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Written by: “Irene Naridza”
IA PIC MADE BY HOTPOT: https://hotpot.ai/art-generator
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Randall was a 25-year-old guy and quite the
pervert. Being in a rural area, there was less purchasing power for people and
businesses alike. This translated into many things, one of them being the lack
of security cameras.
After finishing his shift at a customer service
center, he would always head to the local mall, where he enjoyed rubbing up
against the female mannequins he found alone in some corner. Sometimes alone,
sometimes with friends, but always persistent. Being such a creep, that was the
closest he’d ever get to female contact.
He had been caught more than once white handed,
always leaving people who saw him confused. However, no one seemed to care
much. “Buy your own mannequin and do that stuff at home.” one former
security guard once told him, ignoring the shop owner who had asked for Randall
to be banned from the mall.
Everything changed one day. Randall rubbed
himself against a mannequin as usual. It was placed in such a quiet, hidden
corner that it pulled him in. But a sudden, sharp prick on his neck made
everything go black in an instant.
When he woke up, he was in what seemed to be a
storage room. No windows, only dim lights. Shelves were filled with boxes of
clothes and mannequin parts. What made Randall nervous was realizing he was
lying on a table and couldn’t move.
After several minutes of trying uselessly to
move or scream, he heard a heavy door opening and the clack of high heels
approaching. When the figure came into view, he quickly recognized her as the
owner and manager of the boutique to which the mannequin belonged.
“You have no idea how
sick I am of you doing your disgusting things to my mannequins.” she said as she walked over to one of the shelves and pulled out a box. “You have no idea how repulsive it is to find them
stained and reeking… but I think you’ll understand soon enough.” she added with a malicious smile.
“I talked it over with
the new mall director and the security staff. We all agree that your behavior
is completely unacceptable and has no place here. But just banning you wouldn’t
be fair.” She pulled out a pair of nylon tights and began putting them on Randall,
who still couldn’t move.
“That’s why we decided
that, in order for you to understand just how vile groping is —even if it’s a
mannequin— you’ll take its place.” She adjusted the tights at his waist. “Today,
you’ll be a mannequin for the entire day.”
she said with a smile before pulling out more pairs of tights and
wrapping Randall’s entire body.
Then she began attaching plastic plates over
his limbs. She used some kind of hot wax to seal the edges, locking the pieces
to Randall’s body. “These have metal rods, so
you’ll be forced to stand up.” she said as she kept pouring wax and
sealing the plastic shell encasing him. Randall could smell the burning plastic
in the air and feel the heat close to his skin.
She walked away again and searched the shelves
for a moment. She returned with a box that held what looked like a large doll’s
head. Without a word, she opened it and placed it over Randall’s head. His
vision became even more limited, barely able to see through the foggy lenses.
The heat and plastic fumes became almost
unbearable. Then he heard two other women enter the storage room. Their words
were muffled by the plastic cocoon around his head.
Amid giggles and teasing, they began dressing
him. They moved his plastic-wrapped limbs to get the clothes on properly. After
a moment, they lifted him and placed him on a transport cart. Only then did he
catch a glimpse of himself in a mirror.
He wore a blonde wig, a blouse, a mini skirt,
and pink high heels. They wheeled him to the side of the store, where the three
women carefully mounted him onto a metal base. Lastly, the manager forced a
purse into his plastic-gloved hand.
“You’ll be perfect for promoting the plus-size section.” she said, eyeing him up and down. “Oh, and don’t worry about using the bathroom. We put a diaper on you.” she added before walking out of sight. No matter what Randall did, he couldn’t move an inch or make a sound. His body was petrified, his throat numb. Even his breathing was so slow he barely noticed it.
Pop music flooded the store as the mall finally
opened at 9:00 a.m. Any attempt to cry for help was pointless. It was Tuesday,
and there wouldn’t be many people. Not that it would help anyway.
He saw a few people pass by. Most of the ones who stopped to look were girls, and not because they realized there was a person trapped inside a mannequin, but because they liked the outfit. Some even went into the store to buy the same one in their size.
It was past noon, and amid the pain in his feet
from the forced posture of the heels, he caught a familiar stench. The mix of
beer and sweat. The voice was unmistakable. It was one of his drinking buddies.
What came next was the nauseating breath reeking of alcohol and chili from a
food truck meal.
Randall felt his friend pressing up and rubbing
against the back of the mannequin. Or rather, his back. The man slipped his
hand under the blouse and started squeezing the plastic breasts. Though it was
supposed to be a solid shell, the plastic did nothing to stop Randall from
feeling every touch, every bit of heat from his friend.
(“STOP IT, YOU
IDIOT!”) is what he wanted to scream, but neither his jaw nor vocal cords
responded. Through the blurry lenses, he saw the store manager approaching from
one of the doors. Randall had hoped she’d chase the disgusting guy off. But she
just stood there, watching. Her satisfied smile was visible even through a
blindfold.
It was a quiet corner, after all. No one would
see a guy groping a mannequin. Worse for Randall. His friend had no idea there
was a real person inside.
LATER THAT NIGHT
“I hope that taught
you a lesson.” said the manager as she finished removing the plastic casing from the
mannequin. The muscle relaxants were starting to wear off. The security guard
was also there to prevent Randall from doing anything aggressive.
“Well then. Now you
know what’ll happen if we catch you touching any of my mannequins again.” the manager said, tossing him a bag
with his clothes. Randall barely moved. He was completely silent.
“Hurry up. I want to go home.” said the local pharmacist. Randall, still wrapped in nylon, sat on the
table hugging his legs.
“Oh, come on, it’s not
that bad.” the manager said. “We go through that
every day just taking the bus.” she
added when she saw how shaken he was. That didn’t help. Randall had begun to
cry softly. He couldn’t get the morning’s experience out of his head.
The women then recognized that kind of crying.
That despair of being violated and completely helpless. The manager felt a pang
of pity and placed a hand on his shoulder. “There,
there. It’s okay now.” she said gently, trying to comfort him.
THE END
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