All Good Things Come to an End

Produced By Magnus
Story by Heather St. Claire

                The land of sunshine and dreams had turned into a nightmare for two young women with ambitions of a modeling career.
                In the first part of this story, “Good Things Come to Those Who?,” we met Jane Chamber and her best friend Sarah Peters. Both young, beautiful, full of life and grand dreams. Both also unlucky enough to fall into the orbit of Dura Sheer Hosiery, a company founded on an evil vision of women....a vision of women as objects and playthings.

                Sarah had been unlucky enough to get a modeling assignment that required her to put on a pair of Dura Sheer’s latest. Jane had come along to watch, and been invited to participate in the photo shoot. The hose had a strange effect on both women, first turning them into insatiable sex fiends, then permanently transforming them into amazingly lifelike plastic and silicone sex dolls.

                The girls ended up being offered for sale over an Internet site, and in one of fate’s crueler tricks, Jane ended up being purchased by her 15-year-old brother Adam.

                Adam had thought it a little strange that the sex doll looked so much like his sister. But he shrugged it off when he placed his order. Jane had disappeared just a few weeks before; if there was any connection between the doll and his sister, Adam figured she must have served as an artist’s model. Little did he know that when the parcel service delivered the crate to his family home in Evanston, Ill., it was actually Jane’s homecoming.

                Only Adam and his father Niles were left in the rambling brick mansion now, with Jane’s disappearance. Niles’ wife, the children’s mother, had died of cancer a few years before. Niles was crazed with grief over his daughter’s disappearance, coming so soon after his wife’s death, and was thinking about little else....including, sadly, the only other living member of his family left.

                But Adam was not feeling the pain of his father’s neglect. Anyone who’s ever been a 15 year old boy knows that one thing rules your life, and one thing only: hormones! So from the time when the parcel service guy delivered the crate containing his very new, and very expensive toy, Adam was lost in a world of his own.

                When he took the doll out of its packing material, he couldn’t help but feel aroused by her round breasts, which, thanks to a silicone gel filling, had just the right amount of give. He quickly pulled off the skimpy top the doll was wearing and began to knead and suck on the boobs.

                As Adam felt his manhood begin to stiffen, he pulled down his jeans. He gazed into the eyes of his new toy. Yes, it looked a lot like his big sister, but there was something in her face, and especially in her eyes, that conveyed a pure, animal lust he’d never seen on the “real” Julie Chamber.

                He began to kiss the open, wanting mouth of the doll that had in fact been Julie Chamber. They were big, sloppy, wet kisses, the kind that you get from most horny, inexperienced 15 year olds.

                His erection free, he positioned himself over the doll, and as he began his first thrusts, he thought he felt the doll shudder.....”ah, must be my imagination,” he told himself. “Even I’m not good enough to bring a doll to life.....YET.”

                While Adam was banging away, his father was downstairs, still in his study, still on the phone, still downing shot after shot of scotch. Just a few weeks ago, he had been on of Chicago’s most powerful financiers; people knew if they wanted to get a new business off the ground, or make any kind of deal, and money was a problem they just had to go to Niles.

                But now, no one could go to Niles, because he had cut himself off from the outside world, except when it came to tracking down his daughter.

                Niles hadn’t eaten, showered or slept in days. Well, he had tossed and turned on the big leather couch in his study, but as for sleep? Not really.

                Part of what was so painful about it was that he seemed to be close, so damn close. After a lot of false starts, his detectives had finally traced Jane to Los Angeles. She had done a lot to cover her tracks on the way, trading off her car, changing her looks, never using her credit cards, but all trails seemed to lead to the apartment of her best college friend, Sarah Peters.

                From there....nothing! From notes and other evidence found in the apartment, it was clear that they had vanished shortly after going to the photo shoot for Dura Sheer at the studios of a top freelance photographer in Los Angeles, Elwin Cox.

