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Disclaimer: The following story involves transformation fantasy featuring magic, gender, flattening, animal, or inanimate (often clothing or doll/mannequin). The story is implicitly erotic in nature and may feature sexual situations and/or BDSM. All characters involved are older than 18 years of age. If you are offended by this type of thing, please stop reading.
She had lost both arms in a car accident during college.
Now 32, with the accident years behind her, she had come to terms with her new body, but not without it changing her personality.
Gone was the vivacious girl I had dated in high school, and in her place was a woman far more reserved and complacent and dependent on others, a girl who fought with bitterness and lost that fight more often than not.
“You know you're still the most beautiful girl in the world, don't you?” I told her over brunch at her home on a Saturday morning in April.
“I bet you say that to all the armless girls.” She smiled as she spoke, trying to turn it into a joke, but there was so much noticeable sadness still behind the words.
“Nope. Only the most beautiful ones.”
I stood up from the table and walked over to her, then kissed her forehead.
“Stop it, silly,” she said. “You don't get to just kiss me because I don't have any arms to stop you.”
“Why not? That's the best reason of all to kiss you, I'd think.”
“Just you wait until I'm standing up again. I'll kick you so hard.”
I laughed. “I'm sure you will.”
She joined the laugh.
“You know I love you, right?”
She rolled her eyes at me.
“I know you feel sorry for me.”
“Don't be like that, Erica. I think I've loved you since that day you walked into my homeroom at Della Ridge Elementary. You were the girl of my dreams then, and you're still the girl of my dreams now.”
“Right,” she said, still trying to laugh it off. “I'm the perfect girlfriend for any guy who wants to date a dressmaker's dummy.”
I scooted my chair closer to hers, and I rested my hands in my lap.
“What?” she asked.
“I mean it. I know I've asked you out a hundred times already this year, but I'm not going to stop until you say yes.”
“Jarrod,” she said then let it go.
“Jarrod what?” I asked.
She looked away, off to the acres of beautiful gardens the settlement after the accident had allowed her to buy. “I just don't know how else to say it. I'm not really the kind of person people date anymore. And I don't want you to settle for someone you're going to have to take care of. You deserve better.”
I gently grabbed her chin and turned her to face me. “I'd think that was my decision to make. But then again, maybe I'm stupid.”
She sighed.
“Can you please let go of my chin? I'm not a puppet you can just move into any position you wish.”
“Whoa,” I said, letting go and leaning back in the chair. “Where the hell did that come from all the sudden?”
She shook her head.
“It's not sudden. I'm not sure why you think you love me, but I figure it has to be one of two things. They're the only two reasons any guy is interested in me now. You either pity me or you see me as some kind of living doll. And I don't want to be either pitied or the object of some fetish.”
“Erica, this is me we're talking about. Jarrod Delroy. Remember? Not some freak you met on a paraplegic dating site.”
She looked away.
“I know. But that doesn't change anything.”
I moved my chair back in place and stood up. “Okay.”
“You don't have to go,” she said, suddenly softer and apologetic.
“I'm pretty sure we both know I do. I may be stupid, but not so stupid I can't get the message.” “Jarrod?”
I shook my head. “I'll call you later,” I said as I wiped my hands then dropped the cloth napkin onto the plate.
“Jarrod?”
“In a few days.” I turned and made it a few steps away, then stopped. Without turning to face her I was determined to say what was on my mind. “Listen, The only person here who sees you as a puppet is you. For some reason you still see yourself as broken, as less than an amazing, beautiful woman. I thought I could get you to see yourself through my eyes but I guess I was wrong. Maybe you're not the woman I thought you were. Maybe you are just a broken doll. Maybe that's all you'll ever be if that the only thing you'll ever be able to see in the mirror.”
“Jarrod. Listen. I'm sorry. I'm...”
“I'll call you in a few days,” I said and I continued walking toward the garden gate.
“I'm sorry,” she said again, but the sound was already fading in my ears.
I fought the urge to call her before the following Friday, and I nearly lost the fight several times, but somehow I held on strong and didn't respond to her messages or emails until I was good and ready.
She had crossed a line, and she needed to learn that. If she remotely thought I pitied her, then she'd have to learn that I didn't and that I'd treat her just like any other woman. No special treatment. No easy forgiveness just because she was missing her arms.
While I was at work on Friday an email arrived from Erica. I clicked it open, as I had all the others, whether I planned to respond or not.
“Dearest Jarrod,” it began. “I was a bitch, and I'm sorry. Maybe you're the only person who doesn't see me the way I see myself. I still don't know if it's fair to even ask this, but if you really want to see me as more than just a friend, I'll be at Ka Nani, the fancy new Hawaiian place on 3rd Street, tonight at six p.m. Don't feel obligated. I know I really pissed you off, and all I can say is that I'm sorry.”
I smiled. Sure, I was still pissed, but she was willing to extend an olive branch. The least I could do was accept it.
When I met her that night, I had to pick up my jaw from the floor. She looked astounding. There was something even more erotic about seeing an armless supermodel in a turquoise, form-fitting dress. Even I had to resist the urge to see her as doll-like in the fancy outfit.
“Wow,” I said.
She smiled. “Thanks. I guess that means you approve.” I nodded. “You look fantastic.”
