The Cry

By Rotwang

The young woman poked her head from behind the shower-curtain and cleared her throat to attract his attention.

"Do I need to have ALL my hair removed ?" Allison signed to him with her long dextrous fingers.

"Every little hair, or else it'll hurt when you get out of it." Frank answered while stirring some strange mixture in a large industrial mixer, and smiled at the young mute woman.

About fifteen minutes later, Allison emerged from the shower and finished tying her hair together. "This okay ?" She signed, while showing her naked body devoid of hair.

"Perfect ! " Frank replied, while propping up the large fibre-glass mold.

Allison sat down and Frank put a rubber cap over her hair, smoothed it out and glued the edges on her head. When it looked perfect, he grabbed a piece of medical tubing and inserted it into her nose. He connected the tube to a bottle of oxygen.

"Can you breathe all right ?" She gave him a thumbs up. "The mixture you'll get to breathe will be less rich, but enough for our experiment." He covered the tubing with tape, down to the scar on her throat, a reminder that an accident had taken her voice.

The next step was more complicated, involving an intravenous probe that would furnish Allison with basic nutrients. Every inch of cabling was carefully taped down and covered up. Allison had a switch in her mouth, so she could activate a lightbulb by pressing it. Finally they installed a tube which would drain the urine she would produce. Then he and Allison walked over to a bathtub filled with a thick white paste. Before she stepped in, Frank covered her pussy with impermeable tape. Once she had gone in up to her neck, she got out again to dry a bit and let the excess liquid stream off her body. Finally Frank produced the mask. A tight plastic shell in the image of a woman's head, hinged at the top, closed over her head, encasing it completely down the neck to the shoulders, fastened with metal strips held in place by tiny screws. Then he placed a metal brace around her ankle from which protruded two heavy bolts.

"Are you okay in there ?" Allison gave him a thumbs up. Frank hooked up the oxygen and led the blind Allison to the mold waiting for her.

He closed the mold around her and held it shut with clamps. He knocked on the hard fibre-glass shell and heard a slight knock back. The oxygen tube checked once more, Frank put a hose on the hole in the mold and the mixture he had been preparing before flowed in, until it poured out at the seams. Frank checked his watch and saw that it was past midnight. He settled down in his old, tattered couch and watched some videos.

Dawn came and Frank stretching and yawning, changed the oxygen bottle. He tapped the mold, and the lightbulb flashed once. He undid the clamps one after the other and forced the mold open. The grey mixture had turned white and was now very hard. Although there were many barbs to get rid off, the result after several hours was impressive. Inside the seamless, beautiful white mannequin was a living, breathing woman. Completely unable to move because of the extremely hard external shell. Then came the long and arduous process of polishing her surface, painting her flesh-pink and doing her make-up. Here eyes were beautiful green, with reflections of light painted in. Her cheeks were rouged up and her mouth was painted bright red. After Frank was done, she was indistinguishable of any other mannequin.

Inside the cocoon, Allison felt strangely detached from reality. She really felt like an object. Inside her personal prison, breathing was a fastidious affair, but rewarding. She felt the tugging and moving, and then she noticed she was being placed against a wall and knew she was being dressed. Inside her mask, she revelled in the sensation of her new hard skin. In drying, the composite plastic had contracted slightly, making her very snug indeed. As she was placed back on her feet, she felt an orgasm come up.

As Frank wiped the sweat from his face, he took a few steps back and watched his creation. A beautiful mannequin, with a regal, almost haughty look on her face with short black hair and a long black lace evening dress, complete with arm length gloves and golden jewellery. He had secured her ankle to a circular platform, bolting it to a short metal bar. The platform itself resting on a black block, which contained the food and oxygen bottles.

"She looks amazing ! Too bad it's on loan for only three days." Mrs Cunningham said to Frank as both looked at her in the display window. The mannequin looked like a movie star.

"She's so lifelike, it's a beautiful job." Mrs Cunningham congratulated Frank.

"There is something I must ask." Frank interceded. "I need to check on her two or three times a day, I've been trying out some new materials and I want to know how well they hold out under the spotlights."

"No problem."

Allison could sense the people staring at her. She felt a perverse pleasure, imagining that nobody knew the truth about her. She knew that among the many passers-by at least a few felt something for her, as a mannequin, secret fantasies of her coming to life. The faint music in the store reached her and soothed her. Every few hours, Frank would come and check on her and once a day, change the oxygen for her. Then he would kiss her goodbye for the night.

The second day, her confinement had brought an almost drowsy feeling while she felt almost constantly horny. Until she heard a woman's voice next to her.

"I suppose this was his last masterpiece. Poor man, run over by a car just like that."

"Still, here's a piece we'll cherish for years to come..."

Inside the mannequin was a long, but silent cry of agony...