                The detectives hired by Chamber questioned Cox and his receptionist, and while they remembered the girls and the two photo sessions, they said nothing unusual had happened, and no, of course they hadn’t seen or heard from them since.

                As a half-sober, half-conscious Niles Chamber read the report detailing this information, His phone rang. The sharp electronic sound was like a series of nails being pounded into his head. It was Richard Gail,  his lead detective on the other end of the line.

               “Mr. Chamber? Sorry to disturb you. I just had a piece of news I thought you’d want to know.”

                “A-About Jane?” he asked with a mixture of fear and hope.

                “Not directly, no, I’m sorry,” Gail said, swallowing hard.  “It’s about that photographer. The day after my contact in LA visited his place, it was firebombed. Both the photographer and his receptionist burned to death.”

                “My God,” Chamber muttered.

                “Mr. Chamber, it’s clear we’re dealing with people way out of my league. My advice, if you value your safety, is to get your nose the hell out of this. But I know you won’t want to.”

                Chamber pictured the rumpled little man in his cluttered little office. “You know me well enough to know that I’d never give up this easily, Gail!  Do you have someone else in mind?”

                “Yes, a woman named Lara Graves. She’s a world player in this business. She’s going to charge you as much a day as I’ve charged you in a month..”

                Chamber snarled, “God damn it, don’t you know that cost is no object where my daughter is concerned?”

                “I’ll get in touch with her for you right away, sir.”

                Upstairs at that moment, Adam Chamber had just come for the fourth time in his new doll’s pussy. The sensation had been absolutely incredible; it left ordinary masturbation in the dust. Adam was seized with a sudden impulse, tossed the sheet off his bed, and sat down in front of his computer naked. He was soon logged onto the Internet, and had found the website for Living Dolls.

                As wonderful as this doll was, he thought it would be great to have two, for variety. Maybe to share with a pal. That other new one offered at the same time he had ordered this one, the redhead, just had to still be  available..... hot damn! She was! She was! He quickly tapped in his credit card information, assuring that a second doll would be delivered to his home....and that Jane and Sarah would enjoy one more reunion.

                Adam Chamber went back to making love to the doll that had once been his sister, while his father finally dragged himself to his bed, for the first time in days. He felt a strange mixture of hope and fear. It seemed like he was closer to finding Jane than ever; but he knew the longer it was taking, the more likely it was that she wouldn’t be found alive.

                Even though one part of him didn’t want to admit the possibility that his cherished daughter was dead, another, more rational, part of him was forced to realize the truth of it. Well, he told himself, if his Jane was indeed dead, than he would make whoever was responsible pay, and pay dearly.

                The next day, Chamber was up, showed, saved, and generally had done his best to make himself presentable. Lara Graves was coming to see him. He wanted to persuade her of both the depth of his determination and the depth of his pocketbook.

                Chamber was sitting behind his big oak desk, trying to seem as collected as possible, when his maid brought him news that Lara Graves had arrived. “Show her in,” he said, alarmed to hear his usually commanding baritone voice crack.

                Chamber stood up, ready to greet his visitor. He found he had to steady himself by leaning into the big desk. Too much alcohol, too much stress and too little rest had all taken their toll over these past few weeks.

                The tall brunette wore an expensive-looking silk suit and blouse, and silver jewelry. “Mr. Chamber?” she said crisply. “I’m Lara Graves. Please sit down; I’m sure you’ve been through a lot these last few weeks.”

                The wreckage of the once-powerful financier collapsed backward into the big leather chair. “What have you got for me?” he said with an air of hopelessness.

                “Well,” she said, spreading out a folder full of documents and photographs in front of him. “It seems like they’ve got quite a strange operation going on at the main headquarters of Dura Sheer Hosiery. Their main manufacturing and research center is in Oakland. If we’re ever going to find some answers about what happened to your daughter, we have to start there.”

                “The way you talk, it sounds like you think my daughter is dead.”

