This is the eighth wonderful chapter of the continuing saga, to read part 7, click here.

Chapter 8: Mannequin Fun

He opened the latch and passed through the door. A wave of heat and the smell of hot surfaces assailed his senses as he stood at the threshold looking down at a vast room. Along one concrete wall sat a row of furnaces, searing orange white pools of molten glass shimmering through the heated air of their open hatchways. Several workmen wearing dark goggles were hard at work in front of the glass crucibles. One dipped the end of a long iron tube into the blazing pool of liquefied glass and twisted it, when a large glob of molten glass had gathered at the end he carefully pulled the tube out of the furnace. Swinging the tube downward he began to blow into the other end of the pipe, forcing a bubble of air to enlarge the melted glass into a hollow shape.

Another workman was further along with his creation, periodically reheating the glass in a gas flame to keep it soft and pliable, as he used special tools to shape the soft mass into the form of a long necked bottle.

Carl could feel a presence, a sense of pleasure flowing from the glass; focusing his telepathic abilities he started to hear a familiar mental voice.

“Wee, Weeeee, diz is fun!!!” Carl recognized the blissful mental emanations; it was Catherine the glass maid!

Her joyful exclamations coincided with one of the craftsmen swinging one of the iron pipes, using centrifugal force to elongate a blob of melted glass at its end. She sounded like someone whooping with pleasure on an amusement park ride!

Inevitably someone on the floor noticed Carl standing in the open doorway, a workman motioned to one of his fellows, who turned around, upon spying Carl he stopped work. Heading towards him, removing gloves and goggles as he ascended the concrete steps, he broke into a huge smile and extending his hand in greeting.

“Do I have the pleasure of meeting the famous Carl Williams?” The burly gentleman’s grip was almost painfully strong as he shook Carl’s hand. Carl winced slightly from the vice like grip and vainly attempted to match the force of the squeeze.

“I’m so glad to meet you, sir. My name is David Smithers, artist and owner of this glassworks.”

“You did receive the call from your sister?" Carl shouted over the roar of the furnaces.

“Oh yes, I did, but I forgot, sorry. “We’ve been very busy with this new batch of glass and get so involved in work that I’m a bit absentminded” David shouted back.

“I came to ask what you did with the broken glass that was donated to you?”

“Oh, the scrap glass! I could tell that immediately that it was high quality glass, water clear and obviously from fine crystal ware. I was told that a workman accidentally shattered a large glass figurine of yours, must of been tragic!” David continued, “Examining some of the larger pieces, I was stunned by the craftsmanship and the detail! A fragment of a finger even had fingernails, a segment of a face had eyelashes on its eyelid, I’ve never seen such workmanship, who produced it, please, I must know Mr. Williams!”

“Well, it’s sort of a secret, but I may own part of a glass studio, the artist would like to remain anonymous for now.” Carl danced on the edge of truth, the artist and the methods used would certainly like to remain unknown!, “Getting to the point, what did you do with the glass?”

“All the donated glass was placed in our furnaces along with a load of raw glass and melted down, it’s being fashioned into articles as we speak. That’s part of the reason I forgot to meet you in the front office, it’s this current load of glass.” David’s head tilted upwards, his face took on a blissful look as he continued, “The glass seems different somehow, it flows and forms better than normal glass. I noticed a feeling, an aura around it, as we work with it, as if it were singing to us with joy, it’s almost as if the glass were alive!”

“Maybe, maybe...” Carl replied, it was his turn to glance at the ceiling, “I’d like to purchase the all the articles made from this current batch of glass.”

“I don’t know...” David furrowed his brow, “The glass is turning out so well that it will certainly enhance my status in the art world. If you buy every piece of art glass no one else will be able to see them if they are all in your mansion. No, they will be sold on the open market for the rest of the world to see and thus bring me more business.”

“I’ll pay double the price.”

“No, the pieces will be advertisements to the skill of my artists, no.”

“Triple”

“People will see them and they will say David Smithers runs a great studio, we must buy more of his work and I will get more business, no!”

Carl gritted his teeth and hissed, “Quadruple!”

