The Kiss

by Heather St. Claire

 I thought I was doing her a favor. Honest, I swear that’s the truth.

 My name is John. John Smith. A plain name for a fairly plain guy. I’ve had a couple of steady relationships in my life, but I’m afraid my real passion has been one of the things that’s kept me from forming a lasting bond with a woman.

 You see, I love mannequins; the more life-like, and the sexier, the better. And I love fetish clothing; give me the sight of a woman in a tight leather mini-skirt, a rubber body suit, or shiny, colorful spandex, and my heart will beat all the faster, and my dick will grow all the harder.

 So my ultimate dream came together about 10 years ago when a fetish clothing store opened in a mall in my city. “Passions,” they called it. Imagine, a dozen beautiful mannequins, all dressed up in the shiniest, tightest, sexiest clothing!

 I ended up hanging out in the mall just about every weekend, and of course, spent as much time in and around the store as possible. I made purchases from time to time, just so I wouldn’t be thought of as a loitering creep.

 Actually, within a few months, I got to know Mrs. Anne Ward, the woman who ran the store. She appeared to be in her early 60s, and usually dressed fairly conservatively. One day, I ventured an opinion, “You know, Mrs. Ward, you just don’t seem to me like the kind of woman you’d expect to find running a store like this.”

 A look of sadness crossed her face. “I’d rather not talk about it, John.”

 “O-K, sorry.”

 Although all the mannequins were beautiful, there was one I soon became fixated on. “I can see you like Nicole the best,” Mrs. Ward said.

 “Huh? give them names?”

 “Actually, just her. She does seem more lifelike than the others, doesn’t she?”
 I looked over her mannequin body. Yes, her skin was perfect, evenly-toned hard plastic. And yes, her thick, lustrous black hair was apparently a wig. Yes, there were pivot points at her joints. But something about her; something about her eyes, told me there was a spark of life inside.

 My routine didn’t change much until about six weeks ago. I went to the mall, and found “Passions” to be closed when it should have been open. I asked at the security office and was told Mrs. Ward had died of a heart attack the evening before. I felt terribly sad; she was a nice woman, but there always seemed to be something  missing in her life.

 I also have to admit part of the sadness was for me, losing my favorite hangout. “What’s going to happen to the store?” I asked.

 I was told that Mrs. Ward had no living relatives, so it was most likely the contents of the store would be sold to settle her outstanding debts, with any remainder going to the state.

 I resolved to be there for the sale.

 I had to pay several hundred dollars for Nicole. A small part of me said I was crazy, but I figured I wasn’t hurting anyone, so why not?

 I took her home, and set her up in a corner of my bedroom. I took out the outfits I had purchased from the store through the years and took a special delight in clothing her in the sexiest garb imaginable, which her well-proportioned plastic body showed off to perfect advantage.

 It was all going along fine, until last night.

 That’s when I had just finished putting her into a shiny, low-cut spandex top, leather skirt, leather jacket and leather boots. I started deeply into her glass eyes, and then whispered, “I love you, Nicole.” And then I closed my eyes, and placed a kiss on her lips.

 I expected the feeling of hard plastic. Imagine my absolute shock when I felt warm, moist, moving lips. I opened my eyes with a start, and saw Nicole was turning into a human! It happened so an instant, her pivot points disappeared, her plastic body lost its sheen and turned back to flesh, her eyes lost their glassiness, and her hair changed to a human’s.


 “Oh, John, oh, John!”

 “ don’t have to thank me....”

 “Thank you! THANK YOU?  You bastard, I HATE you!”

` “But...but why....I brought you to life!”

 “Brought me back to life, to be accurate.  My full name is Nicole Ward.”

 I began putting two and two together.

 “You don’t mean...”

 “Yes, I was -- am -- Anne Ward’s daughter. I hated my human life! My one wish, above all others, was to become a perfect mannequin to display sexy clothing! I finally told my mother about it...she thought I was nuts, tried to get me to go into therapy..” She was wiping tears from her face.

 “Go on.”

 “So finally, because she loved me, she found a practitioner of the black arts who could make my wish come true. And it happened! And that’s why she opened the store, so she could take care of me and watch over me! It was my dream come true! God, you’re just human, and a man can’t even begin to imagine what the endless orgasms are like!...

 `”There was just one problem with the spell. The witch warned us that the kiss of a man who truly loved me would release the spell. And you, damn you, you had to love me! And you had to kiss me!”

 “I’m sorry.”

 “These were the happiest 10 years of my life; and thanks to you, it’s over!”

 “What can I say...but I’m sorry.”

 She headed for the door. “Maybe I can find another witch.” The door slammed hard enough to shake the room.

 I hope, for her sake, she can. But I know I’ll never find another Nicole.

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