reflection in the mirror, something dark flashing in the older woman’s eyes. The light spun and glittered from the blue jewels in her earrings.

“Yes, I.”

“Good girl.”

Melissa cried out as she crested again, the sensations building and building, each peak higher than the last. She wanted to throw her head back, cry out, arch her back, anything. But she couldn’t, her body locking in place. Somehow that made it all feel even better.

“Wouldn’t it be even better if you weren’t pretending, if you were a mannequin?” Deborah’s words were black oil, seeping into Melissa’s mind. The shattered pieces of the young woman’s thoughts were sinking in the darkness.

“No, I, I’m not.” Melissa struggled to hold on. What Deborah was offering was so tempting. Nothing compared to the times she spent on her display stand. But she was real, she was human. She could enjoy what she was doing. A mannequin was an object, unfeeling, unthinking. Just to be posed and looked at and used. She couldn’t want that.

“You want to be a mannequin, not just look like one, but be one.” Deborah voice was insistent, filling the young woman’s mind.

Desperately Melissa tried to resist. She couldn’t believe what her friend was doing to her. Deborah had helped her so much, how could she betray her like this? Melissa didn’t want to be an object.

“No, I, I’m real. I’m not an object,” the girl cried.

“Melissa,” Deborah snapped. The saleswoman stood in front of her. Melissa couldn’t take her eyes off the older woman, her eyes helplessly drawn to the blue earrings that Deborah always wore, the light glinting off them.

“You want to be a mannequin.” Deborah commanded

“I want,” Melissa answered while in her head she wailed No! over and over.

“Good girl,” Deborah smiled, and another orgasm washed over the young woman, picking up the remnants of the last and drowning her in the sensations.

“You want to be a mannequin.” Deborah repeated.

Melissa fought to keep quiet, to not say the words. She feared what they meant, feared what would happen to her.

Over and over Deborah repeated, “Good girl”, “You want to a mannequin.” Melissa lost count of the number of times she came, locked in her pose. She couldn’t think, could hardly breathe, her thoughts, her sense of self, fragmenting. One orgasm hardly ebbing away before another assaulted her. She didn’t know why she was refusing her friend. She could see herself in the mirror, unmoving, expression unchanging, as bliss rode over her again and again. What else but a mannequin could stand there, unmoved by something like that? What could be better than being a mannequin? Posed, elegant, sophisticated, dressed in wonderful clothes. Nothing but an object to be looked at, admired, used. It was what she’d always wanted. Melissa knew that now.

“You want to be a mannequin.” Deborah said again. And this time Melissa answered.

“I want to be a mannequin.”

“Good girl,” the saleswoman smiled.

One last orgasm seized the young woman, muscles clenching on both the dildos. Pulses swept through her, pure pleasure scouring her brain, the sensations red and thick and delicious as they drowned her thoughts.

“You should get dressed now,” Deborah said, a movement of her finger indicating Melissa’s clothes.

The young woman blinked and looked around. She frowned, wondering how long she had stood in front of the mirror. She seemed strangely hot and out of breath, almost as if… She shook her head dismissing the notion. She and her friend had talked, Melissa confessing her dream of not just pretending to be a mannequin but actually being one. Of course it had been silly, just an idle dream, such things couldn’t really happen. But then Deborah had said she could help.

“But, but how?” Melissa asked, confused.

“You let me worry about that,” the saleswoman said, giving Melissa a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “I just want you to be sure. Do you want to be a mannequin, not just look like one, but be one? Will you let me make you into a mannequin?”

Melissa couldn’t contain her excitement. She knew it wasn’t very mannequin-like but she had to give a little bounce of joy on the spot as she clapped her hands in glee “Oh yes, yes, please.”

Deborah grinned, her eyes never leaving the young woman. “Well, then you need to wear this.” The saleswoman reached into a pocket of her jacket and drew out a small box.

Melissa recognised it as a ring box. Deborah opened it, and Melissa saw the ring within, silver with a large blue sapphire. “Umm,” she said, hesitantly reaching towards the ring, “it, uh, looks a bit like an engagement ring.”

“I suppose it does,” Deborah answered slyly, “why you don’t you try it on your ring finger?”

Gingerly Melissa picked up the ring and slid it on, surprised to find it a perfect fit. She held her hand up in front of her face, admiring the ring.

After a moment she looked at Deborah uncertainly, “Uh, does this mean we’re engaged?”