“Well perhaps, we can do business, you do have lots of visitors and social gatherings, parties, perhaps you will tell them were you got the art glass from, yes?”

“I’ll sign the check in your office, it’s quieter there and a bit cooler.”

The next day a number of large shipping crates were delivered to the Carl residence.

Carl reached into one of the crates and removed one of the cardboard boxes carefully stacked inside. Opening the box he removed an object wrapped in brown craft paper, carefully tearing off the protective covering, revealing a delicate glass vase of fine crystal.

“Well Catherine, it looks like your back home from your little vacation.” Carl telepathically dispatched his thoughts to the soul embedded in the glass.

“Hello, mazter Williams!” Catherine’s mind espered back from the material of the glass, “Being melted down wiz other glass and made intoz beautiful vases waz wonderful!! Itz FEELS sooo GOOD!!!”

“I know it feels good, but I’m going to fix that, in a few moments I will use my magic to restore you back to normal.”

“Pleaze can I stay zee rest of my vacation like thiz, being a statue waz fun, but thiz is soo differzent, pleaze can I stay diz way for a while longer?”

Carl thought for a moment and shrugged his shoulders, if she wanted it, why not give it to her, he could restore her anytime in the future.

The staff was busy the rest of the day unpacking, cleaning and placing the numerous glass vases in varied spots around the mansion. Catherine experienced immense pleasure as a consciousness existing simultaneously in dozens of separate art objects, after all, she was on vacation.

Tuesday morning in the Williams Department store, the sound of employees arriving in the rooms and hallways outside the storage room marked the end of the 3-day weekend. Pamela shifted part of her awareness to the noise outside as she realized that her pleasing interlude in the storeroom might be ending. There was the sound of approaching footsteps in the corridor outside, the reverberation of the metal door unlatching, florescent lights flickering for a second before coming to full brightness. Several employees entered the storeroom, a feeling of happy anticipation filled Pamela.

“Mr. Williams, I’m so glad you have taken an interest in our visual merchandising department.” Terry Thadowski, the head of the store’s display department spoke in an excited tone.

“I’ve decided to watch your department in operation and make a few suggestions along the way.” Carl continued, “I had a discussion with some marketing and ad people and have decided to personally oversee some aspects.”

Carl added a few more marketing buzzwords to thoroughly hide his real purpose, ensuring that Pamela would have a good time in her mannequin form. He directed the staff to reassemble Pamela; it was easy identifying her parts as he could see her spiritual aura in each of her components.

“My, Mr. Willaims, that is an attractive mannequin, for the life of me I’ve never seen that model before, it seems to resemble someone I’ve seen before.” Terry wondered out loud.

“Oh, the mannequin is a one of a kind model produced for this experiment. It’s the super model Pamela Eclaire, that’s why it looks familiar to you.” Carl winked at him and continued, “It may be the prototype of a new line of mannequins, uh, the Pamela series...”

“Oh yes, that’s why I recognized her, She must of enjoyed posing for a mannequin.”

Carl smiled, “Oh, she thoroughly enjoyed becoming a mannequin, in fact she still is enjoying it.”

Terry still wondered how the mannequin was placed in his storeroom under his nose; in fact he was slightly insulted by not being informed of the sudden changes. If it was a prototype model, why was it disassembled instead of being placed in the storeroom fully assembled, as was the normal procedure?

The window display selected for the experiment was a busy place that day. Six female mannequins, including Pamela had been moved from the storeroom to the display area. Pamela’s sense of anticipation grew with each moment as she stood in a cluster of her fellow mannequins all silently waiting their turn. The window display had already been prepared, with props, mounting fixtures and signage arranged in their proper places. Two of the mannequins were picked up and taken to their assigned spots to be dressed and mounted. Pamela was facing the direction of one of the spots and watched with interest as she watched one being prepared. As she watched the process take place her continual orgasm increased in intensity, she was impatient; she so wanted to be chosen next. Two more mannequins were taken from the grouping and in turn dressed and mounted, her desire to be next was so strong that if she could speak she would of shouted, “Take me, take me, please!”