“Thanks. I don't usually go out in public, as you know, because of the stares. And I seem to get even more of them if I go somewhere nice and wear something like this.” She motioned to the empty chair across from her with her eyes. “And not because of the curves. I don't know. I just feel so much more like some kind of living mannequin sometimes when I'm dressed up.”
“You shouldn't,” I said. “Even the best mannequin has nothing on you, Erica.” She shot a fake glare at me, then grinned. “Nope. You're wrong. They have arms.”
“Okay, then. Even the best dressmakers dummies have nothing on you,” I corrected myself. “Much better,” Erica said with another wide smile. “When you live as close to them as I do, you have to understand these not-so-subtle differences.”
“You're weird. It's a good thing you're so gorgeous,” I said.
“And you sir get the award for best save of the night.”
I leaned over and kissed her forehead before taking my seat.
She sighed and smiled. “I thought we talked about that.”
“Hey, you're the one who treats herself like a doll. I figured I should take a shot.” “Charmer,” she added.
She looked like she was about to say something more when the waiter arrived. He looked to her, took a few extra moments to realized that what he thought he was was what he really saw, then looked to me. “Would you like to place your drink order?”
I nodded. “A bottle of a good Pinot Noir.” I looked at Erica and winked. “And two straws please.”
She actually laughed. The waiter looked like he wanted to join us in the joke but wasn't sure if it would be appropriate.
“Goofball,” Erica said. “But good choice.”
“I know.”
“Very good,” said the waiter and excused himself.
“Two straws,” Erica said, rolling her eyes at me.
“When in Rome,” I said.
“Thanks. Believe it or not, even that is one of the small things that I have to think about that normal people don't. I'm a grown woman who has to drink wine through a straw.”
“I could always just hold the glass up to your lips,” I said with a laugh.
“You laugh, but wait until you have to feed me during dinner.”
I laughed even harder. “Oh shit, that's right. I didn't even think about that.”
“I never have that luxury,” she said, her voice suddenly losing its humor. She sighed, not heavy, but not playful either this time.
“Don't worry about it. I'll be happy to feed you. I could even get behind you and pretend to be your arms like those skits we used to do at camp during the summers.”
“You wouldn't dare,”
“Depends on how nice you are to me during dinner,” I said. “You do know these heels have pointed toes and will hurt later.” “I wouldn't dream of it any other way,” I said. “Such a goober,” she said.
I grinned.
“But I am serious about you needing to feed me. That's just the way it is if you still want to date a dressmaker's dummy.”
“Then I guess I have no choice if you are willing to date a regular kind of dummy.”
We shared a laugh and the waiter arrived with the wine and poured two glasses and placed two straws on the table.
“Are you ready to order?” he asked, and we both ordered a pork plate with fancy veggies.
When he was gone, Erica grew quiet for a minute or so.
“Erica? Everything okay?”
She nodded. Then she changed her mind and shook her head. “I still feel like everyone is staring at us.”
“So, let them stare. They're only jealous because I'm here with the most beautiful woman in town.”
She rolled her eyes again. “We both know that's not true.” “You still really have trouble with all this, don't you?”
“I wish I didn't, but every day is a reminder that I'm not a normal girl anymore. Some days and better and some days are worse, but every day is still a reminder.”
“Did you never learn to use your feet instead?”
“Let's just say those people on YouTube make it look a hell of a lot easier than it actually is. And with the money I got from the settlement, I've got people on the payroll to be my hands. It's easier to be me at home because of that, but here, out in public, it's different. There, I'm the lady of the manor, but here I'm the freak with no arms.”
I tossed a one hundred dollar bill on the table and motioned for her to stand up.
“Come on,” I said.
“Wait. What are you doing?”
“It's a surprise.”
I gathered her about her shoulders and helped her up.
“What about our dinner,” she asked.
“It's paid for. I'm pretty sure they won't care. Now, come with me before I kiss you on the forehead again.”
She came with me.
We walked three blocks to a hot dog stand on the corner of 6th and Wilmont. I ordered two plain dogs with mustard.
“I take you out to a fancy dinner and you turn it into a hot dog date?” she asked.
“Shut up, Erica, and open wide,” I said as I held the dog in front of her mouth.
She opened up. “I hope this doesn't look as sexual to everybody and it feels it looks.” “Oh, just hush and eat this wiener,” I said.
Thirty minutes later, we were sitting on the pier in our fancy dinner clothes. She had loosened up and actually snuggled against me to keep warm against the cool evening breeze.
I instinctively reached to take her hand but ended up placing my hand on her bare thigh since there was no hand to take. I quickly removed it.
“It's okay,” she said softly.
“Are you sure?”
She nodded. “Listen. All those things I said the other day...” “It's okay.”
“It's not okay. I obviously have to work through a lot of things. And I've got a long way to go before I'll see my self as okay still. I've been locked up in my role as lady of the manor and it hasn't allowed me to be out in the world to actually have to face regular people except on the rare occasions when I visit specialists or my attorneys.”
“I don't understand.”
“Just hear me out. I've been treating myself as some kind of porcelain doll and having my staff take care of me, and that's not right.”
“Okay.”
“Anyway, I want to make some changes, but if you really love me like you say you do, I'm going to need your help to do it.”
“Sure. You know I'd do anything for you.”
“I was hoping you'd say that.”
“Of course. You can count on me.”
“Well, that's good, because I gave the staff two weeks off with pay, and I want you to stay with me for the next two weeks.”