                “I’m sorry to be blunt sir, but frankly, it would be a miracle if she isn’t.”

                “What...what would have happened to her?”

                “I can’t tell your for certain, but I have some general ideas. First, you have to understand that we are dealing with some extremely dangerous and perverted people here who have great scientific skills, and place no value on human life. Right now, we don’t have any hard evidence, but based on what we’ve been able to learn about this place, she’s probably been transformed into a mannequin, or possibly a panty hose form, or a pair of panty hose?”

                It seemed that all of Chamber’s anger had been spent. He just started blankly for a moment, blinked, and said quietly. “My God...why would anyone do that?”

                Lara Graves shook her head sadly. “Because they can Mr. Chamber. Because they can.”

                It looked to her as if Chamber wanted to cry. But nothing came. Finally, he asked her, “What should I do now?”

                “That’s up to you, Mr. Chamber. There’s always the remote chance your daughter is still alive. But given the most likely circumstances, you can either walk away...or we can launch an intelligence-gathering operation there that might let us get the evidence to put them out of business....and make sure no other poor young women fall victim to their mad ideas.”

                That triggered the smoldering flame in Chamber’s soul. “Do it, then. I don’t care what it costs, or how long it takes, just do it.”

                Graves closed her portfolio, stood up, and shook Chamber’s hand. She noticed how weak and sweaty his grip was. She thought sadly how just a few weeks earlier, this must have been a strong, confident hand that sealed multi-million dollar deals with absolute confidence. “I’ll be in touch, Mr. Chamber. I won’t let you down.”

                Chamber looked out the window until he saw Graves’ black Jaguar speeding away. Then he turned and opened his liquor cabinet. Hmm, it was looking like he would need to order more scotch.

                Graves worked independently, but commanded respect within the private intelligence community that she was able to draw together a project team on just a couple of day’s notice. O’Hare Airport became the hub for the gathering of eight of the world’s top operatives.

                Within 72 hours, Graves had gathered all of them in an abandoned warehouse on Chicago’s south side. She looked at the six women and two men she had asked to join her. “Ladies, gentlemen, you know our business; you know the risks. I want to remind you as a group, what I told you individually. I fear that this case poses some unusually great risks. Not only are we facing an absolutely ruthless group, we’re dealing with a level of science that’s unknown to the rest of the world.”

                Susan Mathers and Kyle Knox, the security experts on the team, presented their findings first. The Dura Sheer headquarters was a rather plain looking set of buildings in an industrial area of Oakland. Surprisingly, Susan spoke first. She was a somewhat buxom brunette, who struggled with her weight, but even at her heaviest, her beauty was apparent. she told the group that there seemed to be no level of truly sophisticated security surrounding either the complex, or its individual buildings. “It’s almost like they’re sitting there, asking for it,” she said.

                Lara raised an eyebrow. She had asked Knox to survey the situation independently, in case Susan had missed anything. “Kyle?” she asked, the tone of her voice revealing her skepticism.

                Knox had a large sheaf of papers and photos in front of him. He shrugged. “As far as I can tell, she’s absolutely right. An electric fence, a few security guards, a couple of’s all kid stuff.” Knox had a square jaw, a solid build, and ruggedly handsome good looks. If not for his shoulder-length hair, he might have been taken for a Marine drill instructor. He winked at Graves, a gesture she choose to ignore.

                She outlined the plan she had developed to the rest of the group. They would converge on the plant at 2:30 the following Sunday morning. The objectives were simple: to get in, to gather as much evidence of Dura Sheer’s activities as they could, and then get out as quickly as possible.

                Graves had divided the squad into four teams. It was a cloudy, mild early fall night, just perfect for this kind of operation. Four rented sedans approached the property from four different directions; the teams met up in groups of five and four to make entry, quickly deactivating and scaling the electric fences.

