Mannequin – Erotica

The more he looked, the more he liked her. The mannequin was imperfect, one eye slightly lower than the other, and brown while the other was blue. She could have been a person once, he thought. She was always in the front window display at the lingerie store.

He had no wife or girlfriend, and the types of lingerie the store specialized in was a little too intimate to give to his mother or any of the other women in his life, so he had no reason to visit the store. He was only a custodial worker at the mall, and he had always lingered a little too long at the display. Looked a little too longingly at the mannequin with the imperfect eyes.

She could have been a person. A real person. He imagined her taking him, cold hard, plastic hands and leading him to the fitting room where she’d undress. Under her bra, two pink hard nipples, the perfect line of her belly leading down to her intimate plastic places. Did she have to be plastic, then? Undressing? Or could she be a real woman? She certainly looked like she could have been real. He always thought about this. It never left his mind.

Her hair was a blonde bob, but sometimes it was brunette curls that ran all the way down the S-curve of her spine. Her hair was as changeable as her arms, her hands, he legs. He wondered how she’d been pieced together in such a perfect and intimate form. Did the other men and women see her this way? A vision in hard, cold plastic, waiting to be turned into flesh and blood in the blink of his fantasies?

It was easy for him to think of her this way, he was always alone in this section of the mall at night. It had always been his dream to undress her, to feel her come to life and caress his skin. It had come time when he could no longer stand it. Tonight, he thought, if he lost his job, it’d be worth it to worship her molded frame, her sleek trim belly, her long shiny legs.

It would be a dream, he thought, if she came to life. But of course, she couldn’t, because she was only a doll. But that didn’t change his imaginings. Her name was Josephine, he decided. And she was just another med student modeling her body for a few quick bucks to pay her way through. He admired her through the glass display window.

The gate had been pulled down over the entrance to the store, but he had the keys. He unlocked it, removed Josephine from the display window and brought her around to the fitting room, with a bench and a floor length mirror inside. He locked the door behind them, and slowly undressed her. First her teal colored tier bra. Her nipples were not there. A shame, he thought. But he could imagine them just the same as he caressed her left side, that lump of hard molded plastic in the shape of a breast. He unsnapped the garters that held her stockings. All of these were the same teal. It wasn’t her best color, but she did look beautiful underneath.

“What are you doing?” A voice faint as a whisper said.

“Why are you undressing me?”

He looked up to see his beautiful molded woman come to life. Or he thought he saw her. Her blonde bob was instead the brunette curls that ran down her back. The teal of her bra, garters, stockings, panties, were a deep crimson.

“Is this what you wanted, Andy?”

The woman asked him.

“I… I. I don’t know.”

She slapped him hard across the face. Her plastic hand was instead firm, muscled flesh, but her palm was soft and plump.

“I asked if this is what you wanted? Because I’ve wanted you, too, Andy. I’ve seen you watching me. I’ve seen you during those long nights, when you’re emptying the bins and mopping the floors and wiping the benches. I’ve noticed you, too. And if you do not want this, then leave me now.”

Her bra, the deep crimson instead of the teal he had slid off of her shoulders was a bundle on the floor. Her nipples were an earthy brown, erect and pointing at him. She drew his head up from where he sat on the bench in the fitting room and used her hand to open his mouth, directing her nipple inside of those waiting lips and moaned when he flicked his tongue over her.

She was warm. A warm, flesh and blood woman. Real. One brown eye, one blue eye. Her makeup perfect, her skin flawless. He pulled down her panties with one hand while the other massaged her breast from underneath. He slipped his hand up to her cunt, and it dripped down onto his forearm. He couldn’t contain himself. He ripped down his pants, and threw her against the wall of the fitting room, forcing himself inside of her.

She moaned and groaned and grunted, pulling his hair, devouring his face. As he pumped he smelled her perfume, sweet spice, like clove and cinnamon and sweat. He lapped at her neck and twisted his fingers in her hair, thrusting until he was spent, her legs wrapped around him, letting out a final moan of satisfaction.

“Now,” she said, “Well, now you’re like me.” Much to his horror, Andy stood in front of the mirror next to the mannequin with the blonde bob, he himself now becoming the same molded plastic, though his body had become more perfect in this form. His penis was now only a suggestion. As his muscles became stiff, transforming into something trans-human, he pulled up his gray boxer briefs and admired himself in the mirror.

The next morning, when the shop opened, a new window display was set, a man and a woman, locked together in a lustful, though tasteful embrace.


“Try our new crimson line. He’s dying for it.” The sign read.


Published by

K.A. Wright

I believe in a few things, every so often.