Mannequin X

All characters of age. This one escalated quickly, then abruptly kind of ends. I feel like if the reader wants more, I've done my job. Sometimes, I question if I pull back too far. Feel free to let me know. Like most of my stories, it involves a ridiculous situation with a bit of a "free use" theme. Enjoy

*****

The investors were going to be very happy. As I looked her over, I knew Mannequin X was going to be a total success. It was sure to be a hot seller in the retail clothing industry, I thought. It was so very lifelike, like nothing I'd seen before. Up til now, attempts at creating "lifelike" mannequins hadn't been successful. Some artists and manufacturers got close, but the finished products always had a creepy vibe to them, I can't explain it any other way. This didn't, though.

I was staring at Mannequin X while sitting in the front chair of the conference room. I was the first to arrive for the scheduled meeting, as usual. I always show up early for appointments, just a habit. I've worked for Lovecraft Modeling & F/X for nearly two years. I love the job, as it exercises the creative side of my brain.

Lovecraft specializes in making lifelike mannequins and prosthetics for Hollywood films. We are hired regularly for scenes requiring special effects with bodies, or even parts of bodies, to be used in place of actors. CGI isn't always the way to go, and we maintained a healthy flow of business.

A year ago, a different kind of company hired us, an upscale clothing chain called Fortana Fabrics. They wanted us to design a mannequin so lifelike, it could fool people into thinking they used real life-models in their retail stores. The company also intended to sell this design to other stores and chains for a costly premium.

By the time we were finished with the prototype, I don't think anyone at Fortana Fashions (or even us) expected the results to look so good... so perfect. The mannequin looked exactly like the model we'd hired when we began the project, right down to the very pores in her "skin" and the moving body parts. Even the jaw. We worked with some high-tech synthetics to make the flesh.

Mark designed the most ingenious part. It was what separated us from the competition, and contributed to what made Mannequin X look so real. The flesh had pores essentially built into the mold. Before the body was wrapped in the frame, or the "skeleton" as we called it, Mark seal a plastic to the back of the skin. After the skeleton was "wrapped" he squeezed an epoxy into a tube that he put into the plastic.

The pores of the skin allowed tiny strands of this epoxy to just barely squeeze through. When it dried, bonded through the skin, it looked and felt like little hairs. A process that once would take thousands of man hours had been reduced to about twenty. The flesh also felt very close to real, as the material was made to conduct and insulate heat, putting its temperature almost as high as a real person's.

I envied the body of Mannequin X. It stood there naked, with perky B-cups (perhaps on the fuller side of that), with a slim waist and small, shapely hips. A bit narrower in the hips than me, but my tits were easily twice as large. Unlike hers, which were pert and high, my breasts resembled giant rockets. My nipples are - by the grace of God - well positioned on the fleshy mounds, but they are larger than average, with areolas at least five inches in diameter. I had features and a figure that would never be found in the pages of Playboy, or walking the latest fashions on a catwalk.

It's why I wished I had the body of this mannequin. The girl who modeled for it was very pretty. If I had a body like hers, I would show it off all the time. No wonder she modeled for a living. I always fantasized about being an exhibitionist. The thought of being naked in front of strange people excited me, and I masturbated to that idea frequently.

I never had the courage to do it, though. I figured my "cow-like" features would be a turn off to most men. Here I was, at the age of 23, never having been with a man, much less seen by one. Well, that wasn't exactly true. Up until a year ago, my brother lived with me and on a couple occasions he saw me naked. He teased me about my big tits, so it didn't make me feel better about them. In fact, he was the first to refer to them as 'udders' back when I was eighteen.

Just then, Bill Jennings stormed into the meeting room. He was a good friend of my folks and also the reason I'd landed this job. I'd known him long before starting here. "Mary Brooks!" he yelled, staring me down. Bill always called me by my full name. It was actually his way of saying he was relieved to see me. "Did you hear about Cindy?"

Cindy McCabe was the model we'd hired to make the prototype. If the investors loved her look, hundreds of naked Cindy McCabes would be scattered throughout the east and west coasts, in every Fortana Fashion's location. I always wondered what Cindy thought about that, as the finished product looked exactly like her, in every detail. There was no getting around the fact that employees, perhaps even customers, would grope the mannequin just to see what it was like. The flesh felt every bit as authentic as the real thing... so far as I could tell.

