Preface

My name is Monica. This story began during spring break of my junior year in college. My college was a private college located in a relatively small town in the Pacific Northwest. The spring break during my junior year was unusual in that it was a month long. The college had decided to try this month-long spring break in order to give students the option to participate in longer, more directed study opportunities. It was so popular that the college has continued the program in the years since my graduation.

College was a wonderful experience for me in a number of ways. I grew up in a very small town in Washington state, only a few miles from the Canadian border. The enrollment at my college was 2,400 and even though this was a "small" college, it seemed huge to me. My high school only had 350 students. The first two years were rough, but things began to turn around during my Junior year when I moved into a twelve girl fraternity house just off campus.

One of the more popular Spring Break activities was to do a frat houses trade with another college in another part of the country. For the participants, it was an opportunity to live in another part of the country for a week’s time. A group of guys in a frat house on campus, traded with a college in Florida. Our guys got to spend spring break on the beach in Florida, while the Florida guys spent the month skiing at Schwitzer, Bachelor and Whistler. A true win-win situation! This story involves an unusual spring break trade for our frat house that started as a lark and has ended up a tradition. As you will see, I had a specific purpose in writing it. I hope you’ll find it intriguing!

Our frat house had four bedrooms with each bedroom holding three girls. Our arrangement to share cooking and housekeeping duties worked just about all the time. We had a lot of fun together with very little petty arguments that can plague these arrangements.

Our frat house was an old three-story house with two bedrooms on each of the top two floors and the kitchen and living room on the bottom floor. My room was on the top floor. I roomed with Dina and Mary. Dina was a sweetheart. She was blonde with a beautiful innocent face. Although she was getting a 3.7 in finance, her main goal was to get married and have kids. She was probably my best friend.

Mary was a different story. I both loved and hated Mary. She was very outgoing and loved to plan parties. This was good except that her love for planning extended to all of our personal lives. She loved to give unsolicited advice on boyfriends, sex, clothes, diet and school—in short, just about everything. The diet advice was a bit ironic since Mary was a tall sandy-blonde who obviously ate when she was stressed. Mary loved to gossip and knew everything about your personal life, but rarely shared anything about her own.

When the frat house environment annoyed Dina and me, we went to the library to study or absorbed ourselves in work. Dina worked as a reader for the chair of the finance department and I worked as a bookkeeper for a local accounting firm. My work was a good fit with my accounting major and good preparation for taking the CPA exam as soon as I graduated.

Mary worked for Trundle’s, the town’s only department store. Trundle’s was part of a small regional chain of department stores and Mary worked as an assistant to the director of visual merchandising. Mary’s boss, Lydia Hamilton, lived in Seattle and was responsible for visual merchandising at all of the Trundle’s stores in eastern Washington. With Lydia rarely in town, Mary was in charge and it suited her well.

Initially I had to ask what "visual merchandising" was. Mary explained it in grand terms—"the visual ambiance of the retail setting that can be a major factor in influencing the buyer to make large purchases." Dina was a little more cynical—"Mary spends her day dressing window dummies!"

Mary had started the job during her freshman year. At that time she was a marketing major. Since then she added an additional major in fashion design. In Mary’s mind, the two majors and her current job would take her to future prominence in the retail industry. It was probably a good fit.

As with everything else in her life, Mary involved us all in her job. The previous September, the store was having a back-to-school promotion. During the promotion, Dina, myself and two other girls from our frat, spent two Saturdays working as living mannequins in the store.

Mary had seen living mannequins on a weekend trip to Seattle, but didn’t have the budget to pay for professionals. So we worked for two days to get a 25% discount on our purchases. It was tedious work, but I guess it was worth it. The only drawback was having to wear exactly what Mary wanted you to wear. In my case it was a much shorter skirt than I would ever wear on my own.

Another time, Mary needed some leg models for an ad in the local newspaper for pantyhose. She picked Anita and Karen, two other frat girls, and arranged for them to get $200 each for getting their pictures taken wearing just their pantyhose. When the ad came out in the paper, someone clipped it out and hung it on the kitchen wall. The two girls were a little embarrassed, but shouldn’t have been. The ad only showed them from their waist down, no one could ever recognize them.

Dina asked Mary why she didn’t choose her two roommates for the ad and she gave the direct type of response that we’d learn to expect from Mary—"your legs are too short, don’t be silly." It hurt a little, but she was probably right. I was 5’2" and Dina was a little taller at 5’3". Our similar height was an advantage in that we could trade clothes. Our tastes were similar and Dina was like the sister I never had. And we both knew that legs weren’t our real asset—the real asset would be our busts, each of us with a well-proportioned "C" cup.