Then it happened, she was finally picked up and gently carried to her assigned spot! An attendant carefully disassembled Pamela and laid her component parts upon the floor next to a large round disk of glass with a long metal mounting rod sticking up out of it. First the worker sat down on the floor and began to place a pair of pantyhose on Pamela’s legs. Pamela moaned inside with erotic joy at the sensation of sheer nylon stocking sliding up her flawless smooth plastic legs, on up over her hips and then the satisfying snap of the pantyhose’s elastic band upon her waist. Next, a pair of expensive shoes were slipped upon her dainty feet, after a few measurements, Pamela’s partly clothed lower section was stood upright and mounted on the stand.

Her pleasure had disappeared into smooth featureless plastic between her legs, but a new pleasure existed, near where her vagina had been, a small round socket indented into the bottom of her shinny plastic buttock. The socket was where the end of her butt rod fit, the rod a thin steel rod used to hold a mannequin upright on its base. When her legs and lower torso were mounted upon the rod, it seated in place with a slight click; she exploded into increased orgasm as the rigid shaft filled the socket. It spread from that spot to encompass each of her separate parts, a wave of increased pleasure that symbolized the next step of her transformation.

The employee picked up a skirt and placed it upon her waist, then put on a belt. Pamela watched her lower part being dressed with amusement; her upper torso, arms and hands were still lying on the floor. She could feel the garments upon the parts of herself already mounted upon the stand, the tickle of gentle hands performing the dressing and mounting. Watching from the perspective of the floor, the tactile sensation of being dressed was an incredibly erotic experience.

The employees left for a coffee break and she lay there for several minutes admiring her fully dressed bottom half, soon they returned and the process continued. Pamela’s upper torso was lifted up off the floor and placed upon the flat surface of her waist, twisted slightly locking it into place with a click. A satiny dress shirt was put on and tucked under her belt and skirt, then the belt was tightened. Her arms were slipped into the empty sleeves of the dress, each in turn seating in their sockets with satisfying clicks. Then her hands were placed back on, a bracelet slipped onto one delicate wrist. A necklace was placed on to accentuate her long slender neck. A blonde nylon wig was fit upon her bald head, brushed and shaped to the proper style. The worker stood before her and did a series of last minute adjustments of her position; clothing and hair, thus satisfied left her to attend to other work.

The remainder of the task was adjusting the display lighting. A row of spotlights were mounted in tracks on the ceiling, they were adjusted to achieve the proper illumination. Several floodlights off to the sides were positioned for ambient lighting. A few props were altered, the spotlights given a final tweak, and then it was done. The work finished, the window display complete, all left, closing and locking the door leading to the display area. Noise and activity was replaced with motionless silence.

Pamela, the mannequin posed in all her plastic glory, the slight smile on her glossy face barely hinting at the heavenly ecstasy within her. She could see the street outside and in the glass before her a faint reflection of her window display. The subtle reflection revealed a row of mannequins in stationary grandeur exhibiting the latest fashions. Pamela recognized herself, among her sisters, truly her siblings, now that she too was a figure of fiberglass identical in form, substance and composition.

In human form she would often preen and pose before a mirror, examining her flawless beauty, trying on different outfits in her own private fashion show. It was a similar feeling, but vastly amplified in seeing her still reflection in the window glass. Body of rigid plastic, nylon hair, nylon panty hose, vinyl shoes, polyester and acrylic fiber clothing. The sensation of being plastic, wearing plastic, the smooth feel of plastic against her porcelain smooth synthetic body a pleasure beyond description.

Carl walked outside his store and stood before the display window Pamela occupied, admiring the view.

“Pamela, you look great, stunning in fact!” Carl telepathed to her.

“Yesss! Thank you my love, this is soo wonderful, thank you, thank you, thank you!!!” Pamela thoughts espered in return.

“I have to be going now, see you a week from now.” Carl winked at her; “You look beautiful as a mannequin.” He turned and left whistling happily.

“OHHH, I”M SOOO BEAUTIFUL!, I”M A MANNEQUIN! I”M PLASTIC, WEARING PLASTIC, I”M A MANNEQUIN, I”M A MANNEQUIN!!!!!” Pamela’s thoughts filled with joy as her mind dove into the constant pleasure of her new existence.