"What about Cindy?" I asked.

"She can't make it. Came down with the flu."

"Oh, that's terrible," I said. "That blows our plans."

The investors were coming by to see the finished prototype in about fifteen minutes. It's why the mannequin and I were in the meeting room, waiting on everyone. For dramatic effect, we planned to have Cindy here, standing naked next to her synthetic doppelganger. We were going to shock the audience by allowing them to guess which was the real woman and which one was the mannequin. If Cindy could keep still long enough to pull it off, it would be genuinely difficult to tell the two apart.

I thought the presentation would be cute - and certainly effective and memorable - but being able to stand like a mannequin for more than a few seconds is far more difficult than most people know. It probably wouldn't take long for us to know who was the real person. The trick is controlling your breathing and "zoning out" as it were.

During my childhood, my best friend and I used to play dress up where we would each pretend to be a "store doll" as the other selected a wardrobe. Shelly and I actually got very good at "freezing" in place and continued exercising the craft well into high school. 4H and Drama Club loved having us work Halloween nights, because we would play Gothic statues. When kids got close, we'd spring to life, chasing them away and scaring them to pieces.

I digress...

"Angie and Mark are terribly upset," Bill said.

Mark Lovecraft started the company after freelancing for Winston F/X and Marson Media. Angie Perkins was his first hire and it led to a romance. They eventually married, but Angie retained the role of Office Administrator, managing the day to day duties, but not getting so much into the physical work anymore. Angie was also seven months pregnant with their first child.

Bill continued, "They were really hoping to compare this mannequin to a real person. I was wondering, Mary. Would you be willing to stand in for Cindy?"

I was shocked by the question. Utterly stunned. I couldn't for a minute imagine presenting myself naked to people for real, even if I did fantasize about it. I protested, "Uh, the reason Cindy needs to do it, is because she is identical looking to the mannequin. I don't look anything like her."

Bill conceded the fact, holding his palms up and shrugging. "Mary, of course that would be the best case scenario - to use the same model as we used for the mannequin - but the thing is, any other body will do. The investors still have to guess which one is real, and which one isn't. They haven't seen any pictures of the work in progress, so they have no idea what the prototype looks like."

"I... I don't..." My mind race for objections.

"Thank you so much, Mary. It means the world to us."

"But I... I don't know if I could do that, Bill!" I shouted, just before he made it out the door.

He stopped. "Consider this. You may well be saving the company. We intend to land extra premiums and lock in loads of sales on this first impression. Will you please do it?"

"No one is going to believe I am the mannequin." I exclaimed. "My proportions are ridiculous." I was grasping for anything.

"No, I think you're wrong. I think the investors will believe you are the mannequin, because the other one looks... too good... uh... I don't mean that in a bad way, Mary. Quite the opposite. You're just... uh... how do I say this? Perhaps... you're... too much... over the top, as it were? Like, it's almost unbelievable that a girl could have your figure."

I wasn't sure what he meant by all of it, but I knew I couldn't do it. It would kill me! I feared being naked in front of strangers, much less my co-workers? Besides Mark, Angie and Bill, there was also Lucas Gladstone. He was a young kid (neck-beard) right out of f/x and makeup school. He was always eyeing me. I think he has a tit fetish, because his eyes are like magnets to them. I got used to it after the first few weeks and it's bearable with clothes on, but naked? Ugh.

"You trust me, don't you?" asked Bill.

He stepped away from the door and walked back back towards me. At 43, Bill was attractive for his age, but he was also goofy at times, sometimes embarrassingly so. Tall and slender, with a swimmer's body, but such a klutz. He frequently tripped over his own feet. He was like an entertaining and cool uncle to me in many ways.

"Of course I trust you, Bill," I sighed. I didn't think trust had anything to do with this. Courage, maybe. But of course I trusted Bill. He was a best friend to my parents as long as I can remember. He not only helped me get this job, he even helped get me into art school.

Trust was not the issue here.

"Take off your clothes," he barked.

Okay, maybe it was.