Mary’s boss, Lydia, liked the pantyhose ad so much that she used it in other towns where Trundle’s had stores. Lydia arranged for the two girls to get an extra $200. Initially I didn’t mind that Mary overlooked me for the ad, but I sure could’ve used the money.

With the background set, let me tell you the real story. In January of my Junior year, Mary came home one night requesting that we all meet with Lydia when she was in town the next Tuesday. Lydia wanted us to all come by the store after closing time. At that time she would tell us about a unique opportunity for an exchange program at spring break. We had to all promise to attend.

Mary worked hard to get all of us to attend and we eventually all agreed. It was hard to say no to Mary. Another selling point was to get to meet Lydia. Mary had often told us about Lydia. She was a unique woman—in her 60s but looking like she was in her 30s. Mary described her as having a dark complexion and being into all sorts of new age and unique religious beliefs.

The next Tuesday, when we all met Lydia for the first time, we were not disappointed. Lydia was incredibly beautiful, but she had a look of age and experience in her eyes. She also looked extremely confident and even a little overpowering. She was dressed impeccably in the latest fashion. I had a nagging feeling that you would never want to get on Lydia’s bad side.

Without even introducting herself or asking us our names—in fact, without even speaking—Lydia motioned us to follow her into the main store. The main lights were turned off and only a few low safety lights along the floor enabled us to walk without stumbling.

Lydia stopped in front of two female mannequins, elegantly dressed in a sharp business suit. "Ladies, meet Stephanie and Lisa."

There was a long pause. Dina spoke her usual cynicism, a little reserved, "but these are . . . mannequins."

"Good observation, Dina." A few eyebrows raised trying to figure out how Lydia knew Dina’s name when they hadn’t been introduced.

Lydia continued, "Dina is absolutely right, these are mannequins. However, they are not totally without life. I have channeled into their souls and have found evidence of their spirit. They are anxious to experience the life that you have taken for granted and I can make that happen."

You could have heard a pin drop anywhere in the store. Normally I would have thought Lydia was just crazy, but in this case her confidence and demeanor somehow gave me no reason to doubt that she was speaking the truth.

Dina spoke, "H – H – How can this be true?"

"Dina, don’t ask how, just know that it is," Lydia commanded in a serious tone. "As a part of my own life journey, some years back I visited with a woman in Louisiana who taught me to be in touch with the universe that surrounds us. She taught me to communicate with the souls of things I previously thought were objects that would have no souls. As I learned more from this woman, I learned ways to identify which objects had life and ways to give them temporary access to life and relief from their situation."

I glanced around our group to see eleven wide-eyes girls. The remaining girl, Mary, seemed relaxed. She must’ve heard this before.

"Even if this could possibly be true. Why are you telling us all this?" questioned Anita, a perky blonde Sophomore that lived downstairs.

"Because they need you." When Lydia said the word "they" she waved her arm about to signify ALL the mannequins in the store. She then went on to explain, "Here’s what you can do for them. I have found that I can give them one month of life. One month to experience the real world. One month to touch, taste and feel the pleasures of life."

Anita impatiently retorted, "Again, what does this have to do with us?"

"It has everything to do with you, honey. In order for them to be free for a month, someone has to take their place here in the store."

"You are freaky, lady," blurted Cindy, a dark haired Senior from New York with the reputation for being a little mouthy. "Even if we could—and that’s a big IF—be mannequins for a month, why would we ever do such a thing. This is stupid!"

Lydia then zoomed in on Cindy, addressing her by name just as she did Dina. "Cindy, there is something in it for you. I know that you regularly work out because you worry that you’ll end up inheriting your mother’s thighs. I also know that you’ve pondered getting your breasts enlarged sometime after you graduate. For the one month here in the store you will take on the perfect body of the mannequin you replace. Your body will be perfectly toned and perfectly shaped. The muscle tone will last for at least a year and some parts of the new shape—like breasts—will always be with you."

Suddenly the group was interested. Cindy couldn’t respond. "Did I speak the truth Cindy?"

"Y – Y – Yes, I guess you did." The girls couldn’t remember a time when Cindy had been this speechless.

Lydia looked to the rest of the group. "This is a simple request. All you have to do is report to me at the beginning of spring break and I’ll find the mannequins with life in them and you’ll trade places for one month. During that time they’ll move into your frat house and live like real women. You’ll be safely here in the store. Mary will see that your mannequin bodies are well taken care of.

I wasn’t going to say a word. This was all too unreal for me. But, the idea of longer legs did appeal to me. I might be interested. I started wondering what the others were thinking.

"At the end of the month, you’ll be returned to your human form with stronger, shapelier, firmer bodies. Obviously this is your choice. If you would prefer not to do it, or you’ve already made other plans, just say no. You also must understand that I can’t use everyone. Your body must be somewhat similar to a mannequin’s to begin with."