Terry went to the security office, normally off limits to employees, except him. A while before he had gotten hold of some incriminating evidence of one of the security men taking bribes. Looking the other way when cash register skimming went on, then taking a percentage of the cut. Terry had used his knowledge to blackmail the guard into providing certain services and privileges that had ensured his rise to the top of his department.

There were hidden security cameras throughout the store, including the interior of the mannequin storeroom. Videotapes were automatically recorded 24 hours a day, then archived, as the amount of tape generated was so colossal that no one could review it all. Only when something turned up missing or something suspicious transpired were the relevant tapes looked at. He checked out the tape of the storeroom and began to fast forward from the previous Friday afternoon, slowing the tape when he saw movement after closing hours. He watched Carl Williams and Pamela Eclaire enter the storeroom, Pamela remove her clothes and pose next to a mannequin. At first Terry thought that both were about to act out some sexual fetish, his jaw dropped in astonishment at what came next. He watched till Mr. Williams left, rewound the tape and watched the magical scene over again several times. After making two copies of the interesting portion of the tape he left, two videocassettes in hand along with the plan forming in his mind.

The days and nights passed with a pleasant tranquility, as Pamela watched the changing street scene outside the store window. One day she noticed a photographer walking along the opposite side of the street, occasionally stopping to take pictures of store windows. She watched with silent interest as he slowly worked his way down the street and out of sight around a corner. Several minutes later the mysterious photographer reappeared at the edge of her vision, strolling down her side of the street. He finally caught sight of her window display and paused on the sidewalk in front. She saw a look of awe pass on his face, then a broad smile as he raised his camera and began snapping pictures. He stepped back and began to take a series of wide-angle shots from different angles, moving to different points on the sidewalk, trying different perspectives. Then moved closer to focus in on the individual mannequins. She noticed that most pictures were of her, she was flattered to be the center of attention of the photo shoot. Pamela had always gotten a thrill on seeing pictures of herself in an inanimate state, having viewed pictures of herself as a statue but never as a mannequin. The thought made her orgasm increase. She thought, after her stint as a mannequin was over, she and Carl would find the photographer and purchase copies of the photos.
 

Carl sat in his favorite chair, in his hand a gold necklace recently purchased at one of his establishments. In the mental background was a faint musical singing that only a person with telepathic abilities could perceive. The joyous song permeated the very air, coming from Catherine the maid, once human, transformed into a living glass sculpture, then into dozens of beautiful glass vases arranged about the mansion. Her song was a gentle and melodious tune of endless joy from an immortal soul transformed into living works of art.

Carl could feel a faint aura emanating from the gold jewelry he held; he began to psychically examine the object. He was amazed, there were conscious minds withering in ecstasy inside the very substance of the gold necklace!

“Hello, who are you?”

“Ahhh, a kindred spirit answers us!” The multitude of souls answered like a chorus of tinkling metallic voices in his mind.

“My name is Carl, I could hear your thoughts, feel your living essence within the gold.”

“We have many names, all that dwell in eternal pleasure as living gold.”

“How did you end up as gold?”

“We are the golden maidens, ages ago blessed by the loving touch of King Midas, thus given eternal life and endless joy.”

“I have heard the legend of King Midas, of how all he touched was turned into purest gold.”

“Yes, it is true, King Midas was our ruler, who, granted the golden touch by the god Bachias, graced us.”

“But didn’t Midas starve on account of his food turning to gold?”

The chorus of contented voices continued, “Bachias relented slightly, therefore for one hour after the start of dawn and one hour after sunset the Kings golden touch disappeared, thus he could eat, drink and make merry. One evening, forgetting the time limit, he accidentally transformed Ariel, a lovely servant girl, transmuting her into solid gold.”

“I’m familiar with accidental touching myself.” Carl commented whimsically, remembering his maid, Catherine.

“King Midas was sorrowful, but astonished by her magnificence had the statue mounted in the courtyard. At first we were stunned, even horrified at Ariel’s fate, nevertheless her golden beauty captivated all in the royal court. But fate was due to change all with the arrival of one person.

The king had several clairvoyants, the greatest of all, the oracle Hypatia, a woman of great power who could read the thoughts of others. Midas used her to peer into the minds of those on trial to divine the truth, no one could give false witness before Hypatia.”