“You want me to take care of you instead.”
“In a way. But I want you to help me work through some things in my head so I can better learn to take care of myself.”
“I don't understand.”
“Just say you'll help, and I can explain it all later.”
“Sure.”
# # #
“You want me to what?!” I asked as I stared at my gorgeous friend as she sat up on the edge of her bed in a flimsy, white silk nightgown.
“I want you to help me be the very thing I keep treating myself as so I can get it out of my system and out of my brain. I figure maybe if I can actually become it, then I can learn how much more I really am instead of it.”
“I get it in theory,” I said. “I mean, as an idea, but it just sounds a little weird.”
“I know how it sounds, but with the staff gone, if you don't help me, I'll be all by myself for two weeks and who knows what could happen. I could starve to death or fall and get hurt, or hell, even get trapped between a closed door with no way to operate the door knob and get loose.”
“How long did you take to work up that little speech?” I asked. “I'm half tempted to close you in a closet myself to test that last one.”
“Meanie.”
“So,” I said. “Just so I get this all straight. You want me to help you actually become a living dressmaker's dummy for a few days to help you stop thinking of yourself as a broken doll of a person?”
“Yes,” she said. “I hope that if I find myself stuck actually as one then I'll learn how I'm really so much more than that and how much I want to see myself as more than just part of a woman.”
“I guess...” I said.
“And I need you to help me do it. Plus I need you to take care of my basic needs while I'm in character because I won't have anyone else to feed me or take care of me.”
“Okay? I guess it makes some kind of sense.”
“Good. Can you help me get into my leotard?”
She got up and led me to her closet, then she pulled the sliding door open with her elegant, bare foot.
“Over on the left,” she said, “there are special leotards made just for me since the regular ones kept sliding off my shoulders. There are several so grab whichever color you want to see me in for the next few days.”
I rifled through the hanging outfits and grabbed a spandex leotard in a shiny silver color.
“How's this?” I asked.
“Perfect,” she said and let me back to the bed. “Can you help me out of this nightgown, please? And then you're going to have to help me into the leotard.”
“Wait. You want me to dress you?”
“Well, the princess' ladies-in-waiting are hanging out at the castle today, and if it makes it easier, just think of it as playing dress up with your own anatomically correct doll.”
“I've set it before, but you're weird.”
“In all the best ways,” she added.
“And you still wonder why I love you.”
“Now you're just being creepy.”
“Says the girl who just called herself my anatomically correct doll to play dress up with.”
“Point taken. Touche.”
I helped her out of the nightgown and soon she stood before me, a gorgeous nude statue of a woman, save for the pair of white panties, and it took all of my will not to touch her as she stood vulnerable and at my mercy. Even so, she caught me staring as I held the gown over my arm.
“Take a picture. It'll last longer.”
“A sculpture would last even longer,” I said, not feeling embarrassed in the least.
“Just call me Venus De Milo.”
“God, I want to hug you so hard right now.”
“Like I could stop you,” she said, but I couldn't tell if she were joking or serious.
I lay the gown on the bed and picked up the leotard. Kneeling in front of her, I opened one leg hole for her to step into the outfit.
“Um, Jarrod,” she said and I looked up, caught immediately by her amazing breasts, but I persevered and found her eyes. “I know you're not a girl and probably wouldn't know this, but I don't usually wear panties with my leotard.”
“Oh shit,” I said. “You mean...”
“Yeah,” she said, nodding. “You're going to have to take those off before you put the rest of it on. Sorry if that embarrasses you.”
I shook my head. “Not embarrassed, but trying to control myself. To be honest, this is kind of like a dream come true and I don't want to piss you off by getting grabby.”
“Well, I can still kick the hell out of you,” she said.
“Understand.”
“But that said, I can't stop you from admiring the view.”
“Well,” I said as I reached up and took hold of the lace top of her panties. “I've always told you how beautiful you are, and well, this is quite a view to behold.”
I glanced up quickly and saw that she was blushing.
As I slide the panties down her thighs to her calves, my position in front of her gave me a full vision of her pubic curls and her labia. She even smelled like a beautiful, heady musk, and I so wanted to bury my face inside her. But I simply pulled the panties to her ankles and she stepped out of them.
“Ready for the leotard,” I asked.
She shook her head.
“There's a corset in the top of the closet. If I'm going to do this I want to look as close to the real thing as possible.”
You want that under the leotard, not over it?”
She nodded. “Did you ever see a dummy wearing a corset?” she said.
“No,” I said with a laugh. “But I think maybe I'm about to.”
“Just you wait. I'll get you for that when I'm not naked.”
I went to the closet and grabbed the corset. Black leather with a whalebone for support, it felt like holding a piece of history.
“This the one?” I asked.
The luscious nude nodded.
I returned and fastened the leather around her waist, then worked the laces into the eyelets.
“I know this is going to be a little uncomfortable, but for the sake of the experiment, I want you to get me down to as small a waist as you can. I mean it. The lowest you can go that I can still breathe.”
“Are you sure?”
“If I change my mind, I'll let you know.”
“Okay. But if I think you're going to far, I'll pull the plug on this too. I want you to know that.” “That's why I trust you to be the one to do this, silly.” “Right.”
So I tightened it, using my elbows in the small of Erica's back to pull the laces until I thought she couldn't take any more.
“Measure it,” she said. “There's a tape in the top drawer of my dresser I bought just for this.