Even though it was hard to believe that this was true, my mind still wandered over the possibilities. What would it be like to be a mannequin? Would you be conscious during the month? Wouldn’t it be incredibly boring? Could it give me longer legs?

"The only other thing I ask is that you never, and I mean NEVER, speak of this to anyone else. This is regardless of whether or not you choose to participate. Believe me that I will know if you talk and you might find yourself permanently standing here like Stephanie or Lisa."

"I’ve studied each of you in light of the mannequins in the store and the only ones I can’t use at this time are Rena and Terri." Lydia then directed here attention toward Rena and Terri. I think we all knew why Rena and Terri were being singled out. Rena was incredibly short at 4’10" tall, she had a tough time finding clothes to fit her that weren’t from the kids section. Terri was a little plump. We never knew for sure, but the guess was that Terri weighed over 200 pounds. "Girls, I’m sorry, I might could use you in the future. Terri, if you could lose some weight and just be a little thinner, this could be a great opportunity for you to have a great body. Rena, I’m really sorry, but you’re just too short. I could probably use you in the junior section but you really wouldn’t get a benefit."

"The rest of you need to make a decision. I’d like your answer by noon tomorrow. Mary can answer any questions you might have and she can give me your answers. Once I have your answer I’d like to meet with you individually at the store to determine which mannequin you’ll replace. That’s all for today."

With that last comment, Lydia walked back to her office without saying another word.

We didn’t get back to the frat house until 11:30 p.m. and no one went straight to bed. Janine and Helen both immediately opted out. Janine was scheduled to go to the Baja for a science class and Helen just wasn’t sure about the whole idea. To a person, the girls believed that this was true and that Lydia could for sure make this happen. It was also comforting to know that Mary would be alive and working during spring break and could watch over us when we were in such a vulnerable state.

Linda brought out the issue of having some strangers occupy our frat house. Again we were assured to know that Mary could be around to watch over things. Rena and Terri also agreed to stay around to make sure everything worked as planned.

I remembered my experience as a living mannequin during the back-to-school promotion. Despite the uniqueness of the situation it was kind of fun. I liked wearing the latest clothes and being perceived as a "model"—that alone was something to be proud of. I was just curious enough to be positive.

Mary continued to reassure us that Lydia could be trusted. Mary also said that we could choose to opt out after our one-on-one visit with Lydia. We would sign a contract at that visit and could not opt out after that.

With Mary’s assurances on our minds, the remaining six of us decided to go ahead and do it. We would become mannequins.

True to experience and anticipation, my individual visit with Lydia was unusual. I was the first of the six to meet with her. I didn’t really know what to expect, but I thought she might spend some time measuring my body or I wondered whether she might experiment with some mannequin poses. I thought she might ask me which department I preferred.

Instead, she asked me to sit down in a chair in her office. She then came around behind me and put her hands on my head. "Please be still and don’t talk," she said. "I’m feeling the make-up of your soul."

This is strange, I thought. She then asked me some questions about my measurements and sizes—height, shoe size, dress size, waist, hips, bra size, etc.

"I like you Monica," a personal opinion that kind of surprised me. "You are pretty and your inner soul is even prettier. You have a good, smart, analytical mind, but you’ve never been comfortable with your body." She spoke as if she knew everything about me and was telling my fortune. "Is this true, Monica?"

"I guess," was my timid response.

"I think we can change that. Come and walk with me through the store, Monica."

Lydia walked to my left and held my left hand gently with both her hands. We stopped at each of the mannequin displays. "I’m trying to feel which mannequin is most compatible with you, Monica. The decision will be based on two things, the connection between your souls and your body match."

In the lingerie department we stopped in front of a mannequin clad only in a bra and panties. I hadn’t really thought about the distinct possibility that I’d could end up spending a month wearing just my underwear. I didn’t want to think of this option.

Next we stopped at a point in the hosiery section where I didn’t see a mannequin. Lydia’s eyes remained closed as if she was on a direct line to the soul of an inanimate object. Then I noticed that we were standing front of a display rack that had two upside down pantyhose forms sitting on top.

"These are mannequins?" I interrupted Lydia.

"Yes," was the reply. "Some of them have souls, others do not."

"But we can’t be this type of mannequin . . . they don’t have a full body."

"It can be done, Monica. The soul doesn’t need a full body. In fact all of you will have removable arms and legs. Rest assured that nothing would be permanent."

This thought startled me. In my mind I tried to review any other portions of bodies that we encountered on our tour.

Once we were back in Lydia’s office, I asked if she had decided which department I would go to. "No my dear, today I collect information. I will feel the right decision on your first day."

Lydia then asked me to sign a contract. She did point out a clause in the contract that spelled out the penalty for speaking about this experience to anyone outside my frat group. The penalty was to be a mannequin for life. Lydia’s serious tone led me to believe that she really could enforce the penalty if she chose. My curiosity led me to go ahead and sign.

