© Copyright 2019 - PoseMe - Used by permission
Storycodes: Solo-M; M2f; transform; lycra; store; mannequin; mind-control; pose; lingerie; suits; gloss; display; stand; public; cons; X
The front door to the apartment opens, letting in the only light to the darkened rooms. The relatively tall woman steps in, hanging her purse on a hook with a half dozen others just like it but of different color. She drops her keys on the table and heads to the right to the fridge. Pulling it open, she grabs a bottle of water. Snapping off the lid, she tilts it up and begins to empty it into her mouth.
As she downs the drink, we take a look at her attire, which seems mismatched. She has a lycra skirt that goes down to her ankles, giving her a more formal look. It looks very stretchy, following her every move but also quite tight. Her lycra tank top gives her the look that she just left the gym, showing off her fit arms, tight stomach, and cleavage to spare. Finally, her shoes resemble a flip-flop, giving her a very casual appearance. As to colors, everything matches perfectly, so she obviously planned it that way, but her style seems odd to say the least.
Finishing the water, she drops it in the trash and heads to the bedroom. Crossing that threshold, she begins stripping, not even bothering with the lights. Her lycra-ware slides off easily, finding itself being pitched near the clothes hamper. She does not seem to notice, as she moves to a strange looking workout bench.
Straddling it, she positions herself on it like riding a motorcycle. Laying on her belly, she careful inserts her breasts into the holes on the cushioned bench. Resting her head down into the hollow end, she pushes the start button on the side. With a quiet hum, the “workout” bench vibrates as she repositions her feet and hands on the sides. Looking closely, you can see her body sinking down into the bench for a few seconds, only to rise back up. With no other fanfare, she sits up.
From her silhouette, we know she is missing something now. Her chest is now flat, completely flat. As she stands up, her waist is not so tight, her sultry curves now gone. But most surprising is the added weight, just below her waist. It looks like she has… “Man, I need a beer,” comes the deep voice, “Hope the game is still on.” Removing the long hair, he or she drops the wig onto the chair by the bed, revealing a clean shaven head.
Walking out of the bedroom, he pushes the answering machine button. As it processes that, he grabs two beers from the fridge. Opening one with his mouth, he spits the cap into the garbage with the water bottle. As he passes the machine he hears, “message one: (male voice) Oschianna, don’t forget we are at O’Mulligans if you wanna come.” Smiling, he mumbles, “Not in your lifetime, sleazeball.”
“msg 2: (female voice) Patton, your 9 o’clock canceled tomorrow, so your first session is as 9:30. Bye!” Smiling again, he says, “Great! An extra hour of sleep.”
“msg 3: (male voice) Yo, Pat, it’s Rog! Call me, bud. It’s been forever.”I know it, miss you too Roger-buddy, he thinks.
“msg 4: (female voice) Hey, Pat, it’s me, Shirley. I just wanted to see if your alimony check could be a couple of days early. I hate to ask, because you have somehow managed to make your payments every month now and it has been great stability for the kids. I know I appreciate it, so if you can’t, I understand. (long pause) Thanks.”
With TV blaring now, Patton can only think on that last message. Why do I hate someone that I still love so much?Finishing his first beer, he pops the next top off and watches another score by the opposing team. Glad I did not bet on this one, he thinks. Course, I would not have bet on me either a couple of years ago.
After the divorce, he had to pay alimony like all men, but his golf pro job was not enough. For him, it is the dream job: play a round of golf Saturday morning, teach rich people to play all day, wrap up the day with another round, then come home and repeat on Sunday. “Take the rest of the week off,” he whispers with satisfaction. But then the alimony amount kept going up, as his lawyer had to pay his own alimony through his court cases. Patton was stuck paying 3 times the normal amount, but he was locked in now. As much as he hated having a higher payment, he would do anything for his kids…anything!
That was good, because he needed another job. There were none to be found and that first big payment was coming quick. There were ads for humannequins but only female openings. The pay out was huge (how could you make so much for doing so little?), but how could he work that? His buddy in the visual arts business sold him a Transgendinator for basically nothing (a year supply of golf lessons). With some quick modifications, Patton became Ochsianna of Russia (he really did not like the whole Russian thing, but the machine alters his voice, giving him a slight Russian accent).
