How the heck did I end up like this?
Oh, glad to see someone listening to me. Haven't had anyone actually know I'm alive for some time now. Then again, you’re probably just looking at my body. I can accept that. I can at least pretend you are listening to me so I don't go mad from boredom.
Well, where shall I start? I suppose it should all begin back when I was human. My name was Lillian. I had just begun my career working at a clothing store as a new register employee. It was my first day on the job so I was kind of nervous. I mean, the store was nothing if different from my last job working as a box girl at the grocery store.
Anyways, I seemed to be doing a fine job. All I really had to do was stand at the register and handle people who wanted their purchases rung up. It was easy money, really.
Then, 'she' walked up to the register...
"Excuss me, but I would like to file a complaint." The woman yelled. The woman was your average woman. She had medium build, slightly on the chubby side. Her breasts were petite, in between a B and C cup. She was dressed in tacky khacki pants, a horrible green 'lumberjack' shirt, and wore coke bottle glasses.
"Ok. How might I help you?" I asked.
I regretted those words. I was instructed to help customers with simple complaints and to take a little bitching, only asking for a manager to assist them if I was ether unable to help them or feeling threatened. I was feeling slightly uncomfortable, being the first time handling a complaint, but didn't realize I should have simply asked for a superior to step in while I had the chance.
The woman raised her right hand and pointed at the display in the window. "I demand you remove those mannequins. They give girls and men an unrealistic idea of beauty." She said, sounding annoyed but otherwise un-angered.
I looked at the mannequins. It was true these display figures were a little more proportioned unrealistically than generic store mannequins, being a bit more chesty then a normal woman would. Then again, they were modeling party dresses. "Well I can suggest that to the owner, but I really have no power to do anything," I told her simply.
The woman seemed annoyed by my statement but kept her volume the same. "I am not asking you, I am telling you: remove those mannequins from the front of your store." She spoke, a chill of coldness to her voice.
I felt like I had to get a manager down here but the glare that woman was giving me, her strange golden eyes looking right onto mine, was causing me to be frozen at my spot, unable to move. "I-I'm sorry but there's nothing I can do. Th-there’s nothing to replace those mannequins with if we were to take them down and I don't have the permission to, at any rate." I replied, trying to muster up some courage but showing my fright in my stammer.
The woman looked ready to snap but, like a switch was thrown, her expression changed to an odd smile. Her smile creeped me out more then her glaring did. "Well, I'm very sorry to hear that. Well, I'll come back another time then, when you have more appropriately 'natural' mannequins on display," She remarked, gently caressing my face with one of her fingers.
I felt a sudden spark go through me when a ring touched my skin. Afterwards, I felt very cold as the woman walked away.
I felt such a relief after she had gone. But, I continued to feel cold the remaining of the day, a sense of numbness gripping in my body, but I shrugged it off as butterflies in my stomach from this still being my first day.
The rest of the day went on as if that woman had never come in at all, like her complaint never happened. I handled more customers, got one or two simple complaints I was able to handle with ease, and I was even shown how to handle return claims.
Night soon came and it was time for the store to close up. I was instructed to stay after for a while longer, more as a favor then an instruction. The manager wasa running late; he was supposed to come in and take down the current mannequin display and swap them for a new style that had showed up late in the afternoon. Apparently the current display was getting some unfavorable comments; groups of mothers calling and sending in angry letters about the figures’ huge breasts and unrealistic proportions. 'That must have been what that woman was doing in here earlier,' I thought to myself.
I was asked, with overtime pay included, to take down the current display figures and put them in the back room. Afterwards, I would assemble the new shipment of mannequins and then just wait around until the other manager arrived. Simple really. I was more then eager to accept, considering how much money I heard I would get paid for the overtime.
Switching off the main store lights, I went about my task of undressing the sexy mannequins and carrying them into the back. While doing this, I kept started to feel stiff in my limbs. "Must be tired," I remarked to myself. It was my first day and it was going on 10 hours of work now. Still, things didn't feel right as it took me more effort than it should have to even move around.
I eventually got all the front window store mannequins into the back. I sat down and sighed. I was starting to feel very weak. I stretched my belly, that numbing feeling that had been lingering now was increasing. I stopped as I felt what was underneath my shirt. It felt hard and smooth, the complete opposite of what skin should feel like. Lifting up my shirt, I screamed in terror. My skin was same color, maybe a little lighter, but was now smooth solid plastic. My belly button was nothing more then an indent on the plastic made to look like a belly button.
I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I was in such a panic; without thinking clearly, I tore the clothing from my body, wanting to see what was becoming of the rest of my body. I looked below and found that there was now a line indicating a segment between my upper body and lower body. I could actually see as my pussy sealed up and the hairs flattened out, becoming textured plastic to give me the look of stylized pubic hair. I felt my legs beginning to stiffen up as they slowly broke up into segments, two joints at my hips and another two at each knee. My legs were now frozen in place and the feeling of numbness began creeping up my stomach.
I wanted to run, wanted to fight, but it felt as if my arms were forced into position, my right arm made to rest against my hip and my left forced outward and jutting out, both becoming plastic, stiffness now creeping up my arms. I attempted to cry out in fear but my vocal cords just wouldn't respond. I watched as my nipples went erect on my petite breasts. They soon became the same plastic color as the rest of my now plastic body, leaving only my head untouched.
Then it began. I felt my neck snap into place, focusing my head forward as my neck turned plastic, soon becoming another separate segment from the rest of me. My mouth slowly closed up, becoming seamless from the rest of the plastic. My nostrils followed. I felt my eyes glaze over and soon all was dark. I could only feel as my hair, like some bad wig, slide off my head. The numbing feeling subsided into a feeling of nothingness as I stood frozen, unmoving, all alone.
I was unable to see anything for a while, only knowing darkness. I began wondering: why me? Why this? I didn't do anything to anyone, so why did I deserve such a fate?
Light soon returned to my world, first to one eye, then to the other. It was the manager. She had apparently painted over where my eyes were as I noticed a paintbrush in her one hand and an easel board in the other. I found that it was near morning, and I was being pointed out into the street. I stood posed as I was before. I couldn't move myself to see what I was wearing but my reflection in the window revealed a stunning red party dress, pinned over to expose my leg. On my head I was given 'hair'; my hair, which had, indeed, become a wig during the transformation.
Afterwards, I just stood there rigidly for the longest time, days passing, completely forgotten. My managers didn't seem to notice the similarities of their new mannequin to their former, one day on the job employee.
Now I know what you’re thinking: enough bad luck to happen to one girl in her lifetime, right? Wrong. I'm just getting started. But I'll tell you more, later. I think my mistress is returning.
To be continued...