Several hours later, we find Professor Claussen hard at work in his basement/laboratory. Amidst stacks of dusty text books, shelves full of outdated computer equipment and more homemade scientific equipment than any sane college professor would claim ownership of, Claussen uses his skills both diligently and efficiently like a true craftsman. Here, in the dusty rays of halogen light, decades of research pay off once again. The professor is examining another work in progress. That work in progress is Bridget’s best friend Beyonce, who now stands at attention before him.
Claussen clears his throat, takes another sip of his Masters Choice “Master Blend” (of course), sets’ down his mug, then gently finishes applying lip gloss to the young girl’s full lips. He then gets up and changes the dials that control the special lighting mounted in panels in the ceiling above them. The old man fiddles with a dimmer switch until he feels he has the proper lighting illuminating the girl's dark skin. He takes out a can of “maxi-hold” hair spray and begins to spray a fairly liberal amount over the young woman’s hair while at the same time being considerate to block her face from any over spray. It had taken Claussen several hours to decide on exactly which hair style he would use on Beyonce, (straight and parted down the middle), it would be a shame to ruin the overall look because of overspray!
“Well Beyonce my darling, you clean up rather nice,” says the old man as he reaches up and gently strokes the young girl’s cheek. “You’re the very first black woman in my collection and I must say you represent very well.”
Beyonce stands rigidly with her eyes fixed straight ahead, patiently waiting (well in Claussen’s mind anyway), as the self made “artist” continues with his one-way conversation.
“Your skin is so flawless . . . your body so perfect.” The old man lifts and presses her firm breasts somewhat together, then walks around her, slowly running his hand across her tight stomach, stopping to circle her deep, oblong navel, then drifts slowly around to her backside. “I love you all unconditionally. However, there is no need for this,” he says looking disappointedly at a tattoo strategically placed above her ass-crack at the very small of her back. “Hmm . . . Bootylicous ?” he asks with a note of disgust.
Moments earlier, Claussen took painstaking care to remove a piercing from Beyonce’s navel. The old man puts aside the “Covergirl” make-up kit, then digs out his own, home-brewed kit. He mixes the special enamel to match Beyonce’s pigment, then begins to airbrush away the tattoo from her backside. As he sprays away, he admires the taut skin of her voluptuous buttocks.
(....I shall get a lot of use out of you, Claussen thinks to himself...)
“What’s that, darling?” the old man suddenly bursts out. “Well I was just thinking: Lucky for me you kept yourself in tip-top shape!” Claussen gives the frozen girl a good smack on the butt cheek....(she wobbles slightly, but remains unaffected).
The old man re-loads his spray-gun once again. This time he adds a mist of clear coat enamel to give Beyonce’s stiffened body a little sheen. He slowly works his way around her, covering every curve and crevice with a film that is slightly tacky to the touch. With the spraying now complete, Claussen digs his mini-mag flash-light from his back pocket and does a quick visual inspection just to be sure her skin is entirely coated, (which of course includes her personal regions!) Once finished, he takes a sip of his coffee, then heads over to a walk-in closet in the corner of the room. Although packed full of exotic outfits, Claussen already knows what he is looking for as he reaches for a small shirt box on one of the top shelves. Bought several years ago off of Ebay and waiting for its chance to be worn again, Claussen lifts out an off-white, see-through mini-dress. It is the very same mini-dress that a then young, hot, and sweaty Tina Turner wore for a video shoot for the song “Proud Mary” back in the late 60's. Claussen walks back across the room excitedly with his gift, throwing its ancient plastic wrapping on the floor.
“Now Beyonce, I realize this isn’t something you would have personally bought or worn, but I do think it will show off your body rather nicely....besides, for what it cost me you should feel privileged.” Claussen pauses briefly as if to wait for a response.......
Beyonce stares off in the distance with a haunted look about her face, as Professor Claussen shimmy’s the tight fitting dress down around her young body. He primps her here and there until the dress fits to his liking. The old man then stares into the girls blank face......