"You have a nice signature, Monica. I see you again at 8:00 a.m. on the first day of spring break."

"What do I wear? Is there anything else I need to do?"

"Just bring your body and your soul, I’ll provide the clothing."

Back at the frat house after our one-on-one conversations with Lydia, the six of us compared notes and had similar experiences. The four not going eagerly overheard our conversations. We noticed that three of us were asked to come by at 11:00 p.m. the evening before spring break started. Dina was in that group and so was Anita and Karen, the girls who did the pantyhose ad for Mary. My group included Cindy and Linda.

When the evening before spring break came, all six of us were a little nervous. Mary took Dina, Anita and Karen down to the store. The rest of us asked if we could come and watch. The answer was no.

Mary didn’t return until 2 a.m. Cindy, Linda and I were still nervously awake. How did it go? What departments did they end up in? What about the girls that used to be mannequins, did they come home with you?

"Relax, relax!" assured Mary. "Everything went great. Karen is in women’s casual and both Anita and Dina drew lingerie. And . . ."

"YES! Lingerie! Yes!" shouted Cindy. "At least that means we probably won’t get lingerie." I thought of Anita and Dina standing in their underwear. I felt a little bad for them. Would it be cold? Could someone recognize them? Either way I felt a little relief calculating that they couldn't possibly need more girls in lingerie.

". . . and," reasserted Mary, "the other mannequin girls need to decompress overnight. You probably won’t get to meet them. And I can’t tell you where you’ll be. Lydia really doesn’t know until you get there."

I don’t think I slept a wink that night and before I knew it Mary was pulling into the back parking lot at Trundle’s.

Once inside Lydia handed Cindy and Linda each an open-topped box with clothes in it. I could see that Cindy’s box contained some sort of career wear and Linda’s looked to be a silky evening dress. Lydia instructed each of them to go into a nearby dressing room and change into the clothes in the box. She also instructed them to take off ALL other clothing—no watches, rings or underwear of any kind.

"Mary will come by to check and see if you need anything."

I was wondering why I didn’t get a box of clothes. My anxiety was rising. Once Linda and Cindy had left, it was my turn and Lydia gave me a small box with artwork indicating a bra was inside. I was curious. I noticed that my bra size, 34-C was printed on the outside of the box and that was exactly what was inside the box. The bra was a seamless version of Trundle’s in-house brand "Comfort Cups." Coincidentally it was the brand and style I often wore.

"This is it?" I commented to Lydia.

"You have a special assignment. You can leave your jeans and shoes on, all you have to do is take of your blouse and put on this bra. Mary will help you."

This was a little worrisome. Since Mary told us that Anita and Dina drew lingerie, I hadn’t given lingerie a thought. What did Lydia mean by special? If it was lingerie, why just a bra and no slip or panties?

Once in the dressing room, I slowly and anxiously took off my blouse and bra. Mary checked in, "everything okay?" I asked whether I needed to take the tags off the new bra and Mary indicated that I should leave them on.

I looked at myself in the mirror. I’ve always liked the look of a new white bra—so crisp and clean. I’ve always been proud of my breasts. Whenever I looked at myself without a top I judged them to be very good. My nipples were not too big, they were just right. I’ve also thought they filled out a bra just fine too and this bra was no exception.

"Are you ready Monica?" Lydia called.

"Yes, I’m coming." I mistakenly thought fewer clothes to put on meant that I had more time.

Cindy and Linda were beautiful. Cindy was wearing a short black skirt with a teal angora shell and a matching sweater. She also had on black pantyhose with a pair of black pumps. Linda wore a sleeveless black evening dress with shiny sequins. She also wore sheer black pantyhose and a pair of elegant black pumps. To top it off, Linda wore a long pearl necklace that was tied in a knot just below her breasts.

I felt a little naked and vulnerable wearing just jeans and a bra. Cindy and Linda gave me a weary look. We didn’t speak but I’m sure they wondered what I was in for. I was a little naïve and tried to think positively. I still believed that Lydia had something "special" for me although I had no idea what it was.

Lydia asked us to follow her into the store. Immediately I saw Karen! She was posed along an aisle wearing a cute pair of khaki pants and a dark green ribbed sweater. I quickly forgot what I was wearing and marveled at Karen. It was definitely the Karen we knew, but she was absolutely a mannequin. She had a wonderful, peaceful look in her eyes; she was beautiful. People often said that she looked like Julia Louis-Dreyfus and she did know more than ever.

"Come on girls," Lydia motioned. "The store will open soon."

We came to an empty mannequin stand in the career wear section. "Here’s your spot Cindy."