“Ah, a mind reader!” Carl interjected.

          “Yes, Hypatia was a perceiver of thoughts, just as you are. The statue had been standing in the courtyard for a day, when Hypatia arrived. Previously the king had sent her to an outlying village to oversee a minor land dispute. Entering the courtyard she was taken aback at the sight of the gold statue gleaming in the sunlight. With a look of puzzlement upon her face, she advanced closer to the statue. She laid her hands upon the golden figure and cried out with joy, then embraced the statue, rubbing against it while uttering moans of pleasure as if in the throes of lovemaking. Soon she fell away exhausted; full of concern, we carried her to a couch. After a few minutes she recovered, and enlightened us to what had transpired.”

Carl sat back and continued to lend a telepathic ear.

“What she told us brought rejoicing to all, for Ariel was still alive, her soul fixed within her metal body, forever in a state of heavenly bliss.

Hypatia had the ability to act as a channel between two persons, allowing them to share their thoughts and experiences. To prove that Ariel still lived she had King Midas stand alongside the golden statue. The King closed his eyes while Hypatia raised her hands, acting as a conduit betwixt the two spirits. King Midas stood still for a second, then began to quiver with delight as a cry of joy escaped his lips. After a few moments he backed away, astonished, a look of contentment and wonder affixed to his face. Experiencing a minuscule portion of Ariel’s pleasure during the brief spiritual contact proved that she still lived, relieving the King’s burden of guilt.

Originally from the isle of Lesbos, Hypatia, held a deep distrust of men, because of her oath of loyalty to the crown, Midas was the only male that Hypatia bridged souls with. That evening, in secret, Hypatia joined souls with the ladies in the court, convincing them of Ariel’s celestial bliss. All women who linked found themselves filled with an insatiable craving to share her fate and thus enjoy eternal delight, become perpetually young, beautiful and immortal as living gold.

The next day Midas found several of his young and most beautiful maidens petitioning to undergo the golden touch and be transformed forever into gold statues. At first the king was amused, thinking that it was in jest, thereupon becoming concerned, even aghast at the thought. It took the influence of Hypatia and several of his favorite maidens many days to sway his will.

Finally, the great day arrived; previously, several pedestals had been placed in suitable spots in the main courtyard, awaiting their occupants. Those who had been chosen took their place upon their assigned pedestal and chose an appropriate pose. And one by one king Midas granted his golden touch upon them, transforming them into eternal works of art. Midas found himself delighted by the exquisite solid gold statues decorating his palace; a growing desire for additions began to occupy his thoughts. Gradually the entire palace was filled with gleaming sculptures of precious metal; there was no shortage of enthusiastic volunteers, young women offering themselves to eternal splendor.

The kingdom prospered and reached its peak under king Midas’s rule, but all kingdoms eventually decline, Midas grew elderly and eventually went to the gods. With his passing the heart went out of the populace, the king who succeeded Midas was weak and incompetent. Soon the kingdom was prostrate before the sword of invading armies, their troops driven by tales of vast quantities of gold. The kingdom fell, and the palace looted by the assaulting hordes. We, the golden maidens of Midas were carted away to foreign lands, mounted in despots throne rooms, placed in treasure hoards or whatever the whim of our possessors. Over time, through the ages of conflict and conquest each and every one of our golden bodies was melted down with other gold. Thus we found ourselves reborn as jewelry, coins, ingots and other golden forms repeatedly throughout the ages, dispersed throughout the world. Our souls conjoined with our golden substance over time, constant remelting and refashioning caused our individual essences to unite. All gold was once part of a trinket owned by Cleopatra, King Aurthrs crown, Mayan treasure or gold statues from the kingdom of Midas, remolded, mixed and refashioned over again and again. We have witnessed thousands of years of history pass before us, each iota of gold a viewpoint to the mortal world.”

“That’s an incredible narrative!” Were Carl’s only thoughts.

“Yes, unimaginable to you, but as a mortal you will never know our golden pleasure.”

“Actually I do know the pleasure of being gold!” Carl whimsically replied.