“You know, you have such perfect white teeth. I think you should show me that killer smile, like you did out by the pool.” Clausen begins to manipulate her facial features with his skilled fingers, producing a wide, but forced-looking smile. He then steps back from his piece and admires the preserved details of this once living, breathing woman.
“Beyonce, you came out even better than I had expected,”chimes the old man. “ In fact, I believe you have earned the additional honor of a rotating display.”
Claussen leaves the room, then soon returns with an adjustable rod like that used on display mannequins. He then grabs a tape measure and proceeds to measure the girl’s in-seam. Claussen makes a note of the measurement in his notebook, then carefully lifts the girl up by her waist and places her semi-stiff body face down on a nearby Gurney. He pulls back the mini-skirt and with some minor effort spreads the girl’s legs.
“Now Beyonce, this would hurt a normal woman, but you shouldn’t feel a thing.” (The old man tries to push the support rod into the girls behind with some difficulty...) “Well gosh, where are my manners...?” Claussen retrieves some Vaseline from his bench. When he returns, he gently pries apart the girls fast tightening butt-cheeks, then gives her a good smear. Re-attempting to insert the rod a second time, Beyonce’s rear gives little protest and the rod eventually works its way up into her. The professor carefully uprights the girl and adjusts the rod to ground level. He then retrieves his custom made moving dolly to remove his new edition.
“Well Beyonce, it’s been great spending time with you,”says Claussen, slightly brushing back a few stray hairs on her forehead. “But now it’s time to meet some new friends.”
.........Sometime later Professor Claussen returns to the lab next door from where he has been working these last few hours and checks on Maria’s conversion process.
The young Latino girl is on her back and clamped to a tube-framed-like table. Suspended at a 45 degree angle and upside down, she stares up towards the ceiling. Her dark brown eyes are open but dilated, her body nude with arms spread out from her sides. Her long, jet-black hair cascades off of the back of the table and towards the floor. Maria’s full breasts (capped with large brown nipples), have settled back on her body. Two strips of tape hold electrodes over them as well as on other parts of her body. A clear plastic oxygen mask with some sort of tube is placed on her face. Another device resembling a male athletic supporter, is affixed to her crotch area. A black, ribbed-like tube is affixed to the cup and snakes its way down between her legs and out over the edge of the tube-framed rack to origins unknown..........
Claussen spends several moments on a laptop nearby which is monitoring Maria’s progress. A pleased smile spreads across his face as he gets up from his chair and approaches the young Latino. He brushes a few stray hairs away from her face then looks into her watery yet vacant eyes .... “The sooner you accept what you shall be... the easier it will be for the both of us, Maria,” states Claussen. He leans over her and takes out a bottle of Visine. “Very soon, my lovely, very soon you shall meet your sisters...” He gives the girls blood-shot eyes a few droplets.
Maria, the most street-wise of the three, had the misfortune of snapping out of her “flash photo-induced” suspended animation and was eye-witness to Beyonce’s initial transformation process. However, after a brief scuffle, Claussen over- powered and subdued her. As a result, Maria’s initial transformation experience was traumatic, rather than a pleasurable as the Professor had planned.....
Claussen’s inspection is interrupted by a sudden stirring in the darkness.
“Well, look who's decided to join us,”says Claussen walking slowly across the room.
Bridget, groggy and despondent at first, attempts to rub the sleep from her eyes, but just can’t seem to move her arms...... and the figure before her is blurred at first, however her eyes eventually adjust....
Claussen holds up the dirty-blonde girl's chin and comments: “Bridget, my darling, how we’ve missed you...”
“Wha...what.. ha....happened?” Bridget mumbles, still trying to get her arms to move.
“Bridget, my darling.... I’ve been so busy working with your friends, I truly didn’t forget about you. This is very time consuming work. But I do aim for quality and not so much quantity... I hope you understand love...” Claussen begins to wheel her chair around.
“....Working with . . . hey, what is this place?”... Bridget begins to get a clearer view of the mildewy room around her. “Why . . . why am I in a wheelchair, and WHY THE HELL AM I STRAPPED IN? NOW WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?”
