Fashion Fantasies

“You busy after work?” Annie said to her coworker during lunch.

“Yeah,” Pamela said. She perked up at the thought. “Holden gave me a birthday gift last night and said I had to cash it in tonight before the weekend.”

“A week early? Isn’t your birthday next week sometime?”

“It is. But he said I had to pick up this gift now and couldn’t wait until my actual birthday.”

“Cool. This all sounds like fun. Cash what in?”

“I really don’t know. He knew I wanted to buy a dress for his sister Rebecca’s wedding but nothing was working. So he spoke to her and she said she knew the owner of a shop that had all the details about her wedding and would be able to get me something I’d like. And I’d be able to wear it somewhere other than a wedding.”

“That’s thoughtful.”

“She’s no nonsense. When I heard she was getting married I thought I’d end up in the wedding party. But other than her best friend and the groom’s best friend, no one else is in the wedding party.”

“Cool. Probably saves a lot of money too.”

“Probably. In any case, Holden is paying not only for the dress, but he said there’s a side business at this store and I would get to be pampered or something like that as part of the shopping experience.”

“Why isn’t my husband like Holden?”

“I had him first.”

“You can’t share?”

“Sorry.”

“But, you have no idea what the pampering involves?”

“I assume it’ll be a makeover of some sort. I doubt a clothing store has like a spa attached to it.”

“True. Did you drive in today?”

“He said I should take transit and he’d come pick me up when I was done. That way I wouldn’t have to deal with any merchandise afterward. And we would get something to eat after we leave the store.”

“Shopping and a date. You sure you can’t share.”

Pamela just smiled.

*****

The bus stop was right outside the store: Fashion Fantasies. Cute name, she thought. When she entered, the store appeared to have no one in it. But a woman in her early forties immediately entered the show room before the front door closed.

“Are you Pamela?” The woman said. “You look just as described.”

“I am. I was told I’d be expected but I didn’t know they’d sent a picture.”

“Of course. Wouldn’t want to expend any of the VIP treatment on the wrong person.” She clapped her hand and two other women entered. One was older than the greeter. She was probably the seamstress given the tape measure wrapped around her neck and the chalk dust lingering on her hands. The other woman was perhaps an apprentice to the seamstress.

“Would you please come over here so Genoa can take your measurements? My name is Mrs. Sandoval and I am the owner of Fashion Fantasies. But, you can call me London.”

“What interesting names?”

“Thank you, Ma’am,” Genoa said. “Monaco, help her to stand on the platform.”

“Monaco?”

“Huh? No, Monica, Ma’am. We aren’t are all named after cities.”

Pamela laughed at herself as took hold of the younger woman’s hand. It took a high step to get onto the platform. In the mirrors, she could see over all the merchandise in the store.

“I really have no idea what kind of dress I want.”

“Tut-tut,” the owner said. “You aren’t here to make decisions. You’re here to have decisions made for you. You just look pretty and we’ll take good care of you.”

It struck Pamela that London had told this to many people before. There was a gentle forcefulness to her words. She decided this was part of the fantasy part of the store’s name.

The seamstress gave her various instructions to turn or twist, step or slide, and so on that she performed without hesitation. She seemed to need to measure every inch of her body. Still, neither the demands nor the time seemed to bother Pamela. She felt very at ease. In fact, she was alone in the store and hadn’t noticed the others had gone in the back.

With nothing to do, Pamela waited. After a moment, she heard London say, “Okay, she’s ready. Go bring her back here.”

Monica walked over to the platform and picked Pamela up off of it.

Pamela had no idea what to think. She couldn’t move. She must also be light as a feather for a small woman like Monaco to just pick her up. Was she hollow now? She also wondered why she wasn’t panicking about any of this.

In the back, Monica set the plastic body down on a lower platform and removed its clothing. She started by removing the mannequin’s arms. Quickly, the armless mannequin was bare.

Although she couldn’t move or look around, Pamela could see there were a few other mannequins in the back. The details on them made her wonder if they were like her. She hadn’t notice at the time, but when she was in the show room, she could see a line of well made mannequins in the store window.

Monica removed Pamela’s head while she was ruminating. She set it down on a table filled with paints, dyes, and other art supplies.

Pamela was facing the doorway and saw Monica leave to return to the showroom. Several minutes later, she returned carrying one of the mannequins that had been in the store front window.

London cut off her view of Monica as she sat down in front of Pamela’s face and said, “I’m told you are probably loving this. Let me fill you in.” As she spoke she used brushes and applicators to change the color of Pamela’s makeup. “Rebecca and I have known each other for ages and she has told me several times about your secret desire to be a mannequin. Holden and Rebecca have been planning this for years. You belong to me now. You will decorate my front window for the foreseeable future.”

Pamela was beyond excited. She had always wanted to be a mannequin. She couldn’t understand why she hadn’t even given the store’s beautiful mannequins a second glance. She also had no idea when she had been transformed. She thought about all the things Genoa had said as she had measured her until she realized almost as soon as they started she just believed she’d been doing as she was told. The change had happened rather early in the process.

“Perfect.” London declared. She turned the mannequin head toward the mirror. Pamela almost didn’t recognize herself. Her face was stunningly beautiful. Just like she’d always dreamed. London set her down looking at herself in the mirror. She had no idea how long she just stared at her own face.

She was picked up without warning. She was flying through the air toward her body. It was dressed but she didn’t get a good look at the outfit. It wasn’t until her head was refastened to her neck that Monica stepped away so she could see herself.

Her body was a deeper skin tone, as if she’d been tanning for the last few months. The tone matched the dress perfectly. Shoes, stockings, asymmetrical print dress, loose plunging neckline, hoop earrings, a fresh hairdo. She wanted to go dancing looking like this.

