Ellen was putting the finishing touches on the potion. "I think we're just about ready--"
"Should be," chimed Nancy. "You been workin' on the fuckin' potion for two weeks now."
If it wasn't for the fact that Ellen was living with Nancy and not the other way around, she'd have been pissed enough to tell Nancy to stop her bitchin'. After all, this was her fantasy, and Ellen had spent the better part of three months making this potion work.
But, as noted, it had been Nancy's money that had paid for the ingredients that had went into this mixture. And it was Nancy who was putting a (temporary) roof over Ellen's head. And Nancy did own the store where, when this was all over, they would both reside for a month.
Given all that, Ellen supposed that she could put up with Nancy's bitchin'. At least for a little while longer.
Ellen had meet Nancy on the Internet. In an online group dealing with the concept of women becoming mannequins, in actuality. Ellen had some slight interest in the idea of being prettified and being used as a display model, but Nancy . . . after a few conversations it was fairly obvious that becoming a mannequin was a full-time obsession with this girl. Ellen discovered that Nancy had spent time becoming a freeze model; that she'd bought mannequins and had sex with them; and most importantly she owned a couple of high-fashion boutiques and often did her own window dressing.
"If I could be a mannequin for just a little while," she'd typed on night, "I'd give about anything. Money, favors, glamour . . . sex. You name it, I'd hand it over in a second."
After a few more weeks of chatting Ellen asked if Nancy and she could meet. Nancy didn't have a problem with that--in fact, she was due to visit close to where Ellen lived for some business, and Nancy suggested that they get together for some dinner and discuss their mutual fantasy.
The meeting was, in a word, strange. Ellen might have been very straight forward online, but in person she was somewhat shy and introverted. Her blond demeanor and soft, squeaky voice were also a huge negative. The overall first impression one usually had of Ellen was of someone who was sexy but a little dumb.
Nancy was the opposite. She was brunette and sleek and sexy and very, very sure of herself. She was intense, just this side of intimidating, and Ellen was sure she could be a queen bitch when it was necessary. The fact that they had dinner in her private suite indicated to Ellen Nancy was the sort of girl who had some power --or at least a lot of money-- and was accustomed to getting what she wanted.
Not long after dinner was brought in and served, Nancy got right to the point. "So, did you want to get together to chat about the idea of being a mannequin, or what?"
"I always thought you were interested in more than talk," said Ellen.
"I am," replied Nancy. "But I'm a realist. I know turning myself into a living hunk of plastic is impossible."
Nancy laid her fork down. "Don't bullshit me, okay? It's not possible."
Ellen stared unflinchingly across the table. "It might be."
"Next best thing." Ellen wiped her mouth. "Alchemy."
"Yes. I know a little about the subject."
Nancy sat back, crossing her legs and arms, assuming the position of someone interviewing a prospective client. "I suppose you're going to tell me you know more than just a little on the subject?"
"Yes," replied Ellen, nodding. "I'm an alchemist."
"Like in the Sorcerer's Stone and all that?"
"Actually it's Philosopher's Stone." Ellen gave a slight, coy smile. "You shouldn't rely on Americanized versions of Harry Potter for your information on the subject."
Nancy glared hard for about ten seconds. She wasn't used to being corrected on anything, and having this little blond girl do so didn't set her mind right. "Very well then," she finally grunted out. "I guess the next question would be can you actually change someone?"
"Alchemy is all about transmutation," said Ellen. "One substance to another. So, in theory, it's possible to change a human into living plastic." She took a sip from her water glass. "In theory."
"So you're saying you could change a person into a mannequin," said Nancy. "For real."
"Well, I'd have to make a potion, but with the right ingredients . . ." Ellen gave Nancy a cold, steely look. "Yes, it could be done."
A smug grin crossed Nancy's face. "Then on to the next question: why haven't you done this yet?"
"Because the ingredients I'd need for the potion aren't cheep," said Ellen. "I don't have the money."
"Why not just turn lead into gold?" Nancy chuckled. "Isn't that what alchemists do?"
"Some do. I haven't gotten that far in my training."
"But you can turn women into plastic?"
Ellen leaned forward, her arms on the table. "Believe it or not, it's actually a very simple transmutation-- from an alchemy point of view, that is."