Deborah laughed, gently, “Not really, but you did just make me a long-term promise.”

“I suppose I did,” Melissa allowed. She felt giddy. They might not be engaged, might not be any more than friends, but she could hardly contained her happiness. She supposed this was how she might feel if someone she loved had proposed to her. Melissa knew what her heart’s desire was, it was so close she could almost touch it.

Melissa stared at the ring on her finger. It was so difficult to think, the blue of the gem filling her mind. She moved her hand, just slightly, marvelling at how the light caught the facets of the gem.

“Umm,” Melissa managed at last, tearing her eyes away from the gem to look at her friend. She sighed, looking at the saleswoman. Deborah, her best friend in the whole world was going to make her dearest wish come true. “If we’re not engaged why do I need the ring?”

“It will get you ready dear,” Deborah’s tone one you would use to a small child.

“Oh, right.” Melissa frowned.

“Well, it is quite a change, you realise.”

Melissa merely nodded, staring at her ring again.

“The ring will help prepare you,” Deborah informed the young woman. “And there’s a few things you need to do as well.”

“What, sorry?” Melissa asked. It was so hard to stop looking at the ring. But if there were things Deborah needed her to do it was important that she paid attention.

“Don’t worry dear,” Deborah sighed, “it will be easier to ignore the ring after a little while. Now. You’ll need to quit your job and terminate your lease. Don’t want any annoying loose ends do we?”

“No, I suppose not.” It made sense, Melissa realised. Mannequins don’t have jobs or places to live.

“And is there anyone who might come looking for you?” Deborah asked, her eyes narrowing.

“Umm, not really. My parents I suppose.” Melissa felt her lips draw tight. She didn’t think her parents would understand her decision. Probably best that they didn’t know. “I don’t talk to them much though.”

Deborah looked relieved. “Yes, that’s what she said,” the older woman mused. Melissa didn’t understand her friend’s comment. She who? Before the young woman could think about it anymore Deborah continued, “Perhaps tell them you have a job in another city.”

Melissa didn’t think she should lie to her parents, but then she looked at the ring again and the deceit no longer seemed important. “Okay,” she said.

“Good,” Deborah beamed, “then everything will be ready for your big day.”

“My big day?” Melissa asked, perplexed.

“Yes, dear,” Deborah sighed, “when you change.”

“Oh, right,” Melissa replied, “Sorry, I should have…” Her voice trailed off. She should have known what Deborah meant. The young woman couldn’t understand why her thoughts seemed to be in such a fog. Maybe it was because she was so deliriously happy.

“I know dear,” Deborah whispered, a hint of playfulness in her voice. “As it will be your big day, what about we make a wedding dress your first outfit as a real mannequin? Let’s choose it together.”

“Oh, oh yes, please,” Melissa’s voice catching in her throat as she cried in happiness. She couldn’t think of any better way to celebrate. She knew the gorgeous dresses the store next door sold. She’d always dreamt of wearing one of them. Something Deborah had never let her do as a pretend mannequin. She’d always wanted a wedding dress of her own. Now she’d have the chance to model one. Maybe not for ever, the young woman knew as a mannequin she’d be moved around amongst the three shops. But she was sure that she’d be wearing it for more than one day.

“Come along then.” Deborah took Melissa by the hand and led her to the bridal shop. Soon the two women were deep in the wedding dress catalogues.

* * *

Melissa wasn’t surprised that her work colleagues noticed her new ring.

“Who’s the lucky guy?” one of them asked.

The young woman simply smiled and replied, “No-one you know.” She knew they wouldn’t understand. Well, maybe Fiona would. Melissa knew that her friend had noticed the ring, the blonde smiling and nodding to herself the first time she saw Melissa with it. But Fiona was one of the few at work who made no comment.

Her boss was sorry to see her go, even offering Melissa a pay rise if she’d change her mind. The young woman politely refused, money of no concern to her anymore.

All that held Melissa back now was waiting for her dress to be ready. She expected that she’d need fittings, but Deborah had told her no.

“Don’t worry about it dear, we know your size. And I’d like it to be something of a surprise when you put it on.

Job gone, Melissa was free to spend her time posing, anxiously anticipating the day that she would no longer be pretending to be a mannequin, but actually, truly, be one.

“You’re looking forward to it aren’t you?,” Julia observed as the young saleswoman posed Melissa on her stand.

