Plastic

Beth isn't looking forward to spending the night alone in the clothing boutique she works in, putting together mannequins for the morning shift. But while trying to figure out exactly how her store mannequin could stay in the pose she built them in, she's find herself frozen by some strange magic, becoming a human mannequin.

A long night leads to an exciting morning when Kyle on the morning crew comes in to do the new floor set, and discovered the new mannequin is far more anatomically correct than any of the previous models.

Warning: this 5,000+ word story is for adults only.

All characters involved are over 18. Adult situations, agalmatophilia (fetish for statues, dolls, etc), loss of control, voyeurism, exhibitionism and fantastical intimacy is included.

Excerpt:

“Finally, we get a model that looks better in the clothes…don’t have to clip you into them, do we.” Kyle never made his opinion on their mannequin secret. She felt another little burst of pleasure that he seemed to enjoy her. “Don’t know why Beth dressed you in the fall styles…maybe she was dressing you to look like her.”
Leaning forward so they were almost nose to nose, he snorted. “Damn, you do look just like her. She’s gonna get a kick out of this.” He pulled back, glancing around the store. “Now I gotta find a place to put you.”
He vanished again, and she could hear him walking around the room with his long strides. Was she smiling? Perhaps it was good she couldn’t move, because if she could she knew for sure she’d have the stupidest grin on her face.
Suddenly she felt hands around her waist, and then an odd feeling of weightlessness as Kyle lifted her up. He grunted at the effort, clearly not expecting her to be as heavy as she was. Most mannequin were hollow inside, and that, thankfully, didn’t seem to be true for her. Shifting her weight, he moved to get better grip, and if she had any lingering doubts about how abnormal her lack of movement was, it was confirmed as his hand slid between her clothed thighs, fingers pressing firmly against her as he lifted her up again. It sent a shock through her, snapping her back to full awareness, but her body didn’t move at all. Instead she had to feel the frustratingly pleasurable pressure as her body rocked against his fingers with the movement.
He set her down, and she wanted, badly, to let out a disappointed cry as his hand slid away from her. But, of course, nothing came out, and she was set up facing a bank of mirrors in the dressing room. Seeing herself for the first time since last night, she wasn’t sure what to think. She was still herself, but her skin had a sheen to it, like plastic, while her eyes were staring in a vague way into the distance. It was odd, how inhuman she looked, and it suddenly made sense that Kyle assumed she was just some oddly similar looking mannequin to his co-worker. On some level, she no longer looked like a real person.
Somehow, at the stroke of midnight last night, instead of her carriage turning into a pumpkin, she’d become a mannequin.