“You attempt to humor us human, your transitory existence will never know even the slightest hint of our glory!”

“I have a touch greater than King Midas, a touch I can bring forth or take away at will and even restore that what has been transformed.”

“Prove your boast!”

“Watch!” Carl turned a rose in a flower vase into gold, removing the golden blossom from its container he held it before the sentient jewelry.

“By the gods!” An amazed chorus of minds spoke, “You truly have the golden touch!”

“There is more to my powers.” The gold blossom lost its yellow cast and became silvery; “The rose is turned to silver.”

Demonstrating further, he turned the rose to glass, then dashed the delicate glass flower upon the desk, shattering it. With a wave of his hand, he restored the fragments back to one flawless piece of glass, then back into a living flower. Carl had a smug look on his face as he plased the rose back into its vase.

“You truly have powers beyond Midas!”

“Then you’ll love this!” Stroking the ornament in his hand, it turned into platinum. Elevated moans of pleasure erupted from the ring as dozens of souls cried out with astonishment.

“We can feel the part of us within the necklace transformed, the sensation is as wonderful as gold but different, as if a new flavor was being tasted!”

“Myself and several others have noticed that each substance has a distinct feel, all pleasurable and exotic.”

“You have experienced golden existence, yet you are now flesh and blood?”

“I can transform myself and others by power of will and restore myself at any time of my choosing.”

Instantly Carl became a gold statue as he continued his telepathic discourse with the souls within the jewelry, “As you can see I am gold as well!”

A moment later he turned to silvery platinum, then marble, then back to flesh and blood, all in a few brief moments.

“And turn myself back to normal with a mere thought!”

“We are exalted by your powers, we could wish to explore existence as other substances, but alas, the few pieces of jewelry you possess contain only a small part of our essence. Thus only a tiny portion of our experience encompasses the new pleasure you have shown us.”

Carl went silent, sat back in his chair and pondered that inescapable fact, he began to think furiously.

Carl stood before several large boulders arranged in an artistic motif as part of a rock garden in the inner courtyard. They were about the right size for what he planned. Each granite slab was about the size of a pickup truck, and weighed several tons. He reached out his hand to caress the massive weight of rock, feeling the rough surface, sensing the mass pressing down upon the earth. His precious touch came into play and the weight of the boulders increased dramatically as the dense granite of the rock turned to even denser gold. There was a slight shiver in the ground as hundreds of tons of precious metal settled deeper into the soil.

Carl placed the enchanted necklace upon the ground several feet from the edge of the metal boulders and called forth his magical powers. The massive pile of gold began to glow as their edges began to grow indistinct and fuzzy as if the boulders were slowly dissolving. At the same instant a glow surrounded the gold ornament upon the ground and a hazy cloud began to whirlpool around it. Atom by atom the gold of the boulders were being transposed magically with the atoms of gold constraining the spirits of the golden maidens. Across the world, in countless jewelry boxes, stores, bank vaults and treasure hoards atoms of gold were trading places. The golden articles were unchanged to the naked eye, but the living souls inhabiting them had moved elsewhere.

Soon the incantation was complete, just a small pile of golden rubble remained where once massive gold boulders had stood. The diminishment of the former rock pile wasn’t the only change, for scattered across the courtyard were a plethora of solid gold statues of beautiful women in erotic poses.

Carl let out a deep sigh of contentment as he stood among the bevy of gilded beauties; the spell had worked, now to try another experiment. He walked over to one of the statues and brought his touch once again into play. The statue of a ravishing woman lost her golden sheen and stood for a second as a look of amazement formed upon her face. She stretched her arms and yawned as if waking from a short nap instead of millennia of immobility. Laughing merrily she jumped off her pedestal and hugged Carl, bestowing a deep passionate kiss upon him.

The head butler was making his usual rounds when he noticed something peculiar; was it another strange occurrence? Aware of faint sounds of laughter coming from the courtyard, he peeked though a window; and glimpsed a vision of paradise. In the vast area of the inner sanctum Master Williams walked along a pathway, accompanied by a harem of gorgeous women, all unclothed and altogether showing him considerable affection.
 
 
 
 

Coming soon, Chapter 9: A Gathering of Statues