Nancy thought about what Ellen was saying. Nearly a minute passed before Nancy said, "Why do you need me?"
"Because you can get the item I need," Ellen told her. "You can pay for them."
"And you can then make the potion once you have them."
"And how do I know you're not bullshitting me?"
"You don't," said Ellen. She opened her purse and pulled out a list, which she slid across the table to Nancy. "That's everything I'll need to make this work. You can make inquiries as to their availability, and their cost. My guess is getting everything together is going to run you about twelve grand, if not a little more.
"If you want, you can buy all that, contact me, bring me out to where you live, and I'll start mixing everything up." It was now Ellen's turn to sit back and look as if she were the one conducting the meeting. "Making the potion will take some time. But in the end I'll have created a mixture that will allow a person to change into a mannequin for a period of time based upon how much of the mixture they consume--"
"So if I wanted to be a mannequin for a month?"
"You drink so much and you'll stay a mannequin for a month," said Ellen, shrugging.
Nancy nodded. "What's in it for you?"
"Well, I'll make enough of the potion so that both of us will be able to live out our fantasies for the rest of our lives--"
"You want to do this as well?"
Ellen grinned. "Of course I do. Maybe I could even be placed in a window next to you when you're changed."
Nancy snorted. "Okay. So--?"
"I'll take half the potion once it's completed, and . . . a million dollars."
"Not asking for much, are you?"
"Not for the fantasy I'm giving you," replied Ellen. "With as much potion as I'd be leaving you, you'd be able to stay a mannequin for a thousand years if you so desired." She lifted her wine glass to her lips. "Now . . . do you think that's worth a million and a few weeks of your time?"
Nearly a month had passed before Ellen was ready to put the finishing touches on the potion. Gathering the ingredients --as Ellen had mentioned-- had not been difficult, but some were rather expensive, and her initial estimate of $12,000 for everything hadn't been too far off the mark.
Nancy didn't mind the cost. What she did mind was all the time Ellen had spent putting the potion together. When Ellen finally mentioned it would take three months to prepare the potion, Nancy nearly hit the roof. "You didn't say anything about that the first time!" she'd screamed.
"Because if I had you would have blown me off," was Ellen's reply. Which Nancy knew to be true, but it didn't make her any happier to know a quarter of a year would pass before she could try the potion.
Then late one afternoon on a Friday Ellen greeted Nancy as she came home. "It's done," she simply said.
Nancy put down her briefcase. "The potion?"
"Yes. It's finished." Ellen's grin as from ear to ear. "It's ready to be used."
Nancy came over and gave Ellen a hug. "Let's have dinner, and then--"
Ellen finished her thought. "And then we can live out our fantasy."
Dinner came and went quickly. Afterwards both women retired to the second floor room where Ellen as she up her lab. On one of the tables sat a two-liter glass container with a spigot. The container was filled with a smoky jade-green liquid that seemed to shimmer in the light. "That's it?" asked Nancy as they entered the room.
"Yes, it is," said Ellen proudly. "A liter for you and a liter for me."
"And how long will that last?"
Ellen picked up a large glass. About three quarters of an inch from the bottom it was encircled with a red line. "Drinking only this much will keep you 'in plastic' for a month."
Nancy grinned. "What if I want to stay that way longer?"
"Just drink more." Ellen handed the glass to Nancy. "Although the progression isn't linear, meaning if you drink three times as much you'll stay a mannequin for three months."
"No. The formula uses something of a divergent series to determine the strength, so three times as much would keep you solid for . . . oh, about six months."
Nancy nodded. "And how long would one stay a mannequin if they drank this entire glass?"
"Well, considering there's 16 segments to that glass--"
"A long time."
"Almost twenty-one trillion months . . . long enough that it might as well be forever."
Nancy filled the glass partway with the potion. "How much would this be?"
Ellen shrugged. "I'd have to do some measuring, but off hand I'd say . . . 'bout a hundred years."
"Why don't you drink it, then?" asked Nancy.
"I'm not interested in being a mannequin for a hundred years," said Ellen, laughing.
Nancy set the glass on the table. "I am." There was a sudden hard edge in her voice. "Drink it."
"Drink it." She pulled a small pistol from a jacket pocket. "I mean it."
For the next twenty seconds the two women exchanged glances. Finally Ellen said, "You mean it, don't you?"