“Now, now.. easy Bridget. It’s only temporary.”... Claussen quickly grabs a hypodermic needle from a nearby stand. He injects it into the girl’s arm, causing her to let out a minor scream. The drug slightly subdues her as she lets out a sigh.......
The professor returns the hypo to its holder then returns to the girl and gets down on one knee......
“Bridget, please listen. I have something very special to share with you. I didn’t have time to show your friends. But since I have known your father since college and he and I had many good times with our friends in my bomb shelter, well I feel that you are a part of that.”
Bridget looks up at the man with a slight drug induced stupor and mumbles “Wha..what the hell...are you ..talkin’..talking about?”
“Well, that’s what I intend to show you!” exclaims Claussen, while turning the wheelchair and heading for a lighted hallway.
Out of the corner of her eye, Bridget thought she sees a nude body with some sort of wires and tubing attached to it in the far corner of the room. “Who...who was that?” The girl asks, slightly slurring her words.
Claussen just wheels her ahead without an answer. He has the look of anticipation in his eyes as the two enter the lighted hallway.
The hallway, unlike the lab, is up-kept and shag carpeted. Some of the hall’s features are: dark maroon walls trimmed with elaborate woodwork, burning candles and various forms of art throughout the entire area. They pass by several closed hardwood doors before coming upon two larger, riveted steel doors at the end of the hall. The doors are opened slightly and the room behind them is dimly lit.
turns to the girl and speaks somewhat excitedly. “Bridget, from the first
moment that I saw you, I knew I had to have you. But it was important
for me that you understand just how much I appreciate your beauty.” Claussen
then cups the girl's precious face in his hands. “I promise that I can
offer you something more than any young man could ever hope to offer you.
Something that is ever-lasting. You will always be handled in the greatest
of care?...What?” (The poor girl begins to look a little more confused and a
LOT more scared!)....What do you mean by the greatest of care?... My.
. . . My father always takes care of me! . . . Always dammit! . . . .
And . . . . I’m not looking to get married.”
Claussen chuckles, then holds up the girl’s chin and looks into her eyes. “Darling, I’m not talking about marriage. But what I require does involve a lifetime commitment on your part. Let me show you.”
Claussen proceeds to tug on one of the steel doors, rolling it along a track that’s mounted into the floor. The massive door slowly disappears into the adjacent wall allowing the professor to wheel his curious guest into the vault behind it.
Once inside, Bridget’s eyes begin to adjust to the poor lighting. She notices that the aisle way (which is only about 5 feet wide by 9 feet high to the drop ceiling), seems to be very deep. It could go back a good 50 feet or possibly more. The floors are covered by polished black marble tiles and the walls are painted and trimmed in the same fashion as the hall-way.
With some flickering, wall mounted candles providing the only immediate source of light, Claussen feels his way over to a control panel mounted to the wall on his right. He reaches for the spectacles in his lab coat pocket. . . .
“Ok, . . . . let me see here . . . . (He adjusts the specs back and forth on his nose to get the best results) . . . . ah: Rotation Speed ? Nope. Ah: Mood Settings? Nope. A-HA! . . . Main Switch. Yes, that’s the one we want!” The old man flips the switch, then turns back to face Bridget with a devilish grin. “I must say, after almost 30 years, I still get pumped up with anticipation every time I slide open that big ole’ door and turn on the lights!”
Bridget looks at her mentor with an even more confused look on her face, then turns around to see what is unfolding ahead of her: lights quickly illuminate in succession what appears to be many glass booths or display cases mounted into the walls on both sides of the vault. . . .
Claussen quickly lowers the dimmer switch to set the mood and not to spoil Bridget’s surprise all at once. . . .
The professor leans down so he’s level with Bridget’s wheel chair, brushes her golden bangs from her eyes, saying “You know darling, for many years my co-workers as well as many of my students have asked me how I have managed to stay single for so many years. They have asked how it was possible to carry on in life being so lonely.” Claussen winks at the girl, stands back up, then digs a remote control from his lab coat. “Well dear, this is not the case.”