                The complex seemed more suited to its outer world role of hosiery manufacturing than its hidden mission of discovering ways to transform flesh-and-blood women into inanimate objects. Team one, consisted of Laurel Manning, a slim, blonde, martial arts expert; and Keiko Enatsu, a tall, gorgeous oriental with a knack for hacking computers.

                They were assigned to the main manufacturing area, which they knew would be quiet at this time. Both women moved with speed and a catlike grace. Laurel looked around the cavernous room filled with industrial sewing machines, assembly lines, and huge stacks of Dura Sheer packaging.

                Laurel and Keiko were quickly able to determine which lines were set up to produce which Dura Sheer brands. They began snapping pictures with the micro-cameras they carried. They exchanged very few words, until Laurel called out, “Keiko! Over here! Here’s the line for Conturas!” The Oriental woman quickly joined her. Both of them had been curious about the reports about Dura Sheer’s Contura brand.

                Of all the sketchy reports about Dura Sheer hose turning women into mannequins, most seemed to be linked to the Contura line. The tall Oriental woman picked up a pair and gently felt their texture; then she rubbed them against her cheek. “Mmmmm....these feel soooo-o-o-o good! Wanna try ‘em on?”

                Laurel gently fingered a pile of the ultra-silky hose. “I don’t want to end up a mannequin!”

                “Oh, come on! Even if this is true somehow, you don’t think they come off the line this way, do you?”


                “Come on, girl!” Soon, Keiko was stripping off the black stirrup pants that she had worn into the plant, and was rolling a sheer black pair of Conturas onto her legs. Laurel found a suntan shade that she liked, and was soon following suit.

                “These feel fantastic!” Keiko said, rubbing her legs together.

                “Agreed,” Laurel said. “Silkier than any hose I’ve ever worn in my life. Isn’t almost as if they’re alive, and caressing your legs?” Keiko nodded with delight. As if acting with one mind, they threw their arms around each other and began rubbing their legs together. They were laughing with delight, when Keiko suddenly exclaimed, “What the hell?”

                There was real fright in Laurel’s voice as she asked, “Keiko? What’s going on?”

                It was as if the pantyhose had come to life! Both women struggled to try to remove the garments, but they wouldn’t give--it was as if they were becoming fused to their skin, which was exactly what was happening. Not only was the hosiery bonding to them, it was also thickening to the point where they were soon completely immobilized from the waist down. When they had stripped off their leggings, the women had set aside their waist packs, which included their walkie-talkies. They found themselves frozen in place with no way to call for help.

                They thought about yelling, but knew their chances of being heard by anyone on the other teams would be remote; it was more likely they might catch the attention of a stray security guard wandering about. Keiko was stoic, but Laurel began to cry as she wondered if the others were meeting similarly bleak fates.

                Before too long, though, the pantyhose had started working the next phase of their magic, and both women were lost in a series of ever-intensifying orgasms.

                Things had gone smoothly enough in the beginning for the team of Courtland Jeffries and Susan DiTomaso. They had quickly gained access to the main file room in the central office area. Courtland was a sleek, well built black man who had come to America from South Africa. Susan was a fiery, big-breasted Italian brunette who still made Europe her primary base of operations, but had been lured across the Atlantic to be part of this super-team. They seemed an odd pairing, given their differing personalities, but Lara had been convinced they would make a smoothly functioning unit; and she was right.

                Within 20 minutes, they had photographed thousands of incriminating documents with their micro cameras; they found receipts for purchases of all sorts of chemicals in huge volumes, as well as micro-circuitry; as Courtland put it, “All the tools of their wicked trade.”

                “Yeah!” Susan agreed. “But what about the formulas, the plans for how they make this stuff actually work?”

                “It might not even be in here.”

                “Yeah, but it’s worth a look,” Susan insisted. A couple of minutes later, she removed a framed painting from the wall, revealing a hidden wall safe. “I don’t like this,” Courtland said. “Too easy....”