"Of course I do."
"You never intended to pay me, did you?"
Nancy giggled. "Hell, no. One thing I never told you: I'm a lot more powerful --and richer-- than I ever let on. You don't get that way by caving for every bimbo that comes along."
"Oh, now I'm a bimbo?"
"You'll look like one once I get you all dressed up and in the window." Nancy motioned with the pistol. "Drink, bitch."
"And if I don't?"
Nancy sighed. "Then I'm gonna put four or five rounds in your belly." She held up the pistol. "Some might consider this a 'ladies gun', but believe me, if I shoot you five times, you'll probably die."
"And you can cover up a murder?"
"And be home in time for corn flakes in the morning," said Nancy, smiling. "Now, drink. I wanna see if my money bought anything." She flashed the pistol. "For your sake, you better hope it works."
Ellen said nothing. Nancy could see her weighing the matter in her head. Mannequin, death? Mannequin, death? Such a hard choice. Then Ellen made up her mind. She reached over, picked up the glass, and downed the contents without hesitation.
She put the glass down and licked her lips. "Okay?"
"I don't see anything happening," said Nancy, trying to observe any effects.
"It takes about two minutes for the change to take place." Ellen grunted. "After all, you want to get into a pose, don't you?"
"Of course, my dear." Nancy waved at Ellen with the pistol. "How's about something sexy for me."
Ellen grins wryly, then positioned her legs one in front of the other and put her hands on her hips. "How's this?"
"Classy," said Nancy. "And give me a big smile, hum?" She grinned. "You want people to like you, don't you?"
Ellen's face broke into a big smile. "This good enough?"
"Perfect." Suddenly Nancy noticed that Ellen's skin seemed to almost be-- shining. "Something's happening."
"Yeah," said Ellen, her smiled not breaking. "I'm changing."
As Nancy watched Ellen's skin began to not only take on a flat sheen, but actually seemed to be . . . Nancy reached out and touched Ellen's arm. "You're turning to plastic!"
"Uh . . . huh," was all Ellen could ilk out. Her face was now frozen in place. Nancy watched in fascination as her eyes went dull, her skin grew hard, and her body became completely rigid. Seconds after that, color appeared in Ellen's eyes, on her lips. Seams appeared on her body so that she could be taking apart, just like any other mannequin could.
The change was complete after only 20 or 30 seconds.
Ellen was now a mannequin.
Nancy put the gun away. She ran both hands over Ellen's now hard, plastic body. "You did it," she whispered. She smiled and leaned in towards Ellen's right ear. "I'm betting you can hear me . . . don't worry, Ellen. I'll take good care of you." Nancy pulled away, then turned and filled up the measuring glass with an amount that would make her a mannequin for a month. "At least until I sell you off to a recycler who'll break you up and melt you down." She turned back to Ellen. "Betcha didn't see that one coming." She hosted the glass with the potion. "Cheers, you stupid bitch."
Nancy left the room and headed for her bedroom. She only had a few things to do, as most of what she'd had planned for this moment had already been written out. First, get changed. Then, make a call to her assistant. Tell her about the written instructions she was going to leave behind in the foyer. Then back to the bedroom, down with the potion . . . and Nancy would spend the next month in the window of her boutique in Beverly Hills wearing her favorite Vera Wang.
And what of Ellen? Why, that little tramp was going to end up as a display model in one of the stores she owned that catered to a more. . . adult crowd. Then after a few years of modeling latex dressed and leather corsets, she'd be sold, broken up, melted down . . . Nancy wondered if Ellen would still be alive after all that.
Who gives a fuck? Nancy thought. Enough of that cunt.Now dressed, the instructions in place, the call made, Nancy brought the potion to her lips and drank. She was surprised; she'd though this stuff would taste like shit, but it was actually pleasant. And nice warmth spread through her body as she put the glass away where it wouldn't be noticed. As she walked back towards the center of her bedroom she felt a slight stiffness hit her joints. Damn, it's only been about thirty seconds, she thought. Ellen had said it would take about a minute.