He wheels her towards the first of the dimmed enclosures, then while raising his remote speaks out in a hushed tone. . . . “Bridget, the girls and I welcome you to our living doll exhibit.”
The glass enclosure before them slowly begins to illuminate, revealing a blonde woman, who stands stock-still. With arms at her sides, She stares out at the two onlookers with a unaware expression. Her body is wrapped in a black, semi-transparent nightgown that is stretched to its limits. The sheer nylon material is so snug to her body that it seems to almost squash her full breasts together - imploding her nipples against the fine fabric. A slight hint of her natural blonde pubic hair can be seen beneath the material that stretches its way across her thighs. The woman’s hands are cupped, yet her fingers are spread slightly apart and gradually bend upward in succession.
Bridget looks on in awe at the realism of the subject before her. From the doll’s glassy, yet distinct “Bermuda like” blue eyes. . . . (Wait a minute, are those crows feet at the edges?... Crows feet on a mannequin?. . . . How did he get the breasts to squash like that? . . . And the pubic hair . . . . Where would he buy that from? . . . This guy is getting more twisted by the minute. Oh God, I hope, NO-WAY! He couldn’t get off on this stuff. . . . Or could he?) “Um, Professor Claussen? It— I mean she, looks so realistic. Almost, like, well it’s kind of spooky. But, why? I mean, what do you exactly do with it anyway?” (The girl looks back at him with a mixed look of wonder and fear).
“Well first off, you shouldn’t address her as “it”, darling.” (Claussen flashes Bridget a look of disappointment.) The old man then introduces the figure as Linda, as he walks up to the glass enclosure, to get a closer view. “Linda was working at a truck stop a few hours away from here. I felt so sorry for her, being harassed by those truckers day after day, year after year. So I brought her here and gave her a new life. One free of rent, bills and those loose hands of those truckers dammit! It’s kind of ironic, now I wait on her!”
Bridget looks on, trying to appear to pay attention as Claussen rambles on in the background. However, her imagination and conscience, are running full-throttle (“He’s actually convinced himself that this thing had a life!... This crap is getting way out of hand!... And where in the hell are those two friends? Somebody has to notice that I’m missing sooner or later... Wait, is that fine hair on that mannequin's arms?)
“By the way, if you were wondering about the glass enclosures, they keep the dust off of my dolls. I found that the more girls I collected, the more I had to dust. I finally had to build these custom display cases so I would have more time to play with them and less cleaning time. I feel the mood lighting adds a regal and almost dramatic effect to the exhibit.” The Professor then whispers “Plus the separate booths give them each a bit of privacy.”
Claussen flicks his remote, causing the light in Linda’s booth to dim down low, leaving behind a frozen shadow.
“Now this next girl is very special to me,” says Claussen as he wheels Bridget to the booth adjacent to Linda’s. As the contents within begin to illuminate, he continues: “This was my first true love and her name was Beth. She meant everything to me. Well everything until the first time I saw your mother. That’s when things...” --- (Bridget cuts him off)
“Wait, you keep talking as if these are real people and it’s freaking me out! I mean it’s bad enough that they’re anatomically correct!... Man, just get me the hell out of here! Where are Beyonce and Maria?” (Bridget briefly notices the next doll behind Claussen as being just as realistic as the last one).
“PLEASE!.... There’s no need to yell,” returns Claussen.
The Professor looks at his watch, shakes his head then reaches into his pocket for his trusty bottle of chloroform. Reaching around, he gasses the girl, sending her back into submission. Her eyes flutter briefly as her head bobbles around and she begins to grasp for air . . . .
Claussen looks the girl over, making sure she’s coherent enough to pay attention, then begins to reveal his secret to the girl. “Well yes, but of course they are real. They have been specially preserved. They will never to grow old!
Bridget attempts to recoil herself in her wheel chair. “Oh my God— You're sick! (Coughing). . . . You’ll never get away with this!