The mannequin-to-be allowed herself a little nod.

“I understand,” the strawberry blonde acknowledged, “but perhaps a little less of a grin and a little more of a beguiling smile?”

Ashamed, Melissa schooled her features into something more befitting of one of her idols. After Julia finished posing her the saleswoman made some final adjustments to Melissa’s expression before she was satisfied.

As she stepped down from the stand at the end of the day Deborah said to her, “Your dress will be ready Saturday dear.”

A fleeting notion of worry vanished as she looked at Deborah’s earrings, Melissa almost feeling an answering pulse from the ring on her left hand.

“So, so that’s it then?” Melissa asked. Nervously she licked her lips, not quite able to believe her dreams were that close to coming true.

“Yes dear,” Deborah smiled.

Over the next few days Melissa gave away or sold the last of her possessions. On Friday she closed her bank account. On Saturday she visited Karen’s salon, where Ashleigh did her nails and makeup. Though not before Karen allowed the ash-blonde to lead her out back one last time. Nervously the young beautician stripped her, only Melissa’s heels and blonde wig and jewellery left in place. The waifish blonde rained kisses over Melissa’s body, licking and sucking her nipples, before she knelt in front of the motionless woman.

Melissa could feel the girl’s breath wafting over her privates. She felt so naked, even her pussy had been stripped away. Ashleigh began gently, small licks, the sensation of the girl’s tongue on her labia almost enough to make Melissa forget the pleasure the dildos gave her. Then that tongue was inside her, a series of thrusts alternating with Ashleigh’s lips clamping around her clit, sucking, licking, small nips from her teeth, just hard enough not to be painful. Melissa could feel the quivers running through the young woman’s body as Ashleigh pressed against her legs.

Again and again Melissa was brought to the edge. She could feel it, taste it, it was so close. But the girl knew just when to back off, just how to keep the young woman humming, pleasure roaring and burning and promising. Melissa was sure that her brain would melt. She wanted to thrust her hips at the girl, wanted to bury that tongue in her pussy as far as it would go. Still Ashleigh denied her.

Just when Melissa thought her legs would melt and she’d collapse to the ground Ashleigh’s tongue flicked just that fraction deeper, upper lip caressing her clit. Melissa’s world dissolved in bliss, limbs locking in place as the orgasm howled through her mind. Dimly she was aware of Ashleigh falling away from her, the girl crying out her own passion as she lay on the floor.

Slowly Melissa became aware of her surroundings. She could see Karen, the older woman smiling, a flush on her cheeks. The young woman hadn’t even known salon owner had been there.

After a while Ashleigh recovered herself, cleaned off and dressed Melissa, and led her back out to have her makeup done.

When it was finished Melissa was glued to her reflection. The brown eyeshadow suited the blue of her eyes. Her cheekbones, always good, had been brought out by the darker shades beneath and the lighter highlighter. Her lips were plump and glistening with cherry-red lipstick. She looked perfect.

“Ashleigh will go with you,” Karen announced, “Just in case there’s any little touch-ups needed after you get dressed.”

The girl insisted on carrying the bag with the wig made from Melissa’s hair. That, with the clothes the young woman wore and the money in her purse, was all she now owned. It didn’t matter, mannequins didn’t own anything. She was going to give the money to Deborah. Melissa didn’t have any more use for it, even Karen having refused payment for her appointment at the Salon.

At the bridal store Julia led Melissa and Ashleigh to the storeroom, the young girl trailing silently behind. Melissa’s breath was taken away as she saw the dress that waited for her there, a vision in white and cream.

“Let’s get you ready,” the strawberry blonde saleswoman said, before stripping Melissa out of her clothes. Then Julia proceeded to dress the mannequin-to-be.

First came a pair of frilly white knickers, lacy and high cut, the garment fitting snugly over Melissa’s featureless pussy. Next was a strapless white lacy bustier, matching the panties, Melissa’s breasts pressed up and together. Garters hung down to support the white silk stockings, the material gliding over Melissa’s skin as Julia unrolled them up her legs. Then came four inch heeled white stilettos.

The strawberry blonde paused then, took the time to pose her subject. Melissa’s weight was put on her right foot, left foot set some way apart from it and pointed to the side. Her hips were canted so far to the right, torso curving, that her right forearm could rest on her arse. Julia arranged the blonde hair of her wig so that it cascaded over her shoulders. Melissa’s left hand was raised, holding one strand of the hair away from where it tumbled over the left side of her face. Julia moulded her expression into a smile that said it would follow-through on everything the outfit promised.