I got the tape and wrapped it around her tinier-than-normal waist.
“Twenty two inches,” I said.
She groaned. “Not enough. That's only three inches smaller than normal. You'll have to make it tighter.”
“Are you sure?”
“Please.”
I sighed.
Then I motioned her to the bed and sat her down. I pushed my foot in the small of her back and pull another few inches of lacing before tightening in a good knot.
“Ooh. That feels super tight. What's the measurement?”
She was really getting into it. And I had to idea that the idea of watching her already tiny waist continue to narrow was pretty damn exciting.
I measured. “Twenty inches.” She grunted.
“Can you try one more time?”
“Can you breathe okay now? Cause if you ask me, I think you look incredible right now.” “You always think that, and yes, I can breathe. This will be the last time. I promise.”
I rolled my eyes, took a deep breath, then shoved my foot into the small of her back again and pulled for all I was worth. She grunted and I almost stopped but she asked me to keep going on. After I helped another inch or two of lacing, I tied it off and measured.
“Eighteen inches, and I'm not going any further. I don't think it's safe.” “Then that'll have to do, Mr. Party Pooper. What do you think?”
I helped her stand up then she gave me a twirl. The corset not only constricted her waist to something inhuman-looking, but it also pushed her breasts to make them appear unrealistically massive. She looked more like a caricature of a woman than a real woman.
“I think you look amazing.” “Sweet talker,” she said.
Then I helped her step into the leotard and pulled it up and over her knees and hips, then breasts and shoulders. It fit full across her shoulders and snapped in place snug against her neck, like a spandex sack that covered her from crotch to shoulders.
It drew special attention to her missing arms, minuscule waist and giant breasts, and honestly she never had she looked so alluring. Sure, she had made the comparison to the Venus De Milo earlier, but it was different than that. It was as it she oozed sex and the empty space where her arms used to be made it that much sexier.
I had never been on to fantasize about amputees, but I couldn't resist the vision I saw in the specially designed leotard. She wasn't just beautiful. She was mesmerizing.
“Jarrod? Jarrod? You still here with me?”
I shook my head. “Sorry. God, you're amazing.”
“You keep saying that.”
“I know. Sorry.”
“It's okay. It really helps in an odd sort of way. The way you keep freaking out really does make me feel beautiful and special.”
“Well, it's only because you are.”
“That's sweet.”
She smiled.
I blushed bright red.
“Hey, Jarrod?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
“For undressing and dressing you? Not a problem.”
“No, silly. For being such a gentleman.”
“Well...”
“I'm serious,” she said. “With the staff gone, it's not like there would have been anything I could have done to stop you, and yet you never touched me or took advantage of me, even though I could tell you really wanted to.”
I sighed heavily.
“So thanks,” she said again.
“You're welcome.”
I had to admit that in the silver spandex workout suit, she did look a lot like a dressmaker's dummy. If her legs had been gone too along with her arms, she would have been a perfect living replica of one of the partial dolls.
I stood up and kissed her on the forehead again.
“Hey!” she said.
“Hey yourself,” I said. I pulled her into me. “Kick me if you have to but I want a hug.” She nestled against my chest and I breathed in the sweet, mint scent of her hair. I had never wanted a woman as much as I wanted Erica at that moment. She was right. She was alone and at my mercy. Anything I wanted to do to her was within my grasp. Only my willpower kept me from simply taking her. Sure, she might have gotten a few kicks in but eventually I could have easily parted her legs and had my way with her.
I shook the thoughts from my mind and looked down into her wide, blue eyes.
“You really do love me for me, don't you?” she asked.
“I must. Can't really think of any other reasons I'd do something crazy like this for you.”
“You're sweet.”
“Thanks.”
“Can you kiss my head again, please?”
I did as she asked.
She smiled.
“Do you really think I'm beautiful?”
“The most beautiful woman I've ever known. You have been since school.” “I'm not just some armless doll you can do what you want to?”
“If that were true, you'd already know it. Believe me.” “That big a temptation for you, huh?”
“Well, let's just say that the Venus De Milo ain't got nothing on you, Erica.” “So I'm not a doll. I'm more like a statue.” “You're a beautiful woman.”
She winked. “Can't a modern woman have it all and be both?” I let go and she pulled out of my hug.
“Follow me. I want to show you the next part.”
“You're the boss.”
“Not when we're finished, I won't be. Honestly, I'll be completely at your mercy then. I'll be completely dependent on you.”
“You can count on me, Erica.”
She led me from the bedroom to a set of spiral stairs and I followed the soft footfalls of her bare feet on the marble steps. When we exited the stairs, we went down a hallway and to an open door on the left.
“I intentionally chose this upstairs room for the experiment. I didn't want to be free to be moved about without it being an effort. Plus, if I'm going to become as much of an object as I apparently believe I am, then I need to be able to be left alone and ignored during large parts of the day.”
“Okay,” I said, not really believing my own comment.
Inside the room was a large mirror on a ornate, metal base, and a wardrobe filled with outfits. Dresses, skirts, tops, you name it. It was there. A few feet away from the mirror though was the most important piece that she had explained to me when she had presented the whole bizarre plan.
The base looked like the lower half of climbing gear. There were stirrups for each leg to fit through. The unit that connected to the stirrups also was mounted to a metal pole that was fit into a base containing four casters on which to move it around.