                “Oh, how do you say it over here, ‘Chill out, dude?’” Susan said with a laugh as she began to spin the wheel of the combination lock. Suddenly, a strange pink gas began pouring out of hidden jets in the ceiling.

                Before Courtland could say much more than, “I told...” both of them were frozen in mid-stride by the paralyzing gas.

                The pairing of Kyle Knox and Lawanda Page had been sent to the distribution area and its adjoining gallery. In the gallery, they came face to face with the works of Dura Sheer’s evil genius, Marc Dixon. Here were dozens of mannequins and panty hose forms displaying Dura Sheer products. “Damn, these look too realistic!” Knox exclaimed as he closely examined a mannequin of a tall, slim black woman. “Lawanda, this one could be your sister!”

                “Oh, sure--” she started to say, but stopped short when she got a closer look at the mannequin. There was something about its ebony plastic skin that did seem strangely life-like. That, along with the look on the plastic statue’s face, told them there was something more to these mannequins than just an artist’s talents. Lawanda took a couple of steps backward to size up the black mannequin from another perspective.

                That was her mistake. In stepping back, Lawanda knocked over one of the pantyhose forms. As she set it back up, the pantyhose seemed to leap off the form and encircle her; Kyle tried to go to her rescue, but soon found the sheer hose were trapping him too. As they struggled to free themselves, they realized that only increased the pressure on them. Soon, both lost consciousness.

                Lara led the assault on Marc Dixon’s office; she was assisted by two other members of the team who also were close friends of hers, Annie O’Ryan and Monica McKenzie. The tall blonde, redhead and brunette looked like they were auditioning for another “Charlie’s Angel’s” sequel; but this wasn’t play-acting. It was, as they would soon learn, quite literally a matter of life and death.

                The size and luxury of Dixon’s office was in sharp contrast to the mostly run-down state of the rest of the Dura Sheer complex. From the thick, plush carpeting, to the carefully-polished mahogany paneling, and the well-oiled leather furniture, everything about the room bespoke wealth to the highest degree. Three of the long walls of the office were lined with mannequins on pedestals, all wearing Dura Sheer products.

                Dixon’s huge desk turned out to be unlocked; so were the bank of filing cabinets against the fourth wall. It was puzzling that all of this information could be so easily accessed, but the trio didn’t let that distract them from their work.

                They were about halfway through their search when they realized that the elevator was moving, and about to deliver someone to their floor. There seemed to be no closets or other hiding places in the room; and the elevator opened into the reception area which led directly into the office. All three women seemed to get the same idea at once. They each removed a mannequin from a pedestal, tossed it under Dixon’s desk, and took over the empty platform spots.

                Lara offered a silent prayer that it would be just a guard, or maybe a cleaning service, someone who wouldn’t pose any serious trouble. Then, she and the others could hear the elevator doors slide open and the soft sound of foot falls on the thick carpet.

                The office doors opened, and the lights were flung on. “Well, well,” said Marc Dixon, a twisted smile on his face. The expensive Italian suit he wore was slightly rumpled, and had alcohol on his breath, as if he was heading home from a late night party -- which he was, when one of his hidden devices told him the security of the Dura Sheer plant had been breached.

                He walked over to his desk casually, picked up a pile of mail and phone messages, and started looking through them. Lara wondered if he was really too drunk, or too wrapped up in his own world no notice them....

                ...Then it happened. He looked straight at her, smiled, and said, “Welcome ladies!” Before any of them could move or react, Dixon pushed a button on the underside of the desk. Instantly, the three women were frozen in place on their pedestals. They struggled to break free, but quickly realized it was hopeless. “Yes, you’re very welcome here, even though you weren’t invited! But I’m sure I’ve got just the thing to make you feel right at home here!”  When Dixon had frozen them, each of the women felt a sudden rush of orgasm, far more intense than they had ever known before. Now, with his laughter echoing in their ears, each of the women blacked out.

