by Paul G. Jutras

Alice walked from the shower trying to dry her long shoulder length hair. In only a bath robe, she entered her college dorm room and turned on the television. The channel 5 weather man was giving a major warning for its forecast:

     "This just in," said the weatherman. "This looks like it will be the worst hurricane season for Florida since the 1960s. The major threats are the hurricanes that have been named Charley, Frances and Ivan. These three storms looks like they will hit the coast of Florida only weeks apart from one another."

Alice sat with her legs crossed and turned off her blow dryer. A look of horror had filled her face. Because of the college parties she attended she missed many morning classes due to sleeping in. She couldn't afford to miss any more of the classes that didn't get cancelled due to a hurricane threat.

"I need to calm down."
Alice thought to herself as she got down on her knees before her coffee table opened up her laptop computer. "Maybe if I finish my story for the timeless beauty site, it will take my mind off things."

She began typing on the keyboard with one hand while the other reached between her legs and made her feel wet and shiver with an orgasm. She took a dildo and shoved it into her pussy. "Oh yeah, this is what I need. If I can't play shiver me timbers with some guy, this is the next best thing."

Signed on her favorite web site, Timeless Beauty, Alice began to work on her story. It was a story where a woman became a prisoner in her own pantyhose. Many of her girlfriends at college preferred the bare foot, bare leg look. She loved the silky look and feel of pantyhose. Before she got her own job at a local boutique, her family was so poor that she could only wear them for special occasions such as church when growing up.

After submitting the story, she logged off and went to bed. Her sheet was so soft that she loved how horny it made her feel as it brushed against her bare breasts. She slept so soundly that she didn't hear her dorm door open and a unknown figure slipping a pair of pantyhose into her underwear drawer.

When Alice got up the next morning she brushed her lower half under the sheet and found that she had fallen asleep with the dildo inside her until the battery went dead. She chuckled as she thought how sexless she looked with the dildo in and went to her dresser.

Soon she had a pair of pantyhose on that almost matched her skin tone perfectly. She noticed with the dildo inside she now could really be mistaken for a mannequin from the waist down. Especially with her flawless legs.

"You have mail!" She heard the electronic mailbox voice program speak from her laptop. She chose to forget about replacing the dildo's battery and knelt down to her computer. The message started out the same as other praise for her stories:

I loved your story very much. I especially like how real you made the main character's feelings toward the news reports of the coming hurricane storms. I have arranged it so you can never fear such storms again. In fact, you're wearing them.

"What does that supposed to mean?" Alice thought as she felt a tingle in her crotch area interrupt her reading. When she looked down, she notice the waist band of her pantyhose seemed to disappear into her skin. "What is this doing?" Suddenly fearful, she continued the message:

You should now start to feel the process take over you. You love writing those mannequin's stories. You will now be living your last one. I do mean that your last story will be your last story. Ever.

"This can't be happening!" Alice cried out in shock as she ran her delicately shaped and polished fingers over her upper body. A body half which was quickly taking on the same feel of smooth nylon as her lower half.

She stood up and tried to escape but her movements just got stiffer and stiffer, leaving her posed in place. Soon she found herself teetering on her toes frozen in place, unable to make a sound. Her skin took on the complete flawless look of plastic from the waist up while she'd forever feel the feeling of nylons from the waist down.

The next day the mysterious man who sent Alice the email arrived at her dorm. He packed her things away and mailed them back to her parents house while mailing Alice herself, securely nestled in the soft packing foam of a large box, to a clothing store in another state so nobody would be able to track her down or learn what had become of her.


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