Well, no point in thinking about the time. Nancy struck the pose she wanted to hold for the next month while she'd be on display. She felt rather and saw her skin turning to plastic and her body becoming completely immobile. She also felt something else: it was as if someone was arousing her sexually. At first the sensation arose from her groin, but it quickly spread throughout her body along with the feeling of immobility. Nancy wanted to pant, but couldn't. Good think I can't move, she thought, or I'd probably have trouble standing. The feeling grew stronger and stronger, and just when Nancy thought she would have the most incredible orgasm--
The feeling just stayed.
Fuck! she thought. The potion has brought her just to the edge of orgasm, and now . . . now she was stuck wanting to feel it, to cum, to relive herself. Shit, I'm going to be like this for a month? I'm gonna be one horny girl when this is over.
Nancy was still thinking this when suddenly 'she' walked into her bedroom.What the fuck is this? The woman looked just like Nancy. Except . . . That's the outfit Ellen was wearing!
The Nancy doppelganger walked over and chuckled. "Oh, hey, Nancy, how you doing?" said her double. "Probably feel like you wanna cum right about now, huh?" Nancy would have nodded her head if it were possible-- among other things.
"You know, I can't believe you were so stupid," said Ellen-in-Nancy's-body. "Here I was, holding your life in my hands, and you still decide to try and fuck me." She shook her head. "Honey, you had to of known I knew you were going to do this. I knew you'd never pay off, and I knew you'd try something like you did earlier." She waved her hands over her body. "Ergo . . . the new me. Like it?"
"You know," said Ellen as she began pacing the room, "I did know a lot more about you than you let on. It's amazing what one can find on the Internet about people if they know where to look. So I know about your businesses, your stops, your investments . . . and the string of adult shops where, I'm guess, you were going to dump me." She turned and grinned. "Not that I would have minded-- I think I would have looked completely hot in a leather mini dress.
"I'm also a good reader of people, and I knew you'd never part with a million just so you could be turned to plastic. You'd have me killed first . . . or something worse." Ellen looked at herself in the vanity mirror. "Like what you planned. Bad girl, you are.
"So, I modified the potion just a little. Like . . . well, as you can see, it doesn't work on me the way I explained. Oh, I did turn into a mannequin, but only for a couple of hours." Ellen laughed, and Nancy found it very unnerving to hear herself laughing like that. "Hell, honey, I could drink the whole damn potion and that's all that would happen to me. My only worry was that you wouldn't drink it right away and change, but, again . . . good reader of people.
"But, as for you . . . well, the potion does work-- and a hell of a lot better than you can imagine. What you drank wasn't so much a thirty-day quantity as it was a thirty . . . year one. Oh, my bad, as they say. I guess I should have told you. Well, anyway, at least you'll have that feeling of extreme sexual excitement to keep you occupied for the next thirty years." Ellen sat and crossed her legs seductively. "And when you turn back to human in thirty years, you are in store for the biggest, best fucking orgasm in the world!
"Of course, being in that state for thirty years it bound to have an effect on your psyche. If you somehow manage to survive the orgasm, you'll discover that wanting to-- I mean, needing to get laid is going to be an overwhelming compulsion. I dare say at that point the only business you'll be interested in will be getting someone to make you cum."
Nancy couldn't believe what she was being told. Thirty years! Coming out of this a complete slut! No, no, NO! She wanted to beg Ellen to release her from her plastic prison, but it was impossible. A mannequin she had become-- and a mannequin she'd remain for thirty years.
Ellen rose and started heading for the door. Half way there she stopped, turned and said, "Oh, and one last thing before I have this slight accident when I fall and develop amnesia and have to relearn everything about my life . . . there's one other thing the potion did to you . . ..
Melanie didn't expect Ms. DeVille to answer the door. Hell, she was surprised enough to have her call her up and ask her to come over on her day off, but to have her come to her own door wearing . . . well, the outfit she had on? It was almost more than Melanie could take.
"Morning, Ms. DeVille," she said, stuttering slightly.
"Good morning, Melanie." Nancy held the door open. "Please come in."
Melanie entered and instantly began feeling out of place. Maybe it was how nice the house was. Maybe it was the tank top, mini and boots outfit that she was wearing. Either way, she felt uncomfortable. "Ms. DeVille--"
"Nancy, please." She lightly touched Melanie's shoulder. "Call me Nancy if you would."
"Certainly . . . Nancy." Now Melanie was wondering just what the hell was going on. Last year at this time, if she'd called Ms. DeVille "Nancy", she'd have been fired on the spot.