                When Lara came to, she realized she was in a brightly-lit laboratory, surrounded by her eight associates, and, of course, Marc Dixon and a woman she learned was Helga, his top scientific associate. Lara, Annie and  Monica could all move, but they were trapped in clear tubes that completely encircled them. As they regained awareness, each began to shout and try to punch and kick their way out; but the futility of this effort soon became clear.

                Lara realized that Dixon face was leering at her through her Plexiglas prison. “Miss Graves, you and your friends are wasting your time,” he told her. “It would make things go much more quickly for everyone if you would all cease your pointless struggling, and pay attention to what’s going on here.” Lara’s shoulders slumped in momentary defeat, but Annie kept pounding away.

                Monica, in the meantime, had realized that like the others, she had a large dildo wedged into her pussy. Although it seemed to be providing her with a pleasantly “full” sensation, it was also starting to become uncomfortable; she lifted her skirt and began trying to remove it. To her alarm, it seemed to be stuck.

                Lara was staring straight ahead at the man who had brought her to the brink of defeat. After all the dangerous situations she had overcome in her life, she found it hard to accept that a....pantyhose maker....would be the man who brought her down.

                The other members of her team were immobilized on platforms similar to those they had encountered in Dixon’s office.  Lara could only watch in horror as Helga handed Dixon an instrument that looked strangely like a chrome-plated dildo.

                Dixon looked at his nine captives, then focused his gaze on Lara. He launched into what seemed to be a prepared speech.  “Miss Graves, friends, welcome! I’m so sorry that this will be the last mission for each of you in your present lives. But please, don’t blame Miss Graves.” He was pacing back and forth; now, he stopped and was staring right into Keiko’s unblinking eyes. “If you’re going to blame anyone, blame me, and my strange obsessions.”

                Dixon paused, then continued his pacing. Lara was filled with contempt for this evil man. Despite his expensive suit and careful grooming, his pockmarked face and yellowing teeth branded him as forever ugly. “I guess it all started when I was young, and my Mother died. Life with my father was not pleasant. Then my older sisters married quickly, and left me alone with that despicable man. I started to see a pattern developing....

                ...a pattern which, sadly, continued through high school and college. Every woman I ever loved left me! Every one!” His voice had risen to a shout; he was starting to cry.

                He momentarily placed the object in his hand on a counter, and slammed his palm down. His voice was quiet at first, but then the intensity began to build again. “I had to find a way to stop women from leaving me. I HAD TO!” He took a deep breath, seemed to struggle to control himself again, then continued. “That’s why I’ve devoted myself to developing these processes. And that’s why you’re going to be the latest additions to my collection. You see, I can’t let anyone stop me. I just can’t.”

                After another long pause, he continued. “Some people think of me as a torturer, but I’m not, I’m really not. I know that every one of you, if given the chance to speak, would agree that your method of imprisonment has produced incredible sensations of physical pleasure in you. Well, this is just the start, ladies and gentlemen. I can assure you that the transformation does not kill you; rather, it turns you into an object that experiences endless pleasure.”

                He picked up the device from the counter; Helga wheeled over a device that looked something like a portable vacuum cleaner; he attached the device to the tube extending from the unit, then turned it on. There was a low rumbling sound, and Dixon walked toward the frozen Keiko and inserted it in her pussy. “This is called an infuser,” Dixon said, as if giving an appliance demonstration. “This particular mix of chemicals will transform this lady into a pantyhose form. I think I’ll do the same thing to her partner.” Dixon nodded to his other helper, who brought over a second infuser. Soon both women felt the chemicals surging into them. He had been right; the waves of pleasure were like nothing they had ever

                Within minutes, Dixon watched in delight as both women’s upper bodies seemed to collapse in on themselves. Their heads disappeared into their necks as their arms seemed to be sucked up into their shoulders. Soon, the torsos themselves began to collapse, and within minutes after the infuser had started the chemicals on their destructive path, two plastic pantyhose forms was all that was left of the women.