It looked honestly like some kind of torture device instead of something to keep Erica comfortable and safe during her experiment as a dressmaker's dummy.
“It's amazing, isn't it? You should see the other kinky shit they had at the place I order it from. I mean, really. People are into some weird stuff, right?”
“Are you the pot or the kettle in this case, Erica?”
She frumped her mouth at me. “Hush, you.”
I grinned.
“Anyway, I'm going to need your help to get into this contraption.”
Under her direction, I lifted her lithe form and adjusted her position as she slipped first one foot and then the other into the holes in the gear. Then I lowered her slowly until her toes just barely touched the floor.
“Once you fasten the belts I should be secure, as long as the base is as even distributed as the website claimed.”
So I set about fastening her into the straps. First I secured the one around her waist, and I had to tighten it to the last hole since the corset had reduced her waist so that it was almost too small for the strap. Then I tightened and fastened the belts around her thighs.
“How does that feel?” I asked.
She lifted her toes from the floor and wiggled in the base.
“Perfect. It doesn't feel like I can fall over. But can you come over here to catch me just in case, please?”
I nodded and stood behind her.
She really shook herself this time, but instead of falling over, she only rolled a few inches across the floor on the casters.
“Seems pretty solid to me.”
She nodded. “Time for the last step then?”
“Last step?” I asked. “I thought getting you in that contraption was the last step.” “Have you ever seen a dressmaker's dummy with legs, Jarrod?” “Um... What?”
She bent her leg at the knee. “I just need you to tie it off with the belt in the bottom of the wardrobe,” she said.
“You want me to take away your legs?”
“Just for the week. If I'm going to do this, then I'm going to do it right.” “You do know just how helpless you'll be if I do that, right?” She nodded. “In for a penny, in for a pound.”
“And what about when I'm at work? What if something happens to you?”
“You promised.”
“Shit.”
“Come here,” she said.
I walked to her.
“Hug me again, please,” she said, and I did. “I trust you, okay. I know you won't let anything happy to me. I know this is the only way I can safely get this crazy shit out of my brain and out of my system.”
“I get all that, Erica, but...”
“But nothing. If we're ever going to have a chance then I have to do this.” My shoulders slumped deeply. They had a mind of their own. “Shit.”
“I'll be fine. You'll take good care of me.”
I kissed her forehead again. That and the hugs were the only attention I had given her. This vision had been naked, then corseted, and now bound to a frame to be some kind of living mannequin and all I had done during the entire she had been at my mercy was to hug her and kiss her head. Either I was a fool or she was.
“Fine.” I smiled. “You do know that the more helpless you become, the more difficult you're making it for me not to play with you.”
She laughed. “I'm well aware.”
“And I think you may be enjoying being a tease just a little too much.”
“Well, to be fair, you will have me completely under your control for the next week. Seems only fair.”
“Yeah, with only my manners to keep me in line. You've got a wicked streak in you, Erica.”
She smiled.
“We'll see.”
I kissed her head again.
“Yeah, we'll see if you continue to trust me or if you never want to see me again.”
“Do you really love me?” she asked.
“You know I do.”
“Then I trust you.”
I sighed again. Then a second time and more deeply. “I'm going to need a cold shower after this.”
“Not before you fix my legs,” she said with a smirk.
I helped her bend her left knee and then I took a belt from the wardrobe and tightened it until her leg looked like it ended in a stub. Then I added a second belt between the knee and the upper thigh to keep it from coming undone. Once the left leg was taken away, I did the same to the right leg.
Looking at her hanging on the rolling frame, no arms, no legs, she really did look like a dressmaker's dummy.
“What now?” I asked her, trying to avoid the raging erection I felt starting.
“Now you dress me like a doll, silly. Just pick out an outfit.”
I walked to the wardrobe and looked through it. I skipped the really skimpy outfits and settled on a floral print sundress with spaghetti straps. I returned to her and slid the dress over her head and snugged it into place on her new doll figure. It clung to her new, enormous breasts, curved in with her tiny waist, then flared out across her hips. The bottom of the dress swished in the air below her. Not a trace of her legs was visible.
“It's amazing,” I said. “Now I know your costume for next Halloween.” “Turn me around. I want to see.”
“Wow,” I said. “You don't look real. I mean, your face is clearly that of a beautiful woman, but with no arms or legs and that incredibly miniature waist, I mean, you just don't look real.”
“So let me see,” she all but yelled.
“Seriously, if you wore a hood to match the leotard, you wouldn't be out of place in the back of a shop. Wow.”
I grabbed her hips and wheeled her a few feet from the mirror, facing it.
“Wow,” she said. “I really am some kind of doll.”
“Never,” I corrected her. “But you sure as hell do look like it right now.” “Wow,” she repeated. “Thank you, Jarrod, for doing this.”
“You just let me know when you want to get out and be regular Erica again.”
She shook her head. “I said a week and I mean it. At least that long. I need to push myself.” “Whatever you say, but it's going to get awfully lonely while I'm at work.” “That's fine.”
“I could leave a TV or radio going up here for you,” I said.
She shook her head. “Dummy's don't need such consideration. In for a penny...” “In for a pound, yeah. Whatever you say, Erica.”
She said nothing for a few minutes, just admiring her artificial looking new body in the mirror. I kept myself busy by admiring it too.
“How often do you want me to change your outfits?” I asked finally.