Claussen yells “Please. . . .Quite to the contrary! I have been putting women into suspended animation for almost three decades!” (The old man wipes his forehead, which is now beginning to bead up with sweat ). “Look at her! She hasn’t aged a day since she joined my collection in 1974!
Bridget was looking in on the frozen woman held in her illuminated enclosure. She stood in a sixty’s style panty and garter set made of white cotton. Beth was posed with her hands cupping her breasts, her legs spread apart and her hips thrust somewhat forward causing her back to arch. Her head is tilted down bringing attention to her thick eyelashes and slightly upturned nose.
Claussen begins to speak from behind her. “I’m doing her a favor. Just imagine, staying eternally young. So fresh and nubile. It took me many years to get the formula right. And many more for the conversion process. I started out on stray pets. I used to get a few from the college too. Then the next thing you know, I’m driving around at Three A.M. looking for hookers! Some of those didn’t pan out, so I donated them to the medical department at the college. But when I finally got the formula right, I knew Beth would be the first for my collection. She had already begun to show her age. By that time, she had two children. Do you know what that did to her? But I tracked her down and brought her back with me. I then preserved her as I had remembered her. I had to pose her with her hands on her breasts because they were already sagging. It’s such a shame, . . . I have other ways of uplifting them now if necessary. I had a hell of a time hiding those stretch-marks though. Luckily I found that dull old cotton panty set at a vintage lingerie shop. The boned garter cinches her waist while at the same time covers up her trouble spots. . . .”
Bridget continued to stare at the woman in the case, wondering what thoughts were going through her head just before she was. . . .What did he call it? “Transformed? Suspended?”. . . Whatever that was, I’m sure Beth wouldn’t advise it. . . .
Looking in on the frozen beauty, Claussen confesses “I always felt that I had let Beth down when she found out about the crush I had on your mother. I suppose this was how I thought I could make it up to her.”
Bridget looks up at her Professor dazedly and asks “You . . . had a crush on my mother? Did my parents know?”
“Yes, your mother knew. However, she didn’t want it to come between your father and myself. So she told Beth about it. Beth eventually confronted me about it and I confessed. She had finally given her virginity to me just a short time before . . . . and I don’t think she ever got over my crush on your mother. The two were best friends at the time.” Claussen clicks his remote, leaving Beth once again in the dark. Yet another click illuminates several more displays before them . . . .
The two wheel onward, passing still beauty after beauty. There were several girls whom looked like they were captured back in the Seventies with Farah Fawcett and Dorothy Hamill style haircuts. Across the aisle from those victims, stood several more women with teased up hair and ridiculously large earrings whom presumably were from the eighties. Some were dressed in lingerie while others were tastefully nude. All of them looked just as fresh and nubile as the day they were preserved, so many years ago.
“But. . . . But how could you do this to them?” Bridget asks, her eyes welling up. “How could you take their freedom away, . . . keeping them here for your own pleasure? They didn’t cause you any harm.....” (the young girl is quickly cut off.)
“I GIVE THEM FREEDOM FROM THE BOREDOM AND RESPONSIBILITIES OF EVERYDAY LIFE” yells Claussen, now raising his hands above his head like some deranged preacher. “FOR GOD SAKES, I GAVE THEM ETERNAL BEAUTY!” Claussen jerks Bridget’s wheelchair around to the opposite side of the viewing area to face a booth containing a very young and demure looking Asian girl. “Like for instance, this girl right here....”
Bridget, suddenly reacting in shock, screams out, “OH MY GOD! . . . I, . . . . I think I know her. That’s . . . . WAIT, THAT’S SWAN LU . . . THE EXCHANGE STUDENT!” Bridget tilts her head in sadness and pouts out, “Everybody thought she was sent back to her homeland.”
“Now, now dear,” whispers Claussen while wiping the tears from Bridget’s cheek . . . “There isn’t any need to feel sorry for her. Swan, wasn’t sent back to her homeland. I brought her here, so she would have no more worries about renewing her visa.” Claussen walks up to the enclosure and traces the out-line of the young girl’s face on the glass with his index finger. Then speaking in a lowered voice, the Professor comments in perverse admiration, “Swan looks so innocent, just standing there under the light. You know, the nice thing about preserving her, was that Swan already had “that look”. She is certainly one of my favorites!” The old man turns and winks at Bridget after this last statement, then looks over at the Asian girl rather lovingly.