                The mad genius slowly walked over to where the forms now stood, and began stroking the sexless expanses where the women’s pussies had been. “Ah, perfect,” he said with a delighted smile. “And I’m so glad to know that this is bringing you just as much pleasure as it’s giving me.”

                Now Dixon turned his attention to the team of Courtland and Susan. One of the infusers was removed from the first unit, and attached to a machine loaded with a different mixture of chemicals. He inserted the infuser into Courtland’s anus. The machine had a different, higher pitched sound that the others, and Dixon disconnected it far more quickly.

                “This is something brand new,” Dixon said as he watched Courtland’s body mass begin to shrink rapidly. “And I’m glad to say, it looks like it’s working!” Soon, Courtland had become an infuser, identical to the other instruments. Dixon bent down to pick him up off the platform. “Ah, you, my ebony friend! You shall have a quite pleasant existence from here on out! Let’s get it started right away!”

                Dixon nodded to Helga, who rolled one of the units to where Susan was standing. He removed the infuser that had been attached to it, replacing it with the one that had been Courtland. He then inserted it into Susan’s pussy. With a satisfied grin, Marc Dixon turned to Helga. “I wonder who’s having more fun right now,” he said with a chuckle.

                While Susan’s transformation to pantyhose form continued, Dixon began to study Kyle and Lawanda. He seemed lost in thought for quite a while before he spoke again. “Helga, bring me the number 12,” he said. The assistant started to laugh as she realized what would soon be happening to the ruggedly handsome male detective.

                Once again, a different mix of chemicals was loaded into the machine, and the infuser Dixon had asked for was attached to it. The device was quickly fitted into Kyle’s ass, and as the chemicals and fluids flowed into him, he felt some profound changes beginning. For a moment, breasts seemed to begin to swell outward on his chest; but just as quickly, they collapsed back in on themselves and disappeared with the rest of his torso.

                The head, the entire muscular upper body of Kyle Knox was only a memory; now, what was left of him, the part below the waist, began to reshape itself. His ass took on a teardrop shape as his hips bulged out; his male organs withdrew inside of him, leaving only a plastic bulge. Kyle’s legs soon took on a distinctly feminine form; he would also spent the rest of his days as a pantyhose form.

                “Now, Miss Graves, friends,” Dixon said, turning his attention to the women who were still unchanged. “You’re probably wondering about those tubes surrounding you. I’ll not leave you in suspense any longer. You’re due for a different, more complex process; one that will completely transform you into mannequins. While you were unconscious, we put Contura body melding hose onto you, which is already completing the first step of the process.”

                Lara’s anger was turning to desperation. She couldn’t spend the rest of her life as a mannequin! Her life was all about bold adventure, traveling the globe, high stakes and high pay....not being a motionless piece of plastic on a pedestal! But nothing seemed to hold out any hope of escape. As mightily as she tried, the statis rays held in her place, unable to even twitch even a finger.

                Helga pressed a button, and the tube holding began to fill with a clear blue fluid. “This will remove your body hair and any skin imperfections.” The same process started in Lara’s tube when Helga pushed another button.  But before she could activate the flow of liquid into Annie’s chamber, Dixon exclaimed, “Wait!”

                “What is it, chief?” Helga asked.

                Dixon was still staring at Annie. “She very beautiful, I have to give her that, but there’s just something....not right about her. Let’s go with treatment two, instead.”

                Helga nodded, and punched a new series of instructions into her control panel. Even as the blue fluid began to fill her own tube, Lara watched in fascination and horror as Annie’s chamber filled with an orange liquid. Dixon looked at Lara. She found his voice sounded slightly hollow and distorted through the tube, but she could still hear what he was saying.