Cindy gulped and then allowed Lydia to lead her over to the stand. Lydia lifted up the back of Cindy’s skirt and it looked like she inserted the support rod up her rear. Linda and I watched as Lydia put her hands on Cindy’s shoulder and recited some kind of spell. Within seconds, Cindy’s appearance changed as she took on a mannequin-like sheen. Lydia freely moved her into her pose and Cindy stayed wherever she was posed. With Cindy posed Lydia then rubbed her hands around Cindy’s shoulders, then her wrists and then her waist.

Cindy was as beautiful as Karen. Linda and I glanced at each other. We knew our turn was coming.

"Wonderful," was Lydia’s only comment as she again led us through the store. Mary followed at a distance after she made adjustments to Cindy’s hair and clothes.

I saw an open spot ahead in the evening-wear section and immediately knew Linda’s turn had come. With no words spoken, Lydia led Linda up to the spot where she would stand for a month. Again she lifted up the back of Linda’s dress and pushed the support rod up inside her. Linda grimaced. "It’s inside my ass, Monica."

As with Cindy, Lydia put her hands on Monica’s shoulders and recited the same spell. The effect was the same. Lydia carefully moved Linda’s newly stiff body into a sexy position that match her elegant dress.

She then moved her hands over Linda’s shoulders and with Linda’s sleeveless dress, I saw why Lydia did this movement. What had once been smooth shoulders now had a fine line that marked the point where Linda’s arms could be removed. Lydia did the same to Linda’s wrists, waist and then reached up under her short dress and did the same to the upper portion of her left leg.

Mary had caught up to us at this point. Lydia then grasped Linda’s left arm, pulled it forward and then pulled it off her body. OH MY GOD! What must this feel like for Linda. I looked over to Mary, half expecting her to protest and stop Lydia right then and there. But the look on Mary’s face indicated that she had seen this happen before. This was nothing new.

Mary responded to my look with a reassuring comment, "don’t worry, she’ll be back to normal at the end of the month."

"I guess I’m next," was my nervous comment.

Lydia smiled and led me down the aisle. At this point nothing would’ve surprised me. Suddenly I was reminded that my only new clothing item was the seamless bra I was wearing. I wondered what was to become of me.

Sure enough we stopped at a display in the middle of the lingerie department. Here I immediately recognized the mannequin as Anita. She was wearing a bra and panty set with the rose-colored version of the same bra I was wearing. Her shy pose was quite seductive and attractive.

To Anita’s right were two Greek pillars, one about three foot tall and the other two and a half. On top of the tall pillar was a display form wearing the light blue version of the same bra. The display form was just the top half of a woman’s body and even though it didn’t have a head or arms, I was stricken by how beautiful and seductive it looked.

I remembered that Mary had said that Dina had also ended up in lingerie and I casually looked around for anther display that might feature her. I also looked for an empty display that might be my station. But the rest of the department was crowded with display racks and large posters of women in their underwear. Over in the hosiery section I could see the two pantyhose forms that were there during my personal visit with Lydia.

Looking back at the display form I noticed that it was wearing a necklace. I looked closer and gasped aloud. OH NO! It was the same necklace that I had given Dina for Christmas. Could it be that this display form is . . . Dina?

I’m sure fear was written across my face. Fearful of the answer I knew I would receive, I asked the question out loud. "Is this Dina?"

"Yes," responded Lydia. "Yes it is. I assure you she’s all right. In fact I’m sure she’s intently listening and watching our conversation right now. Don’t you think she’s made a gorgeous bra form, Monica?"

I looked at the empty pillar next to Dina’s bra form. It didn’t take a rocket scientist at this point to figure out where I was going and what I was going to be. Still I had to ask the question, "Am I going to be a bra form, too?"

Lydia nodded the affirmative.

"Are you sure this is safe? I mean really sure?"

Again the affirmative nod.

What could I do? I’d signed the contract and I guess I even knew something like this would be an option. I just didn’t think it would happen to me. Damn my short legs. If I was just taller I could be back in the evening-wear section and not standing here in my bra. I really didn’t have an option at this point. I could run, but I somehow knew that Lydia had the power to stop me. If I got away, would my freedom endanger the others? Would she make me a permanent bra form if I ran? I really had no other option.

"Then let’s get it over with. What do you want me to do?"

"I appreciate your cooperation. The bra form that was there definitely has a soul and all she needs to enjoy her month of life is for you to take her place and loan her the rest of your body."

I was stood in the aisle. Lydia stepped up to me and put her arms on my shoulders and began her chant. Immediately my body felt all tingly and numb. I could still move and although I didn’t try, I felt I could still talk. The weirdest feeling was in my nipples. They felt smaller and very hard. As I slowly looked down, I could see that they were visible through the fabric of the bra.