"Good. Would you come with me." Nancy began heading upstairs. "I hope you don't mind if we converse in my sitting room--"
"Sure," said Melanie. "Anything you want-- Nancy."
"Anything?" She looked over her shoulder and smiled. "Well, if you say so."
"May I say something . . . Nancy?"
Nancy stopped half way up the stairs. "By all means."
Melanie worked up her courage. "Don't take this too personally, but you're a lot nicer that before--"
"Before the . . . you know?"
Nancy nodded. "Accident, you mean?" She patted Melanie's shoulder. "You're right. I most certainly am. I mean, falling down the stairs, cracking open my head, damn near dying-- and then, on top of all that, getting amnesia and having to relearn everything again!" She started up the stairs, slowly, her arm locked inside Melanie's. "The last eight months have been hell, my dear, and to be honest I've learned that I don't have to be Queen Super Bitch all the time." She stopped when they reached to top. "It wasn't getting me anywhere."
"I'm sure it wasn't," said Melanie, nodding. She was starting to like Ms. De-- Nancy a whole lot more this way that before.
Nancy began walking slowly down the hall. "Anyway, what I wanted to talk with you about . . . you've been with me for four year. Correct?"
"I want you to manage all my adult holdings," she said quickly and suddenly.
Melanie stopped dead in her tracks. "You want me--"
"To manage my adult holdings." She grinned. "Well, not all of them right away, but I was thinking . . . how about putting you in charge of all the stories in Los Angeles?"
Melanie didn't attempt to hide her astonishment. "You want me to manage all your LA stores?"
"Yes." Nancy cocked her head to one side and smiled. "I won't accept no for an answer."
"Then I'm not going to give you one," said Melanie. "Fuck, yeah . . . I mean . . .."
Nancy laughed loudly. "That's okay. I'll take 'Fuck, yeah' to mean 'Yes'." Putting her hand against Melanie's back, she started leading her towards the sitting room. "I think you'll do well. And I'll be more than happy to help you out the first year or so-- if you need it."
"Thanks, Nancy." Melanie couldn't believe what was happening. "If you don't mind my saying so, this is almost too good to be true."
"I imagine it looks that way," said Nancy. "Lets just say I've seen your potential, and figure it's time to test it out."
"That's great, Nancy. I won't let you down, I . . ." Just then they walked past the open door to Nancy's bedroom. Something caught Melanie's eyes. "Damn, what's that?"
"Oh, that?" Nancy led Melanie into her bedroom. "That's my newest acquisition."
Standing in the middle of the bedroom was the best looking mannequin Melanie had ever seen. The model was blonde and dressed so that the corset and platforms made her look extremely "bimboish". But the detail on the model was so great . . . Melanie got as close as possible, letting her fingers find their way over the mannequin's body. "This is incredible," she said softly. "This thing must have cost a fortune to make."
"Not as much as you might think," said Nancy matter-of-factly.
"It looks almost human."
Nancy moved next to Melanie. "She does, doesn't she?"
"Yeah." If it wasn't for the fact the mannequin was room temperature cold to the touch, Melanie would have swore this was one of those "freeze models" with a stand shoved up her ass. "It's really sort of . . . sexy. You know?" She then giggled.
"What's so funny?" asked Nancy.
"Just somethin' dumb--"
"Tell me." Nancy lowered her like they were sharing a secret. "If I can't trust you to tell me something, how can I make you a manager?"
Melanie blushed. "Well, okay, but you're gonna think this is fucked up--"
Turning back to the mannequin, Melanie said, "You ever wonder what it would be like to actually be a mannequin?"
Nancy straightened slightly, a sly smile flashing across her face for a moment before vanishing. "Melanie." She took the girl by the arm and led her towards the door. "Why don't we talk about this in the sitting room, my dear? You might find it's not such a fucked up idea after all . . .."
Then the room was once again empty. Empty except for the mannequin standing there. The mannequin who hated being mostly alone for the last eight months. The mannequin who was screaming inside her head, No, no, don't leave with her! It's not me! Melanie, you fucking bitch! Help me! God, this pole in my ass, I love . . . NO! I hate it. I need being filled! I don't want to have something in my ass that feels so good. I want to cum! Now! Please! I need to be fucked! I can't wait thirty years! SOMEONE HELP ME--!