                “Just so as not to keep you in suspense, Miss Graves, but I’ve decided your red-haired friend here doesn’t quite make the grade to be a mannequin after all. So she’s going to join the others as a pantyhose form.”

                Annie’s scream seemed to echo inside the tube. “No, please, oh God, no, please! Don’t! Don’t!” Dixon just chuckled;  soon enough, Annie’s upper body seemed to melt away, until just her pelvis and legs remained.

                After Monica and Lara had completed their bath in the blue fluid, the liquid was drained away, and the tubes raised so both could be carried into the curing room. Lara couldn’t believe that such a short time ago she had been upset about becoming a mannequin. Now she knew that this was the most wonderful thing that could ever happen to her!

                She couldn’t believe how light she felt when Dixon picked her up; or how sensitive her skin now was. Just his slightest touch sent electric waves of pleasure coursing through her.

                Soon, both women were in the curing room, and being fitted with infusers. “This will help accelerate and complete the process of turning you completely to plastic, inside and out,” Dixon explained. He was staring at the women again. “Ladies, you are both exceptionally beautiful, but I can’t risk any possibility that you’ll ever be identified.”

                He took out a rubber hood, slipped it over Monica’s head, and soon began reshaping and smoothing her features. When Dixon removed the hood, Lara could see to her horror that her friend had been left a faceless abstract mannequin! Now, the waves of fear welled up anew inside of her; she was just beginning to make her peace with being plastic; but to also lose her sight?

                Soon, Dixon had the hood on her head, and she felt his touch through it, very much like a sculptor reshaping wet clay. Minutes later, when Dixon removed the covering, Lara discovered much to her relief that she could somehow still see.

                Now Dixon was speaking to both of the women. “Ladies, you will stay in this room until your plasticization process is completed. You need to cure, to harden, both inside and out. Once that’s done, you’ll end up in the lingerie department of one of my stores. I think you’ll sell a lot of teddies, garter belts, and the’ve got the bodies that dreams are made of.”

               EPILOGUE -- The Chamber mansion, two weeks later

                It was approaching midnight when the phone in Niles Chamber’s study rang. He sprang up from the couch and fumbled for the receiver. “Chamber? It’s Richard Gail.”

                “Yeah? What have you got for me?”

                Upstairs, Adam was finishing a great three-way session with his two sex dolls. Inside her plastic and silicone body, her mind still lived, though it was teetering on the edge of madness. Her brother had repeatedly had his way with her over the previous two weeks, and she literally couldn’t move a muscle on her own. She wondered what she had done to be consigned to this sort of Hell on earth.

                After erupting into his sister’s forever-open pussy, Adam rolled to the opposite side of the bed. “You’re my girl next time,” he whispered to the doll that had been his sister’s best friend. “I hope you can wait for your hot lover.”

                Downstairs, Adam’s father was hanging up the telephone. The news from Gail was simple. No word of Lara, or any of her crew. It appeared they had all gone into the Dura Sheer plant...and vanished.  Niles knew what that meant; it was a damn shame, too.

                Chamber took one more shot of scotch, then decided it was time to go back to his own bed. He stumbled up the circular staircase that led upstairs.

                After his hot lovemaking session, Adam had gone into his bathroom to shower. Niles heard the running water, saw the open door, and decided to say hello to his son. Poor Adam, he thought. This had to have been pretty rough on him, too.....

                As he wandered into his son’s bedroom, he found the two love dolls in the otherwise empty bed. For the first time, he saw his daughter as a love doll.

                “Why Jane,” he said. “I’ve been looking all over for you....and here you are.” With a sad smile, he said tenderly, “Welcome home, dear.” He planted a tender kiss on the doll’s forehead, then turned his attention to her companion, and smiled for the first time in weeks. “This must be Laura,” he said. “I’m sorry I never got to meet you while you two were in school together....I guess we ought to make up for lost time.”

                Chamber placed the love doll under his arm and began the long walk to his bedroom at the far end of the hall.


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