The Transgendinator makes a woman out of a man, and vice versa. It will add female breasts, shift the hips slightly as it removes and stores the man’s unit, while slimming the waist and face. The process is mostly painless, but not quite. So, Patten uses it Monday morning and stays Ochsianna all week. On Friday night, she becomes Patton for the weekend. His cover story matches well enough for the not-so-nosy neighbors: Patton and Ochsianna live together as a couple. Their jobs have alternating shifts, so you rarely (actually never) see them together.
He must have drifted off thinking about it all, because the room is getting brighter from the sun rising. Checking the clock in the kitchen, “6 already?” rubbing his bald head, he rushes to get a quick shower.
Exiting the bathroom, he dresses in polo and khakis. He adds a crew cut wig, applying some added scalp glue to hold it tight. Picking up the gold bag and hat, Patton heads out the door, ignoring the keys on the table, but grabbing another set hanging on the opposite wall. Down the lift 8 floors, he strides out to his car. Popping the trunk, the golf bag is in and he is on the road within seconds.
Like every Saturday and Sunday, he enjoys every part of the weekend. He gets to play 4 rounds of golf for free in Holo-golf Tower. Each floor is filled with many rooms, allowing paying customers to play any course they want in history in any weather. You bring real clubs and the Holo-golf Tower does the rest. Since it is so realistic, you still need a golf pro to help you out, leaving Patten with the best job in the world. Unfortunately, it is probably the least paying job as well, which led him down the road to modeling clothes for big retail stores.
* * *
Monday morning dawns almost too quickly, leaving Patten standing in front of the mirror again. “See ya, dude,” saying to himself, as he steps over to the Transgendinator. Straddling it, he lays down on it. Pressing the start buttons, he quickly (if not moderately painfully) becomes Ochsianna. Sitting up, he does a quick check to be sure he has what she is supposed to and missing what he is not. Satisfied, she gets dressed in her usual lycra attire.
Grabbing her matching purse to fit the pink lycra ankle-length skirt, lycra tank-top, and flats, she heads out the door, leaving the car keys and grabbing the scooter ones. Since she has next to nothing to bring to work, she rides a small electric scooter. It has a small bench-type seat, so nothing to worry on her skirt. The helmet stores in that seat, which makes it handy.
Reaching the scooter, she realizes what she forgot: her wig. Rubbing her bald head, she closes her eyes in frustration. Not again, she thinks, switching hair is killing me. I am glad the pills help keep my hair in check, Ochsianna thinks, I wouldn’t want to go back to having Patten shaving everything, everyday. But, she breathes a heavy sigh, it is one more thing I have to keep up with. Rushing back up the stairs, hoping she is not seen in the early hours, she grabs her shoulder length blonde wig. Setting it on her head, she slides the organic magnets in it to “glue” it to her head.
Within a few minutes, she is driving slowly through traffic, her blonde hair flowing from under her helmet. It takes many minutes in this traffic, but she arrives at the Clothes For You store on time. The 7 story building houses one of the largest selections of men’s, women’s, and children’s clothes in the country. She parks underneath in the employee section. Checking her hair in the mirror and stowing her helmet, she strides into the basement.
She does not even make it to her locker before her supervisor stops her. “Ochs, I need you in lingerie immediately.” Her frown is replaced with a smug grin, “Good morning to you, too, Betsy.” Betsy has been her supervisor since she started working here. Most people moved up or out by now, but Betsy was so hopelessly average in her looks and performance, that she cannot move anywhere. In fact, the average salary keeps her locked in with all of her other debt. Ochsianna would make a comment, but she has no room to talk when it comes to money.
“Sorry, Ochs,” she stopped, smiled and said, “Good morning.” But before Ochsianna could reply, she continues, “Ming called in sick, so I got Lyn to cover for her, but…”
“she does not come in until 10,” Ochsianna finishes the statement.
Betsy nods and continues, “Our VP is coming through this morning, and he knows what is supposed to be in there. If he shows up without a humannequin, I’m dead.”
Ochsianna knew how mean and ruthless Mr Baxter was and his son (another corporate person in the company) was a pervert in his own regard. “Okay, Betsy, what do you need.” Ochsianna did not phrase that in a question, it was a simple statement.
Betsy laughed saying, “Thanks, Ochs, I owe you.” Handing her a bag of lingerie, she went on to tell her that there was no time to get her glossed up – she would have to go as is.