"I’ll do your arms first." Lydia gently moved her hands over the top of my right shoulder and pushed down sharply at the bottom of my shoulder. I nearly fainted when she handed my arm to Mary. I felt absolutely no pain, I was amazed, for all I knew she just rubbed my shoulder. Lydia then did the same to my left arm.

If I wasn’t so still from the spell, I would’ve had a difficult time keeping my balance without my arms to help me. Lydia rubbed her hands over the smooth armless nubs that were once my shoulders. It felt good.

"The reason I said you were special is that I try to spend extra time when someone becomes a form. It helps lessen the trauma. That’s one reason I left you until the end. I did the same for Dina last night."

I was actually becoming relaxed and okay with the situation. Lydia then asked Mary to come over and hold my hips. Lydia unzipped my jeans and pulled them and my panties down around my hips. In the mirror across the aisle, I watched as Lydia began to draw a line with her fingers around my torso just a couple of inches below my waist. After a few moments of this, Lydia grabbed me by the ribs just below my breasts. With a quick turn, my body had been separated in half!

Again no pain. And as far as I could tell I was still breathing and could even talk if I wanted to. I decided to try talking, although it was hard to find something to say in the drama of the moment. A question came to mind, "what will happen to my bottom half, will you use it for pants or pantyhose?"

"No, like I said, the bra form that was here will need the rest of your body in order to get around and experience life."

Hmmm. I hadn’t thought of that. "Does that mean my head too?"

"Yes. Let’s stop the questions, it’s better if you don’t know everything at this time, Monica."

With my upper half on the second and shorter pillar, I could see directly at Dina and see her armless left shoulder. I wondered what she was thinking. I wondered why I wasn’t scared. It seemed that this was so unreal that it must be okay.

Lydia worked with my upper body to give it a similar seductive form as Dina had. She moved my shoulders back and my breasts forward. She moved me so that my left shoulder was slightly forward in comparison to the right side.

Lydia smiled. "Any last words for a month?"

"Don’t forget me and Mary, make sure these other girls don’t wreck our house."

With the last words spoken, Lydia ran her fingers around my neck in the same way she did my waist. The experience of having my head lifted off my body was wild. My consciousness, or I guess my soul, stayed with my upper body bra form. I watched as Lydia and Mary took away my other body parts. I realized that the body is really only a device to carry the soul.

The store opened a few minutes later and I came to enjoy the constant traffic up and down the aisles. It was also fun to overhear conversations. I quickly found that women shopping for underwear were usually in the mood for gossip and other interesting conversation.

Occasionally I noticed a nervous male doing some shopping for his wife or girlfriend . . . or maybe even himself. Either way, I could hear that the sales clerks especially enjoyed the plight of these men.

Later that day I was almost blown over when I saw myself and Dina walk up. I took me a few minutes of frustration to realize that these were the two previous bra forms making use of Dina and my body parts. WEIRD!!

They walked up to us and whispered a thanks. The one with my body rubbed my back a little. Then it occurred to me—if just our boobs were here on display, what about the rest of our bodies. Would our legs and arms reap the results of having been a mannequin for a month? I would have to wait to find out that answer.

Before they left, the one in Dina’s body lifted the necklace from around Dina’s neck and put it on. This was just too weird!

I was surprise at how aware I was. I would never be around a mannequin again without wondering about their level of awareness.

Rena and Terri also came by later that day. They recognized Anita and took some time to quietly comfort her. They said nothing to me or Dina, they obviously didn’t know who we were.

The next day Mary came by doing her display work. "Hey Monica, Anita and Dina," she stated above a whisper. "Lydia left back for Seattle, so I’m in charge. She dressed you so drab. I’m going to liven things up around here. By the way, my new roomies are fun!"

She stepped behind me, out of my line of sight. Suddenly I felt the cups on my bra tighten as someone pulled on the bra from the back. Then things loosened up. In an instant I knew that Mary had undone my bra. Being undressed by someone else was unique enough by itself, but in this instance the feeling was intensified due to the fact that my breasts remained firm without the support of the bra.

Mary did the same to Dina and Anita. Here I was topless in the lingerie section of a department store—another unique experience. If misery loves company, at least I was topless with my friends! Although I took solace in the fact that I didn’t have a head and no one could ever recognize me by my boobs alone, I wondered how Anita felt.

While we were still naked, Mary rearranged the display. Leave it to Mary to want to do things her own way. First our clothes and then our arrangement—couldn’t she just once leave well enough alone? Mary had a couple of workers bring in an antique full-length oak mirror. She then positioned Anita’s nude body in front of the mirror. I watched as she meticulously dressed Anita in a black strapless bustier with matching garter belt and nylons.

While Mary worked on Anita, the workers were busy assembling another display out of our view. Once she was finished with Anita, Mary had the two workers pick up Dina and me and bring us over to the new display. Having a strange man pick you up with his arms around your naked breasts was another weird experience.