Swan, is posed to look like she is standing at attention, like so many of the other women. She wears a school-girl's uniform, consisting of a short plaid skirt, white knee-high stockings and a white dress shirt. Her black shoes are impeccably polished, and her appearance as a whole is rather tasteful. Even her long raven hair shines under the display lights. However, if one were to look long enough, they would eventually notice the hint of the young girl's erect nipples pressing lightly against the fine, silk fabric. (Just one of Claussen’s little touches). Even her nerdy “horn- rimmed” glasses were still intact. Swan’s big brown eyes continue to sparkle as she stares out obediently. She appears to be unashamed, and most likely unaware, of her present condition.
Claussen then begins to brag, “In fact, Swan was the second exchange student to join my little exhibit. My first was a lovely student from Czechoslovakia, named Nadia.” The Professor then nods his head to the motionless girl displayed in the next case, a young Brunette. This girl is posed with her back-side facing the aisle-way and her head looking over her shoulder. Her nude ass is only mere inches away from the glass panel. “I wanted to give this figure the illusion that she was looking at her butt in the mirror, thus the head angle and the appropriate expression. This way, YOU and I are the actual mirror. Pretty neat huh? ”
Bridget sorrily had to agree with Claussen’s choice of a realistic pose for this doll, recalling the numerous times she herself would check her own butt in the mirror, before going out for a night on the town with Beyonce and Maria. . . . “WAIT!” Bridget yells out, as she has a sudden moment of clarity. “My friends . . . where are they? Please, I think I really need to talk to my friends.”
“Well they’ve been patiently waiting for you, Bridget,” says Claussen. “Maria is waiting back in the lab and . . . Beyonce, should be right over here someplace. . . .
The two come to a section of the vault that seems as if it’s unfinished. Some sections are covered in plastic sheeting. Small stacks of lumber as well as sheets of plywood are scattered about.
“Please excuse the mess. . . . I’ve been trying like hell to get things finished up,” says Claussen as his guest appears unamused. “But . . . .( Raising his trusty remote). . . . I think it will be worth the wait.” A special platform with a lone figure upon it begins to slowly light up in the corner of the room . . . .
* * * * *
Bridget lets out a piercing scream as she recognizes the stiff figure, now bathed in bright halogen light, as her best friend, Beyonce!
“OH MY GOD! NO . . . NOT YOU TOO!” Bridget cries out to her friend, with no response being returned.
Beyonce, now mounted on some sort of pedestal, slowly rotates around in endless circles. In mannequin like fashion, she’s posed with one hand on her hip while the other hangs slack at her side. She leans with her back arched slightly and her chest thrust outward. A chrome-plated support rod seems to disappear into a nether region. Where most of the doll’s faces were either blank or lusty, Beyonce’s expression was that of joy. A big smile reveals her perfect white teeth rather nicely. The short dress she is wearing, barely covers her bottom half, leaving her newly shaven crotch slightly exposed. The tight white fabric of the dress barely hides the brownish hue of her erect nipples underneath.
Bridget has tears in her eyes as she cries out, “How? How could you do this to someone like her. . . . or somebody like Swan? They did nothing to you. They had so much ahead of them.”
Claussen answers, “. . . But they are so beautiful!” He nods his head towards her frozen friend . “ In a physical sense, she’s still very much Beyonce.” The old man stares at the African beauty, feeling arousal . . . . “ You know, I couldn’t decide if she looked best from the front or the back . . . . thus the turntable.”
Bridget looks up just in time to notice the support rod clearly mounted in her best friend’s derriere, causing the creases at the bottom of her cheeks to “pucker in”. (while Beyonce slowly circles, obediently retaining her smile).