“As often as you want to. I don't want you to take my wishes into consideration at all. If you want change me once a day or ten times, I don't care. I'll be your doll to dress up. Hell, or undress. If you choose to leave me without an outfit and just hanging up like a forgotten dummy, that's fine too.”
“Like I could ever forget such a lovely doll.”
“Sweet talker.”
“God, you're so freaking beautiful. Even like this.”
I walked between her and the mirror just to take in the beauty of her new form. “Wow. I've never had a doll fetish, but I think you may have just given me one.” “It sure looks like it.”
I caught her staring at the erection I clearly couldn't hide anymore.
“I'll... uhh... I'll be back I a little bit.”
And without another word, I left her alone in the room to get lost in her own reflection.
# # #
I didn't return until a few hours later. My own lust was raging and I spent much of the time surfing porn and just beating off into a sock until I could think straight without taking advantage of Erica and losing her trust. When I did return to her she was quietly looking around the room while the setting sun made patterns on the floor and across her, criss -crossing her lovely new body with shadows and light. The surrealism of the image tightened my pants again, and I wondered if I hadn't waited long enough.
“Thank you,” she said softly when she finally noticed me watching her from the doorway.
“For what?” I asked.
“For everything. For doing this crazy thing for me. For putting me in such a pretty dress. For leaving me alone for a few hours to feel more like a doll.”
“Sure. Whatever you need, Erica.”
She shook her head. “Erica isn't here right now.”
“Then Erica can't get mad if I cheat on her with this amazing mannequin.”
She scrunched her lips, looked up and away, then turned to face me again. “No, she couldn't.”
I smiled and walked to her. I reached out as if I were going to grope her, then raised my hands to her face instead and pulled her to me to kiss her head.
I rolled her around the room as if we were dancing, and as we did, the room grew darker and pushed her base to a window that overlooked the rear garden.
“Are you going to leave me in the window?”
“Sure, Why not? And it will keep you away from the mirror and keep you from getting a big head.”
She glared at me and harumphed.
“Dolls don't get a say in where they get put, my love.”
“I suppose that's fair. But what if someone sees me? I sent the house staff away but I still have the regular lawn care people coming.”
“Then I guess they'll see a lovely doll in a lovely dress standing in the window. That's what you wanted, wasn't it?”
She looked at the floor, then back to me. She nodded.
“Or, if you prefer I could move you back to the mirror. It's up to you, Erica.” “Erica isn't here right now,” she repeated. “So it's entirely up to you.” “You're just a dressmaker's dummy, huh?”
She nodded.
“I'm just a dressmaker's dummy kept in an upstairs room.”
“I could think of so many things to do with you right now,” I said. “But I'm trying to be a good
boy.”
“I couldn't stop you.”
“Are you telling me you want me to?”
“I'm telling you that it doesn't matter what I want. I'm just a dressmaker's dummy in an upstairs room.”
“Tease.”
“Look who's talking.”
“Well, I could get in trouble for this, but here goes nothing.”
I spun her around to face me, and I gripped her sides so tightly I could count the seams in the corset, and I kissed her. She parted her mouth to accept me, and our tongues made out like two horny teenagers after the prom. When I pulled away her mouth was still open as if wanting more.
“I could really get used to that,” I said, and I leaned in for round two.
I awoke to the sunlight streaming in through the open windows, my head resting on my arm on the floor. Erica lay beside me where I had gently laid her rolling base on the floor beside me. She rested on her back, her eyes waking as I made morning grunts to shake the sleep from my own eyes.
“Good morning,” I said.
“Good morning,” she said.
“Did you sleep okay?”
“I'm on a rolling stand, unable to move on my own. How do you think I slept?” “I'm sorry.”
“It was either that of sleep standing upright. Well, not standing, but upright regardless. So on the floor was probably better all things considered.”
“Good, I guess,” I said.
I leaned over and kissed her, tasting her mouth and not caring that it was morning.
I stood her up and wheeled her back in front of the mirror.
“Poor thing,” I said, “your dress is all wrinkled now. Let's get your changed.”
I lifted the sundress off her, temporarily leaving her “naked” in her silver doll skin, while I rummaged through the wardrobe for something new for her to wear. I chose a black formal Victorian dress with long sleeves. When I pulled it over her and buttoned it up her neck the sleeves fell limply at her sides, reinforcing the fact that she was an armless doll. The long skirt hunt almost to the floor and swished freely in the air as I took her for a spin around the room on her casters.
For a change of pace, I rolled her out of the room and down the hallway. I guided her into a room with a yoga mat and a stationary bicycle. Then I wheeled her to a room filled with boxes of things from her former life that she couldn't use anymore or just didn't want to be reminded of. Finally, I rolled her to the edge of the spiral stairs.
“Just one small misstep and that would be scary,” I said.
She said nothing. Just looked at me.
I grinned. “Like I could ever hurt you, silly.”
Instead, I lifted her by the waist and carried her downstairs to the second floor. Even with the extra weight of the rolling stand, she was easy to lift and in a few moments I sat all four casters back on the hardwood floor of the second-story hallway. Then I rolled her into the master bedroom.
“I've decided I want to keep you in here instead. I want to look at you when I go to sleep and I want to see you first thing when I wake up in the morning.”
“Dolls don't get a say in where they get put, right?” she asked.
“That's right,” I answered.