“Oh, that’s good,” the strawberry blonde breathed as she admired her handiwork. “We’ll have to pose you like that sometime in the lingerie shop.”

The saleswoman didn’t wait for a reply, “But now we need to get you dressed.” She turned to where the wedding dress waited on a mannequin. A very boring and normal mannequin, Melissa noted, it didn’t even have a head or arms. Makes it easier to get the dress on and off I suppose.

“Ashleigh, give me a hand here,” Julia ordered. Together the two women removed the dress from the mannequin.

The dress was a vision in lace and organza and satin. It was strapless, with a gently curving neckline that exposed the tops of the breasts. The bodice was embroidered lace, pulling in to a tight waist. From there the softly gathered skirt spread out in waves, lace and organza over satin, scattered appliques matching the designs on the bodice. There was even a chapel train, extending just over a foot behind the dress. Even though she’d never worn it before the dress fitted Melissa perfectly, the hem just reaching to the floor as she stood there in her four inch heels. It was exquisite and sophisticated and everything she’d ever wanted.

“Now just stand there while Ashleigh fixes you up.” Julia instructed.

At the signal the petite beautician pulled over a crate then deftly climbed up so she could reach Melissa’s face. She artfully arranged Melissa’s silky blonde wig and repaired a few tiny smudges. There weren’t many, but Ashleigh was meticulous.

Then the two women led her to the front of the shop, where Melissa noticed a ‘Closed’ sign hung over the door.

Two people waited for her on the floor of the shop, Deborah and, to her surprise, her friend Fiona. Beyond them she could see the empty display window. Melissa knew that soon she’d be occupying that space.

The young woman couldn’t hide her surprise at her friend’s presence. The dirty blonde was wearing a bridesmaid’s dress, deep blue with a neckline that matched Melissa’s dress. Its waist line also matched the bridal gown but where the skirt on Melissa’s dress billowed out, Fiona’s gathered skirt fell more or less straight to the floor.

Deborah smiled, obviously sensing Melissa’s confusion, “I thought it might be nice for you to have a friend here.”

The young woman swallowed nervously, “Does, does she know?” Melissa couldn’t stop her voice rising in panic. She couldn’t believe that Deborah had told Fiona what was going to happen. Julia, even Ashleigh, would know. But Fiona wouldn’t, her friend wouldn’t understand, might try to stop what was happening. She didn’t want Fiona to interfere.

“Of course she does dear,” Deborah replied.

Melissa’s anxiety quieted but her confusion remained. She glanced anxiously at her friend. Fiona grinned back, and waved at her encouragingly

“Just a few last things before we begin,” said Deborah. “Melissa, if you could remove your pendant and give it back to the one who gave it to you.”

The young woman’s hand jumped to her chest, where she could feel her blue-gemmed pendant nestling in her cleavage. It was the last thing of her own that she still had. Carefully she undid the clasp. The one who gave it to me? she frowned. Oh, of course Melissa thought, then handed the pendant to Fiona. It was her friend who had given her the pendant for her last birthday. For a moment Melissa wondered how she had forgotten that.

Then Julia stepped forward and Melissa’s pendant was replaced with another, much larger, piece of jewellery. The blue sapphire pendant that she recognised from all the times she’d seen it on the mannequins in the bridal shop’s window. Well that makes sense. Looking down she noticed how it matched the ring that she wore.

“Melissa,” Deborah’s commanding voice grabbed Melissa’s attention, made her focus on the older woman, “Do you want to be a mannequin, motionless, elegant, never aging, never changing?”

No-one had told Melissa how to reply, but she knew, “I do.”

“To be mine, to pose and display as I see fit?”

“I do,” the young woman breathed.

“Melissa, do you promise to give up your humanity, to be my possession, a figure of beauty for me to own.”

“I do,” Melissa cried, tears of joy barely held back, only her determination not to ruin her make up stopping them.

“And in turn I promise to care for you, watch over you, to use and display you, for as long as I live,” Melissa could feel the force of Deborah’s words. The older woman began to chant. Melissa didn’t recognise the language but she thought it sounded vaguely Welsh.

If anyone had looked into the shop from outside they would have seen four women, somewhat mismatched, admiring a beautiful figure in an exquisite wedding dress.