"What?" I screamed.

"I mean it. Take them off, Mary. I promise, I will show you how to get comfortable being naked, very easily. You might be nervous now, but you won't be by the time everyone shows up."

"You don't understand," I pleaded.

He interrupted. "It doesn't matter how shy or embarrassed you are now, you're going to be fine. You just have to trust me. You'll be more confident naked, than you are with clothes on when I'm done with you."

"I don't believe you." Now I was pouting. And frightened. Shaking.

"You won't know unless you just do it. Now come on already."

I don't know how I managed the courage, but I found myself stripping out of my shoes first, followed by my hose. When I slipped off my shirt, I saw Bill pause. Even he was shocked how my breasts looked bigger out of my shirt than in. I was good at choosing tops that minimized their appearance, so I wouldn't look so slutty.

"Go on," he said.

I took a breath and quickly popped off the bra. My boobs are large and heavy, and they tend to "spring" out of my bras when I take them off. They also drop a couple inches, but mostly, they just pop out, and into their natural, cone-shaped appearance. I use bras to push and shape my breasts into a rounder look, as much as I do for support.

I was mortified what Bill's reaction would be to seeing these giant tits exposed, so I chose not to watch him. Instead, I closed my eyes and stripped off the last article of clothing. My panties.

"There. I'm freaking out right now!" I said, arms in the air. I almost wanted to cry as I trembled in front of Bill. I wanted to cover myself badly, but instead I held my hands to my sides. It felt awkward when the natural inclination was to hide.

Bill picked up my clothes from the floor and said, "OK. I'll be right back."

He rushed out of the room with me screaming at him, "No! Don't take them! No! Come back here!"

My pleading went unanswered and I was left alone for several minutes. I tried to cover my flesh, but to no avail. I looked silly trying to cover such huge amounts of flesh, with such thin arms and small hands. Finally, the door opened and Bill reappeared.

"Sorry. Had to be done. Don't want you chickening out." My clothes were no longer in his possession.

"That was mean, Bill. Where are my clothes? Go get them. I can't do this!"

"Yes, you can. I told you, you can." Bill began walking to me, arms outstretched, but palms down. His way of asking me to settle down.

"You lied to me," I said.

"No, I didn't. I said you would be confident, and you will be."

"How?"

"Mary, how long have we known each other?"

I slowed my breathing and tapped my fingers on my leg. "A long time, I don't know."

"I went to your Confirmation, remember? Even went with you and your dad to Disney, when your Mom had to cancel on that vacation to help her mother. That was such a long time ago. You were maybe eight?"

I nodded. I wasn't comfortable being naked in front of Bill, I really wasn't... but I also wasn't uncomfortable. Bill didn't have to bring up our history, we had a long and deep one. I never once was concerned that he would abuse my trust.

I genuinely knew Bill was asking this of me as a favor, knowing it would make for a great presentation. I was the only girl who worked here, other than Angie who is pregnant... and she's also the boss' wife. Bill's actions are a matter of convenience, I knew that. If it were anyone else, under similar conditions, he would be asking the same of them, too. I just worried if I had the courage. Until now, I had never been naked in front of anyone.

Bill continued talking, "I remember how you and that girl..." he began snapping his fingers - "Shelly Pilmer," I interjected, naming my only real friend growing up - "yeah, how you and she used to play statues or whatever."

"Something like that."

It dawned on me that Bill had diverted my attention enough that he had eased my panicked state. Now, instead of experiencing fear or humiliation when I caught him glancing at my bosom, I instead felt a touch of confidence. I held my ground, appearing professional and able.

"I remember how good you two were at that game, so of course I had to ask you to do this, Mary. You're the natural choice. And while I know you're thinking about how embarrassing this will be, I think I have advice that will make it easy for you."

"Easy? Really?" I scoffed, shaking my head. I was still deeply flushed. There was no question I was embarrassed about being nude. Still, I was bearing it and feeling better about it with each passing moment.

"You may not remember this, but I once asked how you were able to stand still for so long. To stay in that frozen position. Do you remember that?"

"Oh yeah, I think so. When you chaperoned at that After Prom party." Shelly and I had been egged on to do our statue pranks there. They always went over well.