I rolled her to her closet door and opened it. Then I removed the long dress I had just put on her. “Enough of those dress-up clothes upstairs. I think we should put you in something Erica would actually wear.”
I dug through the hangers of clothes until I found the tight, turquoise dress she had worn during our one date.
“That's the one,” I said, and her eyes lit up at my choice.
I dressed her and noticed that with her bigger boobs and smaller waist, the dress looked even better on her than it had just two nights ago, but I didn't say anything. No reason to make her feel bad. She was gorgeous now and she was gorgeous then.
The dress hung just below her bent knees and I rolled her back and forth a few times to make the skirt part sway below her.
Then I kissed her.
“So beautiful,” I told her.
She smiled.
“Well, my love,” I said. “I have to run a few errands today, so I'm going to leave you here for a few hours.”
“Where are you going?”
“What does it matter to a doll in a master bedroom?” I asked.
“You're right.”
“I'm going to get some clothes from my place,” I said, relenting. “I wasn't exactly planning on spending two weeks in the same two outfits. Besides, I need my suits for work.”
She grinned. I kissed her on the lips but didn't part them.
“You know I love you, right?” I asked.
“I know.”
“Like this. Like the other night. Like you were in college. Like you'll be in fifteen years from now. It doesn't matter.”
“You're all talk. You know that?”
“I'm a goddamn gentleman,” I responded.
“Dressmaker's dummies don't have feelings to take into account.”
“Well, beautiful girls named Erica do, and the last thing I want to do it piss her off because I couldn't keep it in my pants and had sex with her mannequin.”
“I have it on good authority that her dummy would probably know better and keep her damn mouth shut.”
I laughed.
“I think her dummy needs a cold shower.”
Then I pulled the sheet off the bed and covered Erica up like a rolling ghost.
“See you later, dummy,” I said.
It was almost two in the afternoon when I returned with a bag of clothes and a hanging bag for my suits. Erica still stood in the floor a few feet from the bed with a sheet over her. I quietly tiptoed into the bedroom and sneaked up behind her, then jerked the sheet away.
She screamed, and I spun her around and pulled her into me.
“Afraid you were about to become stolen merchandise, my love?” I asked as I kissed her deeply. “Oh, if I only have my leg now so I could kick you in the fucking balls, Jarrod. You scared the shit out of me.”
“I guess it's a good thing this doll doesn't have legs then.”
“What took so long?”
“Aw. Did you miss me?”
“Well, it gets boring, especially when you hide me under a sheet.” I grinned wickedly. “Poor thing.” She glared.
“I thought dolls didn't have feelings to take into consideration.” “You're really good at using my own words against me.”
“It's a gift,” I said. “And now, whose doll are you? Who do you belong to?
“I belong to Erica Duncan.”
“Good. Now, what's this?” I asked, holding up three one-hundred dollar bills in front of her. “That's three hundred dollars.”
“Good. Would Erica be willing to sell you to me for three hundred dollars?” She scrunched up her face in thought, then nodded.
“Okay, so it's a deal.” I put the money in the top drawer of Erica's dresser. “Now, you're my doll. Bought and paid for.”
She smiled, the corners of her lips curling up in a way that made my dick hard.
“That means you belong to me now.”
She nodded. “I belong to you now.”
“So I can do whatever I want to with you.”
“You can do whatever you want to with me. I belong to you now.”
“Good.” I covered her with the sheet again. “Then I want to do this again and go watch some TV. See you in a little bit, doll.”
I walked out of the room and waited by the door.
“Jarrod?” she called out. “Jarrod? Jarrod you bastard. Don't you dare leave me hanging like this.”
I waited another thirty seconds.
“Jarrod? Shit, did he really just leave me after buying me?” Another minute just to let her stew. “Fuck.”
I tiptoed back into the room, behind her, then I wrapped my arms around her waist, leaving the sheet over covering her.
“Miss me, my sexy dressmaker's dummy?” I asked.
“You're a prick sometimes,” she said.
“Oh, you'd rather I leave you alone again?”
“Don't you fucking dare? You just bought me like I was nothing but a piece of property, and that's got me so hot I can't think straight. And then you just walked off like I didn't even matter, and that just made it worse.”
I reached up and caressed her breasts through the sheet. She groaned from deep in her throat.
“Does my beautiful doll like that?”
She moaned.
“Does she like it when I play with her huge titties?”
“Yes, she fucking likes it.”
“Good. I'm glad. Because I love having a roll-around doll with such big titties to play with.”
I left one hand to play with her breasts then I left the other wander between her thighs, pushing the sheet, the dress, and the leotard against her pussy.
She moaned again.
“I really like this doll. I think I may have to keep it. I don't know if two weeks will be enough.” “Oh,” she said with a deep, breathy sigh. “I don't... Oh god... wait. Two weeks? When did I agree to two weeks?”
I pushed my finger hard against her lower lips and managed to just enter her.
She tried to push back against me but she was so secure on her rolling stand that she could do nothing to help herself grind. She was as inanimate as the dressmaker's dummy she was imitating.
“One week. Two weeks, Three weeks. A few months even. What does it matter? Once you buy something, it's yours until you either throw it away or sell it or just give it to someone else.”
I squeezed her breast and trapped the nipple between my thumb and forefinger.
At the same time, I moved up her slit and reached what I hoped was her clit.
It must have been because she shuddered and vibrated on her stand like someone had plugged her into an electrical outlet.