Inside the shop Melissa could feel the back of her neck prickling. If she’d had any hair left she knew it would have been standing on end. She could feel something, some power, beginning to swirl around the room, centring on the spot midway between her and Deborah. Faster and faster it spun as the saleswoman chanted. Melissa could feel it moving to focus on her. It was pulling in, tighter and tighter about her. The force whipped around her, so fast, that it should have pulled her dress apart, ripped the wig off her head. But nothing moved, despite what she could feel.

There was a light in Deborah’s eyes, her hands raised to the heavens. Her chanting reached a peak, then stopped, as the force touched Melissa’s skin.

Deborah fell silent and Melissa wondered what was supposed to happen next. Then she felt it. Beginning at her toes, then her feet, flowing up her legs she could feel her body changing. Stiffening, her control of it vanishing. As it reached the tops of her legs she felt the vinyl panties merging with her skin. She knew that there was no discernible edge now, her pussy truly as smooth and featureless as all the other special mannequins. The feeling rose higher, through her belly. It reached her breasts and she could feel the weight of them, nothing more than beautifully shaped artificial orbs now. She knew when her areola vanished, replaced by coloured circles, felt her nipples shrink and turn into the smaller buds that she knew so well.

Her breath hitched, one last time, before her lungs ceased to function and her heart ceased to beat. The feeling was rushing faster now, over her upper chest, her shoulders and neck, the change in her arms unnoticed. It was racing to her brain before oxygen deprivation claimed her.

She could feel her cheeks and mouth freeze up. This was it.

I’m a mannequin. I’m a mannequin, I’m a ma… Then she felt nothing more.

“Oh wow,” breathed Fiona.

If Melissa could still have seen anything, been anything more than a beautiful mannequin, she would have been amazed that she was not been the only one who’d changed. Hers had been the most dramatic transformation but not the most noticeable. In her elegant wedding dress you still had to look twice to realise that Melissa was now just an object. At first glance she looked little different than she had moments ago.

Fiona, on the other hand, had undergone a much more obvious change. The young woman rushed over to one of the mirrors to examine herself. Her dirty blonde hair was now paler, finer. Her face had changed. She could still recognise herself, but Fiona couldn’t deny that she was much prettier, her features more symmetric, more elegant. Not quite to the level of Deborah or Julia, or even Melissa, but definitely an improvement.

“Satisfied?” she heard Deborah ask.

Fiona turned back to the older saleswoman and smiled, “Oh yeah.”

She could see the difference in Deborah as well. Where the woman had looked mid-thirties before, now she looked barely thirty, lines gone from her face, complexion clearer. None of it surprised Fiona, she’d been told what would happen.

“Good,” Deborah pronounced, “but now you have to find your second if you are to take your place with us. Perhaps Ashleigh.” She grinned evilly in the girl’s direction.

The young beautician backed away, her hands raised to ward off the threat, face a mask of horror. “No, no, please.”

“Don’t worry you silly girl,” Deborah teased, “Karen would never forgive me.” She turned back to Fiona, the girl forgotten. “Do you have anyone in mind?”

“Well,” Fiona said thoughtfully, “there’s a cousin who’d probably come visit me if I asked. She doesn’t have much to do with the rest of the family, so I doubt she’d be missed. And she’s pretty.” The young woman retrieved her phone from her handbag. “What do you think?” She asked passing the device to the older saleswoman.

Deborah examined the image on the phone, Julia peering inquisitively over her shoulder. “Oh yes,” Deborah said at last, “She’ll do nicely. Just give her the pendant and make sure she comes by the shop a few times. Who knows, if you can get her here soon enough Melissa may still be in the window.” She handed the phone back to Fiona.

“Speaking of which,” Julia interjected, indicating the motionless figure in the bridal gown.

“Oh yes, we’d better get her in place and the get the shop back open. Give me a hand will you? Ashleigh, pick up her train.”

Carefully the women manoeuvred Melissa’s unmoving figure into the display window. A bouquet of white roses was placed in her hands, clasped in front of her. After a little attention from Deborah to her expression and some final touchup of her makeup from Ashleigh Melissa smiled out on the world, her expression that delightful mix of anxiety and anticipation that so many brides show.

“Oh yes,” Deborah observed, giving the frozen figure a final once over, “you make a perfect mannequin.”

(The end)