“Well, my darling, we’ve visited long enough. As you see, I have lots of work ahead of me as well as many display booths to fill . . . Let’s go see how Maria is doing,” says Claussen, as he wheels Bridget around in the opposite direction.
The two pass by the dolls previously viewed including poor Swan, who still waits patiently for the next time she might be taken out of her case and possibly “played with”.
Bridget, while still sobbing, is trying to come up with a plan of escape . . . and how she will explain what she had just seen to Maria. Just then she thinks: Maria, she’s street-wise. If anyone can come up with a plan, it’s that girl . . . .
Claussen kills the lights to the vault, then closes the big steel doors. He wheels Bridget back towards the lab . . . .
“I need to see Maria. . . . NOW!” Demands the emotionally exhausted girl. “When I tell her what you did to Beyonce, she won’t believe it.”
“Oh, I’m sure Maria will understand,” says Claussen now sporting a sinister grin.
As the two enter the lab, Claussen turns several overhead lights on. Bridget quickly spots her missing friend, now strapped down to a rack of tubular construction . . . .
“Oh my God . . . Maria! This Pervert turned Beyonce into a life-size doll!” Shouts the frantic young woman. “In fact, HE HAS A WHOLE ROOM THAT’S FULL OF. . .”
Bridget cuts her sentence short, as she approaches her friend’s nude form and sees that all is not well with Maria. The girl bows her head and begins to weep softly for her friend. . . .
Claussen begins to look over the various tubes and electrodes that connect the prone girl’s body to the mass of electronic equipment which surrounds her. The Professor then scans a nearby computer monitor. “Excellent!” He proclaims, as he quickly types in a few final commands. Reaching into his lab coat pocket, Claussen produces his trusty remote. He aims it in Maria’s direction, causing the frame work that she is strapped into to turn in a rotisserie like fashion. The table comes to a complete stop, with the girl’s tush facing up. Claussen pulls on some rubber gloves, walks over to the prone woman, then presses against the bottom creases of her ass cheeks with one hand. Using the other hand, the Professor slowly pulls a phallic looking device from the woman’s buttocks causing her anus to pucker outward. As he rolls up the device, Claussen comments, “Well, I had to clean her out . . . there’s nothing but clean, safe sex for me!” Working the remote control once again, Claussen turns the Latino 180 degrees back. The Professor then grabs hold of the waistband of her female jockstrap, pulling it down over her soft underbelly. With painstaking care, the professor removes the tube that he had stuck up her vagina, so many hours ago. He eventually removes the wiring harness that snakes its way around the young Latino’s body.
Bridget watches Maria’s face for any hint of movement. But the girl remains in a state of vacant limbo. . . .
Suddenly Bridget feels a prick in the back of her neck! The room begins to look distorted and Bridget feels a slight touch of nausea. . . .
“Now just relax, Bridget. In a moment, I will move Maria to the pose room. Then it will be your turn!” Claussen says with anticipation.
The professor squats down and wipes the remaining tears from Bridget’s eyes. Bridget attempts to cock her head off to the side in protest but feels her muscles starting to get sluggish and hard to move.
“You know, the formula is the key. It took me many years to perfect. You see, the camera I used on you three earlier is only temporary. But the special embalming fluid I use . . . is much more permanent. This special fluid is only used on living beings, unlike the embalming fluid they use on the dead. My formula acts like a muscle relaxer. It stiffens the muscle tissue yet preserves the skin, leaving it in a pliable state. This is why all of my dolls can be posed . . .well, with some effort of course! I wanted my dolls to not only look realistic, but to feel realistic, as well.
Claussen rambles on until he happens to look down and notices that Bridget has already succumbed to the drug he has given her and she remains frozen looking at the preparation table. The Professor smiles and brushes the bangs away from Bridget’s eyes once again, then turns to her friend Maria. He proceeds to pick her stiffened body up, then sets her down on a nearby gurney. Claussen visually gives the girl's nude body “the once over” then looks into her dilated eyes, and asks, “Now, where did you hide that Hooters uniform of yours, darling? I think it’s time to put you to work!”