“And I recall someone telling me that it was up to me and that it didn't matter what the doll wanted.”
“I told you you were good at using my own words to trap me,” she almost whispered between deepening breaths.
“Words, belts, corsets, rolling bases. There are all sorts of things to use to trap a beautiful doll,”
I said.
Then I let go and the sheet hung limp over her again.
I stood without leaving, but didn't say a word.
“Jarrod?”
“Yes, doll?”
“Why did you stop?”
“Well, I remembered someone being afraid of being desired and wanted simply because they feared another someone might have a kinky attraction to women without arms or to dolls.”
“Are we really going to go there right now?”
“My, you're pretty vocal for a doll.”
“Please.”
“What do you want, doll?” I asked.
“I want you to keep going.”
“I thought it didn't matter what a doll wants.”
“Fine, I'm not a doll.”
“But you are. I bought and paid for you.”
“Jarrod, please.”
I spun her to face me, still trapped under the sheet. I leaned in and kissed her lips through the sheet. I grabbed her ass and pulled her closer to me.
She whispered a throaty moan.
I squeezed her breasts against my chest as I kept her close.
“I paid three hundred dollars for this beautiful doll.”
“I don't care. Just don't stop.”
I kissed her again. I pulled up the sheet so I could slip one hand under her dress. I kept going until the hand pressed against her silver skin. It was warm and moist from the excitement growing inside her and leaking out.
“Is this really what my special doll really wants?”
“Yes, fuck yes. This is what I want.”
I slipped the crotch of the leotard to the side to feel the warm, soft skin around her pussy. “What if I told yot if I gave youu tha what you wanted it would cost you another week as my very special, roll-around doll?”
“I don't care.”
I slipped on finger inside her, just a little bit, just enough to feel the wetness that gathered there near the surface.
“You're sacrifice another week trapped on a stand, at my mercy, just to get an orgasm right now.”
“Oh god, yes. I don't fucking care.”
I pushed the digit further inside and traced a wet curve inside the cave of her desire.
I rested my thumb against her clit, and she shuddered again, shaking the sheet that still covered her.
“Oh shit, that feels so good.”
“I'm not even doing anything yet, doll,” I said. “Do you like it when I call you doll, doll?” “God yes. I can't believe it, but yes. Fuck yes, it's making me super hot.” “My what a horny doll I just bought.”
“Fuck yes, you bought me. You own me. Just fuck me. Please.”
“But that would be wrong. After all, I remember someone telling me she wasn't a puppet to be played with.”
I could actually hear her sobbing opening beneath the sheet.
“Or maybe you think I'm only doing this because I feel sorry for you.” “Jarrod,” she said softly.
“Maybe this is just a pity fuck for a broken doll.” “Please,” she said, her voice almost fading into silence.
“Or maybe, just maybe I think this beautiful doll is the sexiest woman alive and I really, really do love her and want her to know that for real.”
As I spoke I pressed my thumb against her clit and stroked it in tiny circles, all the while working my finger inside her and squeezing her nipple with abandon.
She squealed loudly and shivered strongly enough to shake the stand, but I held her secure. She breathed heavily and continued to sob beneath the blanket.
I leaned in and whispered to her. “That's three weeks now, my love.”
“Yes, Jarrod,” she whispered.
“I love you,” I said.
She nodded.
“And you're mine now. Always will be.”
“Yes, Jarrod.”
Then I left the bedroom, turned off the light, and left her alone in the dark, still on her stand, still covered by the sheet, dripping tears and excitement in equal measures onto the floor beneath her.
# # #
After the first week, I took her off the stand and let her get a good night's rest, and when I awoke the following morning, she was already up, freshly showered and waiting at the stand.
“I promised three weeks,” she said. “And I belong to you.” She motioned with her eyes to the drawer where the three hundred dollars remained.
After the second week she did the same,
“You bought a third week with my orgasm,” she said.
“I did. But what about your staff? Don't they return tomorrow?” She shook her head. “It doesn't matter what a doll thinks or wants.” “It matters to me what the woman I love wants though.” “It depends.”
“Depends on what?”
“Would you be willing to move in with me?”
“I could be convinced.”
“Well, if each orgasm is another week you bought for me to spend as your doll, then the way I see it, you're going to have to move in just to give me time to cover all the time you'd purchased.”
“But that doesn't answer my question about the staff?” “Let them see. I think they'll be happy I'm happy.”
“You know. Just because you're my doll, that doesn't mean you have to be on the stand.” She cocked her head askance at me.
“Even without the leotard, even without the stand, you're still the most beautiful doll, and the most beautiful girl I know. I don't mind owning a living, breathing doll that can walk around all by herself on her own two legs.”
Her eyes grew wide.
“Even if I'm just me?”
“Erica. Just you is all I ever wanted.” I kissed the top of her head.
“We don't have to get rid of the stand, do we?”
“Never.”
She smiled.
“You know, just a few weeks ago I would have bitten your head off for calling me a doll even though that's all I really thought of myself as. Now, I don't mind. It's like I can be me, and I can accept that thanks to the accident, I look a bit like a doll. And that's okay. It doesn't change things.”
“Oh,” I said. “It changes things, but it only makes them better.”
“Then lie down and let your beautiful doll-girl show you what you bought and paid for, you silly pervert.”
I did. And she did. Then we fell asleep with her lying against my chest.
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