The new display was a solid black velvet wall about six feet wide and eight feet tall. Along the top of the display was the name of a new manufacturer of cleavage enhancing bras in bright yellow letters. One of the workers picked me up and set me on a small shelve at the far right of the display. He then set Dina on a matching shelf on the left. On the remainder of the wall, the workers installed bracket posts that were meant to hold the merchandise.

Mary and one of the sales clerks brought out a large box filled with bras and hangars. The two women then began the process of hanging up all the bras. These particular bras came in white, black, yellow (to match the logo color on the wall) and a tiger striped version with black and yellow.

One of the workers was called to another project. Mary asked the remaining worker, a cute guy in his early twenties, if he would like to dress the bra forms while she and the sales clerk finish stocking the rack. This galled me! It was one thing for Mary to undress us in public and leave us that way, but how could she let a strange guy, albeit a cute one, dress us!

The guy reluctantly started picking out bras for Dina and me. "What size to they wear?"

"Most mannequins where a 34-B, but these particular bra forms might wear a 34-C. You’ll just have to try both on and see which one looks best. You should be a good judge of that!" responded Mary.

Unfortunately he experimented on me. The first one, which I think was the B cup, was way to tight. He had a tough time stretching it around my rock hard body. The next one, probably the C cup, initially didn’t seem to work because the cups were too loose. Mary fixed the problem by tightening the shoulder straps. The guy made sure he rubbed all the wrinkles out of the bra so it smoothly hugged my every curve.

My bra was one of the yellow ones and there wasn’t much to it. In real life, I probably couldn’t get enough support from such a skimpy bra. But in mannequin life, this bra revealed the sensuous curves of my breasts. I could see that Dina was having the same experience.

Mary spent about a half-hour with the remaining worker while he installed lights at the top of the display. They worked to make sure that the lights did the best job of amplifying the cleavage on our all too exposed breasts. Once the guy left, Mary stepped close to us and said, "well you became a mannequin and you’ve already had a sexy young guy touch your breasts—better than real life, isn’t it?"

For the rest of our month at Trundle’s, Dina and I stayed on that display. Any concerns of modesty were gone within a few days. I grew to be proud of my beautiful bust. I also got a thousand laughs at the facial expressions and conversation of women perusing our rack.

I went through night and day on the display. I often wondered how my other five friends were doing. Did Mary change their outfits too? I also contemplated how we could get back at Mary for changing us during store hours and having the young guy dress us.

At one point I started wondering when our time was up and we could be real again. I would have to admit that a part of me would miss this experience. I had used my time to do a lot of thinking and really felt my life would be more focused when I was real again. I did a lot of thinking about my family, my career and future relationships. While I was ready to re-enter the real world, I wasn’t in a hurry either. I was more content than I had been in years.

Finally, the day came when I saw Lydia and Mary in front of me. Lydia put her arms on my shoulders and recited a chant. She then instructed Mary to remove my bra and set me on a cart. They did the same to Dina and set her on the cart facing me.

In the moments after Lydia’s chant, I immediately started feeling a tingling sensation throughout my form. As they wheeled us into the back of the store, I knew I was returning to the real world. On Dina’s form in front of me, I could see her breasts become more weighted and her nipples begin to take on a more real texture.

They laid each of our forms on a table. Lydia came in with my lower half and massaged it into place on my lower body. She did the same for Dina. They then pulled our panties and pants up over our hips and moved us to a seated position at the edge of the table. I could feel my legs and feet in a way that felt like nothing had happened.

As Lydia and Mary touched me I could feel that I was becoming very real. I wondered what we looked like. Two headless, armless women sitting on the edge of a table, but with breasts that would immediately be recognized as not being from a mannequin.

Next came our heads. With this step I could actually move. I turned my head to look at Dina. We exchanged a smile. "How did it go, Monica?" Dina asked.

"Okay, actually. Just fine. Real good." It felt so good to talk I wanted to keep on talking.

"How are the others?" Dina asked.

"Just fine, you’re the first to come back."

Once our arms were back, Dina and I dressed ourselves for the first time in a month. I immediately noticed the effect of our months as mannequins. My legs and waist were well toned—the best I had ever looked. My breasts had always been my best point, but now they were more shapely and pert than ever. This was well worth it!

The store was closed and Lydia invited us to accompany her to the display floor for the others. First was Anita. Near Anita was the display that we were a part of just a few hours earlier. Dina and I both stopped to look at the real bra forms that we back in their appointed place. I was surprise by my reaction. I walked up and thanked them for the opportunity to share their existence for a month and hoped I could do it again sometime.