Ochsianna tried to protest, but Betsy was already helping her out of her clothes. “Look,” she explained, “You just have to hold your pose from 8:30 to about 9. He will not stay longer. You just do your whole self-hypno thing and we are good.”
Ochsianna had gotten lazy in the past few months, enjoying the “glossing.” The thin coating that made her skin look glossy, helped hold her up and in pose. The self-hypno just let her “sleep” during the dull parts of the day. “I don’t know Betsy,” she protested, “He is going to know that something is wrong.”
Betsy had basically stripped Ochsianna in the employee hallway, redressing her in electric blue silk panties. The corset was also electric blue with thin black vertical stripes, running from her waist up to covering her chest (well, half covered). The electric corset zipper was halfway up, tightening Ochsianna’s movement and breathing before she realized it. Betsy was still talking while putting on the elbow length gloves. Ochsianna had stopped listening, knowing her fate was sealed already. How can I be the man all weekend, and just an object the other 5 days?
Her dream world was broken up when she heard, “Step on it.” Shaking her head, she saw Betsy motioning to the mannequin mover. The mannemover (as they called it) was a motorized pedestal for transporting mannequins. It was rarely used on humannequins, since they can walk themselves to their spots. Seeing her pause, Betsy explained, “The store is already open on that level, so you will have to be transported into your spot.” Seeing little way out, she stepped on the mannemover. It adjusted for her, then as programmed, the ankle cuffs extended locking her onto the moving platform.
“Ok,” Betsey finally said, “Give me a pose then away you go. The mannemover will drive right into your pedestal spot and elevate you to the top. You won’t have to move off it.”
Ochsianna asked, “Now, if he really pushes to see if I’m not properly finished, do I break down and tell the truth?”
Betsey gasped at that, “Oh no no, stay in character no matter what. We gotta make it through this.” You mean, Ochsianna says to herself, you gotta get through this.
Bending one leg slightly, which shifted one of her hips forward, she places one hand on her waist extending her elbow out. She bends the other arm like she is blowing a kiss. Adding a fake smile and a slight absent expression, Ochsianna looks more mannequin-like. “Thanks,” Betsy says, then, “Mannemover: program #342.” With a series of beeps and clicks, the mannemover begins rolling to the lingerie department.
As she moves, Ochsianna begins her mental exercises. From her weeks of training and months as an employee, she mentally commands her muscles to seize up, freezing in place. With controlled breathing, her entire body “hardens” into a mannequin-like state. As that process continues, the mannemover rolls out onto the showroom floor.
Ochsianna can smell the new clothing and furniture. The hint of perfume and cologne with shoes and boots and an underlying sporting goods flavor round out her nose’s radar. She does not have to worry about driving, so she can focus on her exercises. Within seconds, her body no longer wants to move, her breathing shallow. As the lingerie comes into view, she begins her mental preparation.
Following the course training, she starts to shut down parts of her brain. The room gets more silent as her hearing drops to 25%. Her sense of smell nearly goes completely away, with her sight reduced to 60%. Her sense of touch falls to nearly half, but hopes to move that down even more. Now, her brain is not really shutting down. You can think of it as ignoring input. In ignoring input, the brain sort of rests. The only part she does not like is the subliminal messages put into her. Because at some point her brain, just --- “I like to show off clothing.” Ochsianna feels her will slipping away --- “I am a mannequin” --- as her training takes over. “I want everyone to see me in my new clothes. I don’t ever want to move.” As the list goes on, Ochsianna’s face loses more life from it, as she pales slightly and has a more fake expression.
Her mobile pedestal continues its path to the lingerie department. It has a basic floor plan in its memory, so finding its spot is as easy as point and click for the user. Stopping on cue in the lingerie department, it elevates slightly putting the new mannequin on the right height as all mannequins in the store. Ted, the daytime lingerie guy (which would be the perfect job for a guy if he wasn’t gay), walks over to Ochs. He tugs on her gloves, straightening them slightly. He pushes part of her hair back from her face. He walks around her, checking the rest of her outfit. Satisfied, he touches the “finish” button, which causes the leg cuffs to release back into the mannemover. A second rod with a curved shape top appears under her extending up between her legs. Ted gently pulls her panties aside as it slides past his hand to provide some support under her. The panties have a slight notch in them, allowing them to flap around the pole. Ted expertly handles it without feeling any excitement and manages a dull sigh as he steps away.
