Mannequin

The sprawled out body lay before me. Arms and legs were broken into chunks and sprawled every which way. I was under no illusion that I had definitely messed up.

The mannequin had been standing up and displaying this season’s hottest fall fashion—if you were to believe the signs. I had been running through the mall, causing the typical chaos for a boy a few years into college.

One could argue that it was stupid or honorable of me to stand there over the doll. I could’ve run for the hills. I hoped nobody in this crowded mall had seen what I did, but, as for me? I was convinced it landed me in stupid territory.

Soon enough, a woman’s arm latched onto mine, breaking me out of my stupor. I glanced down and saw the manicured hand and a fancy watch. Following the arm up, I saw a well-dressed woman.

“Do you have any idea what you have done?” she growled with a certain amount of hatred in her eyes.

Redirecting my gaze down to the mannequin, I could only muster a shrug. “I broke a mannequin.” I took a second glance and noticed that there had been some rips in the fabric. The cloth had caught on a corner going down “and ruined some nice clothing.”

“You ruined a Bella M’Don.”

The name meant nothing to me, and the glazed-over look in my eyes said as much. “It is a very expensive clothing brand, and that outfit alone costs thousands,” she growled.

“Oh.” That single word seemed to echo with the intensity of how much I realized I had messed up.

“That was our last mannequin, too,” she bemoaned. I’m going to have to call the cops and report this.”

“N-no!” I begged. “I am a college student. During the fraternity hazing at State University, I had some trouble with the cops. One of the panty raids had gone wrong, and the cops let me off with a warning. I can’t afford to get in trouble again.”

That seemed to spark something. Some kind of venom behind her eyes seemed to light up. It was enough to spark up a debate if she was going to rip my arm off and beat me with it.

The heat of the moment seemed to have cooled off as she smiled. I felt like I was at least going to keep my arms. “Unfortunately for me, but fortunate for you, like I said, that was our last mannequin you broke, so we need a new one.”

“I can buy it.” It would eat into my savings fund, and I would eat even less than I was now. I had already cut out expensive foods and had lost some weight as a result, but I would do anything to avoid another interaction with the cops.

She scoffed at my offer. “We can buy it ourselves. We don’t need some poor college student paying for it. The problem is with shipping; it’ll take weeks to a month to arrive, and so we need a mannequin.”

“I can drive and get it then.”

She looked exasperated at my stupidity. Yet, a smart person wouldn’t have found themselves in this situation. “I want you to be a mannequin. We’ll give you clothes to wear and go to the store. Think about it like a modeling job.”

Pausing for a second to take in what she had stated, I had never thought of myself as a model. I was on the small side and skinny to boot, but I suppose in the world of high fashion, there were plenty of guys like me.

“I model your clothes, and you don’t call the cops?”

“Yup.”

“What about the price of the clothing?”

“I’ll have to eat some of the cost, unfortunately, but you’ll be working for us, so I’ll take it out of your pay.”

“I’d be getting paid?” The job market had been harsh, so being a model in a high-end clothing store and getting paid would be great. Things were actually looking up. This was almost too good to be true!

It was, in fact, too good to be true.

I showed up for my first shift on Saturday, ready to work. I had given myself a clean shave. Despite knowing I would have to change, I wore my nicest shirt, even got my hair done. For what they had in mind, none of that was good enough.

I had to shave once more, this time making sure I got all the hairs on my face, arms, chest, and even my legs. I hadn’t expected this, but it was easy enough to convince myself otherwise. I was going to be a model; this seemed a bit excessive, but I was willing to deal with it.

The real surprise came after. They stole my hair, put it up into a net, and then placed a wig on top. The wig had flowing red locks that came past my shoulders. Then came the replacement for my shirt and pants. And it was something else.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I barked as the ladies presented me with my outfit for the day. It was straight out of a model magazine, but not in the way I was expecting. This was for female fashion.

It was a long-sleeved dress in eye-catching red. If I were lucky, its skirt would only drop to my knees, and it was heavily accentuated with ruffles. It made it very clear why I had shaved my legs, at least.

“Why are you surprised, brat?” the woman stated with a twist of her lips. “You agreed to be a mannequin?”

“Yeah, but I am a guy.”

“But you broke a female mannequin.”

“Just give me some guy clothes to wear so I can be a mannequin that way.”

“All our male mannequins are still intact,” she insisted. “We need a new female mannequin, and you need to work off your debt.”

I stomped my foot. “I’m not going to do it.”

“So you choose the cops? I’ll be sure to remind them of your panty raiding incident. You’ll take your freshly shaved butt to prison and I’m sure you’ll fit right in.”

Her words caused me to blush a deep crimson.

“At first,” she continued, “I would’ve been fine with letting you pay it off. Even let the cops sort you out, but then you told me about the panty raid. That brought back memories from when I was in college. A complete disregard for other people and especially women. I knew I had to do something to teach you about how to be a woman.”

I lowered my eyes to my shoes. I didn’t want to admit it, and if I were in a better position, I’d have argued. But my options were to go to jail or have them teach me a lesson about being a woman. ” Fine, give me the dress.”

“Say it politely and like you want this pretty dress.”

No matter what she said about this being to teach me a lesson, I could see she was enjoying it. “May I please have the ever-so-pretty dress?”

Some of the other employees giggled as I stood there with my hand. I still had on the bright red wig, and now I was asking for a pretty dress, but it was only the start.

Not only did I have to wear the dress, but I was also given a bra and panties. The dress was low-cut, and I was flat as board. To showcase how great the outfit would look on a real girl, I would need some volume. So the employees gave me this silicone vest-like item with breasts on the front.

They told me they would be the equal of double D’s. With every step I took, I could feel them bounce and tug at my shoulders through the bra. And I would have to walk a lot.

Another part of my uniform was a pair of red wedge sandals. The store employees claimed they would be easy mode. This was despite the fact that they lifted my heels a good three inches off of the ground. Even with this ‘easy mode,’ I was still straining to stay upright.

They also instructed me to make one full loop around the store at least once an hour. Any time I didn’t spend walking around the store, I was to stand out front and be visible to everyone walking by.

Needless to say, I tried to spend as much time walking around the store as possible. As much as the heels hurt, I could put up with the pain if it meant not strutting my stuff in front of the entire mall.

Once or twice, a fellow employee would approach me and ask for help. It always caused me to blush to see all these real women dressed up so much more casually than me, often in pants and a shirt.

“Excuse me, Miss?” a young woman stated as she approached me and waved.

I hate to admit it, but once again, rather than running for safety, I seemed to freeze in place like before. This girl had a camera in hand and was wearing a casual outfit, but nothing that told me she was an employee of the store. She was a customer…

“Y-yes?” I responded, trying to pitch my voice as high as possible.

“I’m with State University’s photography club, and I am working on getting my fashion degree. I am working on an article for the new Bella M’Don line and would love to get a photograph of you in that dress for the article.”

“I-” I froze. She mentioned State University, the college I was attending. She wanted a photograph of me dressed like this for the school paper. I had to say ‘no’. I could make up an excuse about the store not allowing…” we don’t a-allow photography-”

“Of course, you may!” cut in the store manager as she swept an arm around my shoulders. She dug her nails into my shoulders. “We don’t allow photographs of store employees, but in the name of your education, I will allow it. If my new mannequin doesn’t have any objections, that is?”

I could tell from the tone of her voice that I didn’t. So, instead, I smiled, nodded, and struck the best pose I could for the school paper. I could only hope none of my college friends read the school paper’s fashion column.