"You said the trick was that you could block your mind from any external distractions."

This was true. It was the literal breaking point for Shelly and me, when we discovered this mental exercise. After you get the breathing down - where it is autonomous, and you can breathe without moving a muscle - you can then "zone out" and stay frozen like that for long stretches of time. You can even see most everything going on in the environment around you, without the need for moving or shifting your eyes.

Shelly and I went from holding a pose for five minutes to five hours. I've heard this is a skill that many life models develop, too. By disassociating the mind from the body, time seems like it never passes, yet hours could go by, and yet still you are aware of your surroundings. It's a meditative state, achieved by yogi and others like me, around the world. What Shelly and I were doing wasn't new or groundbreaking. It was just the perfect tool for becoming a perfect, still life statue.

"So I am thinking, you should go stand next to the mannequin now, and get into that mental state. Challenge yourself, like you and your friend used to do, over how frozen you can be, no matter the distractions. Do you think you can do that?"

I laughed, thinking back on a memory. "Once," I said. "I beat Shelly by eleven minutes. We both had gone over nine hours in one frozen position."

"Do THAT! Get your mind into that mode, and I am betting it will not bother you one bit that you are naked."

I sighed. Maybe he had a point. The exercise did relax me, and though I hadn't done it in a while, by virtue of habit, I could be settled into a pose within minutes. I knew that. "Fine. You got me. I'll try."

Bill smiled and pumped a fist, but I noticed his eyes were squarely on my tits,not my face. At this point, I just wanted to laugh, though. I couldn't believe I was going through with this.

I moved over and positioned myself next to the mannequin, mirroring her standing pose. It was an easy one, having me looking forward. Already, my eyes were fixed, seeing everything and nothing at the same time. I began allowing my mind to exit my body, as it were. It's the way I often viewed the process.

The mannequin and I stood tall, elbows out, hands on our hips. Bill gasped on about how hard it was to tell which looked more real than the other. I absorbed his comments, but held the pose, practiced.

"Wow, Mary. That is something. You could be a life model. That's amazing. It's incredible how hard it is to make out which of you looks more like a real person. If I didn't already know, I think I would pick the mannequin, as your proportions simply look unbelievable. Like I said before, I mean that as a compliment. You are beautiful, Mary. But such a large... bosom... to such a thin frame. Like a Barbie doll, with bigger tits,maybe."

I chuckled now, easing the pose for just a moment, before settling back into the exercise. It felt good to be admired. Here I was, standing completely naked, about to be seen by strangers, and I realized Bill was right. I was confident. In fact, I looked forward to the experience.

"No matter what, don't break your pose," said Bill. "I want them guessing the whole time. We won't tell them until after they sign the contacts."

I stayed stoic.

"I mean it. This is going to be great. No moving!"

Just then, the doors opened and in walked five people, one after another, into the meeting room. It included the rest of our team, Angie, Mark and Lucas, as well as a strange man and woman, both in their mid-forties I would guess. As I stood next to the mannequin, facing them, utterly motionless, I saw Lucas close the doors behind them. Then his eye caught me. "Oh my god, is that Mary!" he screamed.

I held my pose, vowing not to break it, even though I dreaded the thought of Lucas seeing me this way. The others, I didn't mind at all, which seemed odd to me already. I began to allow my mind to drift more, to just focus on my breathing and the pose.

"Hush!" shouted Bill, to his coworkers. "Do NOT give away which one is Mary. Mary is filling in for Cindy, who could not make it today. We do not want Mr. Thompson and Miss Greentree to know which of these two is a real person, so please refrain from doing or saying anything that might identify Mary. We are going to follow through with our presentation just as we intended."

Lucas nodded his head and quickly rushed to a chair near me, staying quiet. He didn't keep his eyes off of me or the mannequin, taking notably longer pauses on me. I think he only looked at the mannequin to appease his bosses, and hopefully not give anything away. The rest of the group also made their way around the table, getting seated.

"That really is very impressive," said the male visitor, Mr. Thompson.

"It is quite something," said the woman, his co-investor. "So you're telling us that one of these two mannequins is an actual woman, and one of them is the product?"