Ochsianna fails to really notice the company vice president, his son, and entourage enter the department. All of his big, fancy words ended up as white noise to her. He gestured to her and the other mannequins, including the display items. The “tour” group enjoyed the display, especially his son. Desmond loved women. Desmond loved mannequins. Desmond loved women as helpless mannequins.
While his dad carried on, Desmond was able to stand near Ochsianna. His eyes darted to her curves and features while pretending to pay attention. With slow movements, he positions his hand on her butt. Ochsianna’s concentration is momentarily interrupted. hmmm, she thinks, I thought I felt… I love to show off clothes. Her mind begins to hibernate again. Not moving his arm yet, Desmond begins to squeeze her butt, taking in the firm, warm touch of her statuesque pose. Again, Ochsianna is interrupted. Ok, she determines, someone is definitely touching… I am a mannequin. He removes his hand as one of the group members turns. The lack of his touch allows Ochsianna’s training to win, so she hibernates again, unaware of what he had done.
The group moves on, leaving the department quiet. This early in the morning on a Monday is rather slow. Ochsianna and the other real (well, actually fake) mannequins stand guard in this part of the store. Occasionally, Ted will walk around straightening items he just straightened a few minutes ago.
Betsy walks up to lingerie with Lyn in tow. “Okay,” she says pointing to Ochsianna, “This is what you will be wearing.”
Lyn looks is up and down. “Hmm, I am not sure it will fit me.”
Betsy gives her a quizzical look. “Sure, it will,” she says confidently, “You and Ochs are the same size, except she is taller than you.”
Ochsianna knows Lyn, and she does everything she can to complain and get out of things she does not like. Normally, Ochsianna can keep Lyn from “cheating” but she is not participating in this conversation. Within a few seconds, Lyn has manipulated Betsy enough to get herself out of lingerie for the day. And for good measure, she has convinced Betsy to leave Ochsianna there all day. Now, do not judge Lyn too harshly. None of the girls like to work lingerie or swimming departments: men are just too touchy.
At her lunch break, the mannemover reactivates, driving Ochsianna back to the dressing rooms. The mannemover stops at “home” and plugs in to recharge. She stands there, motionless but for her shallow breathing for another 5 minutes. At that point, an automatic whistle sounds at just the right frequency, bringing her out of her trance. Stretching her tight muscles, Ochsianna says, “Oh man, I feel like I have been like that all day.” Looking up at the clock, she notices the time. Rubbing her shoulder, she steps down, “Lunch? I was supposed to be pulled out hours ago.” She starts looking around for Betsy, when she sees a familiar mannequin headed back out. Lyn sports a business suit, quite conservative and comfortable, as she is wheeled out into the main department area. Her smug smile just burns Ochsianna. “Why that little –“
“Ah, Ochs,” says a male voice from behind, “how are you?” She turns around to see Neal walking up to her. He is a tall, handsome man with broad shoulders. His casual wear looks fantastic on him. She curses herself for having those thoughts. I have tried to turn down the hormones in the machine, Ochsianna thinks, but I cannot seem to lower them enough. And my self-hypno doesn’t help either, she adds. “Hey, Neal, what’s up?”
He comes up to her, gives her a hug, and a light peck on the cheek. “You look fabulous today.”
His big eyes just look right through you, Ochsianna feels a warmness inside her, like she could melt into his arms. The little testosterone still in her body kicks in, shaking her from that. “Oh, thanks, but this is not my style.” Before he can answer, she adds, “I really like what you have on though.”
He steps back, spreading out both hands. “Yeah, the business-casual department is the best.”
I know, she grumbles, which is why Lyn’s maneuver was so mean.
Her silence mistaken, he says, “Well, I will let you get some lunch, catch you later.” She contains her sadness and happiness as he goes, just waving and smiling at him.
The next few days go as usual. She gets her actual spot, spending it in business-casual. Neal is just out of her vision, modeling the same outfit each day. Her business-casual wear fits fine, but the pose she has to hold causes her bra to leave a mark on her shoulder. But at least she has been glossed each day, making her stiffness at the end of the day much less. However, Friday was coming and an event that will not be what she would want.
story continues in Part Two