Lydia informed us that these two mannequins had also had a good experience and had decided to take on our names. "Now you have a soul mate in an alternate universe that shares your name. To me that would be comforting."

In a few hours we were all back together and shared a reunion hug. Rena, Terri, Janine and Helen celebrated the reunion with us, but I think they felt a little left out. We were marveling in our newly toned bodies. We all felt that this spring break was the best ever. Cindy asked Lydia if we could do it again next year. She answered YES!

Epilogue

It has been five years since this initial spring break phenomenon occurred. My senior year I spent spring break with Lydia and Trundle’s. Upon graduation, I went to work as business manager for Trundle’s and have been there for the past four years. Each year I’ve spent a month as a mannequin. The resulting peace of mind is greater than the bodily rewards.

During the other four times as a mannequin, I’ve never been a full body. I guess, my 5’2" height has been a limitation. One year I was a dress form in the evening wear department and another year I was a three-quarter form wearing swimsuits. Initially it was very distressing not to be a full body, but I’ve come to accept it. The last two years I’ve actually requested to trade with "Monica" the same bra form I initially stood in for. I’ve got a new appreciation for the romantic aspects lingerie—especially a bra!

Four of the original six girls—Linda, Anita, Cindy and Karen—have come back each year since. Dina did it one more year and then left to get married, have kids, and live on the east coast—remember this was her dream. I hear she’s had three young boys and probably needs the shape changing benefits of another session. Anita and Karen’s days in the pantyhose ad caught up with them as they ended up as pantyhose forms for years two, three and four.

Janine joined us in year two and stood beside me as a dress form. Terri went on a successful diet and joined us in year three. She was a gorgeous swimsuit mannequin and remains trim to this day. Other than Mary, Rena and Helen are the only girls from our frat house who haven’t participated.

Mary is a unique story. We’ve all tried to get her to participate, but she refuses. She’s got a great mannequin body, but age and good food have caught up with her. She diets relentlessly in an apparent loosing battle with the tape measure and the scales. But she just won’t do it.

Mary has continued to work for Trundle’s and is the director of visual merchandising for eastern Washington. Ironically, many of our group have moved on to careers at Trundle’s. Cindy was a department manager in Boise, Anita works in the advertising department in Seattle and Linda is the store manager in Bellingham.

Lydia is still a women of few words and is the corporate director of visual merchandising. Mary seems to be her heir apparent. Lydia still studies alternative religions and still experiments with the souls of objects and parallel universes.

I still believe that Lydia’s threat of being a permanent mannequin is real. A case in point is Cindy. A few months ago Cindy approached me with some angry frustration regarding an executive at Trundle’s. She told me she had evidence of Lydia’s activities (other than our personal experience) that would be devastating to the company if it was revealed. I cautioned her about revealing Lydia’s activities and she scoffed at me.

A month later Cindy disappeared. The Police have been unable to find her. They suspect a mass murderer is in the area. I suspect something else. Mary won’t tell me anything (typical of Mary—wants to know everything about you but will tell you nothing of herself). Mary acted as if she knew something and warned me of the penalty.

Before her disappearance, Cindy also confided in Janine. Last weekend Janine and I drove to Boise and went shopping at the Trundle’s store there. On the second floor in the sportswear section, there’s a mannequin that bears a striking resemblance to Cindy. I suspect it is her, but can’t prove it.

The last time I spoke with Lydia, she asked how the weather was in Boise. She also asked how Janine was doing. I shuttered. How did she know I was in Boise? How did she know I had seen Janine?

Tomorrow, Janine and I are going in together for our sixth annual spring break. I have written this story and strategically placed it in a number of locations as a record of my activity in case I come to share Cindy’s fate. Although I’ve enjoyed being a mannequin and the accompanying results, I would not want to be one forever.

I’ve come to fear Lydia and I fear that I might be a permanent mannequin by the time you read this.

Challenge:

This story has a number of sequel options, none of which I’ll pursue. Someone else is welcome to write a sequel. A sequel could include any or all of these options/ideas:
    1. The alternate Monica turning evil and refusing to allow the real Monica to be a real person again.
    2. Lydia does keep Monica and Janine as mannequin forms and Mary discovers the switch and works together with another one of the girls to deceive Lydia and rescue them.
    3. Ambitious Mary turns Lydia into a mannequin and takes over her position.
    4. Mary learns Lydia’s secrets and convinces Monica to join her in starting their own mannequin company.
    5. We find out why Mary has been so reluctant to become a mannequin (creativity needed to determine why).
    6. The real mannequins all rebel and turn all the girls, including Mary, into mannequins permanently. It turns out that Lydia was one of them to begin with.
    7. Rena gets a chance to be a grown-up mannequin in Trundle’s new hair salon or someplace else in the store . . .

[This sounds like too great an opportunity to pass up!   Ed.]