And she wanted to stand in the store front stunning people who walked by. Monica and Genoa carefully lifted her onto a hand cart and wheeled her out to the showroom. The empty spot in the window grew wider as she drew closer to it. They placed her on the stand already waiting in the window. After a few last adjustments to her hair and carefully adjusting the draping of the dress, they left her alone.

Time passed.

A cat call made her focus to her left as well as she could without the ability to turn her head or move her eyes. Holden stood there. He was dressed casually. There was no way they could go out to eat. He was under dressed or she was overdressed no matter where they might go.

He disappeared. She heard him talking to London. They were standing next to her. London was talking, “Now that she’s here, can we extend the rental to five years. She is stunning.”

“As much as she would love to spend the next five years in the window, I don’t think that really works for me. My transfer to Tokyo is for eight years.”

“I can do eight years.”

“It’s a deal.” He leaned in close to her ear and said, “Enjoy your birthday present.” He kissed her cheek. She felt him move away.

Transfer? He had said something about a long distance transfer a few days ago. He’d been down about it because he couldn’t figure out how it could work. Their marriage could never survive living on separate continents. Was this how he planned to solve the issue?

“Today’s been a great day. Let’s go home, ladies.”

The lights in the store dimmed. Someone moved up close to Pamela and whispered, it was probably Monica, “He won’t come back in eight years. You know that, right?”

*****

The first few days were heavenly. All she could think about was being a pretty mannequin in a pretty dress in a fashionable window. The world hustled by outside the store window and she thrilled to everyone who slowed down or even stopped to give her a passing glance.

But, it nagged at her. Would he come back? Would he meet some cute anime girl and forget about her? Would he spend all his spare time in the geisha houses?

A presence appeared behind her and London said, “I sense some stress. Did Monica prank you with a nasty thought? That girl. Good help is so hard to find. You put the thought out of your pretty hollow head. You’re a mannequin. There’s no reason for you to think about anything but being pretty.”

Right. She was a pretty mannequin in a pretty dress in a fashionable store window making the world a pretty place.

A few days later, the mannequin next to her disappeared. Not a concern. She was a pretty mannequin after all. Later in the day it was replaced by a different mannequin. It looked familiar.

It was a week later when she had rubbed enough brains together to realize the new mannequin was Monica. Serves her right for scaring her like that. Although, she couldn’t remember how she had been scared. And being a mannequin wasn’t punishment. It was a privilege. Lucky Monica. Lucky me, she thought. We’re pretty mannequins in pretty dresses, right, Monica? Can’t hear, she thought. No matter. Pretty, pretty me. Pretty, pretty me.

*****

She wasn’t in the window. She wasn’t sure when she’d been moved. Genoa was changing her dress. Oh, that’s all. It was barely a blip on her stay at the store as she was back in the window in no time. This dress was a dark green. She thought about it and thought Rebecca hated green. She couldn’t go to Rebecca’s wedding in a green dress.

She would have laughed if she could have. She wasn’t going to any weddings. She was a pretty mannequin in a pretty dress in a fashionable window making the world a pretty place. Pretty, pretty me. Pretty, pretty me.

She remembered the wedding existed a few more times before the memory stopped getting her attention.

She didn’t like winter. All the pretty women outside were all covered up. She loved winter. That meant she was one of the few pretty mannequins in a pretty dress in a fashionable store making the world a pretty place. Pretty, pretty me. Pretty, pretty me.

*****

Several years had passed. She’d lost the ability to actually count them long ago. The Monica mannequin next to her had disappeared that morning. She didn’t know why. Maybe she was going to another store to make it pretty. Pretty, pretty me. Or maybe Monica was no longer being… no, that wasn’t it.

She heard London say, “We’ve already sold three of them. The others haven’t garnered any interest.”

“Pack it up?”

“I guess so. Rebecca will understand.”

The mannequin was carried into the backroom. A foam lined carton was set out on the floor. Its dress was removed and its parts were packed into the carton.

It was dark. Pretty, pretty me. She’d long since stopped singsonging about being in a window, which was good since she wasn’t. Pretty, pretty me.

*****

Arms held her. She inhaled. “Surprise!”

Pamela’s head darted to and fro. “Where?”

“How was your fantasy?” Holden said. He kissed her. It took a moment for her to give in to the kiss. She knew he’d make sense of it all.

When they stopped she saw Rebecca, Holden’s parents, her mother, her cousin Maria and her husband, Annie from work, and Monica and London?

“My fantasy?”

“She really thinks years have passed, Holden,” London said. “Sorry, Pamela. It’s only been a week.”

“A week? That can’t be right. There were winter coats on the people outside. And…”

“Time dilation fantasies are my specialty.”

“She is awesome,” Rebecca said. “Happy birthday, Sis.”

“That’s why you had to give me my gift early?”

“Yes.”

“Were you in on it?” She said to Annie.

“Who do you think covered for you for a week? How was it?”

“It was awesome. It’s starting to come back to me. Part of the time I think I wasn’t able to think.”

“That makes it easier to do the long term fantasy. You’ll get your actual memory of the past week back probably as part of dream tonight or tomorrow.”

The surprise birthday party followed normal birthday party form from there. She received other gifts, cake was cut and eaten, she was teased about her age using a nursery rhyme, et cetera.

One thing she hadn’t realized she missed was the sex she had with Holden that night. He had obviously missed her during the week she was gone. She was just glad the apartment hadn’t been a wreck with him living alone like that. They kissed one another gently as she fell asleep in his arms.

*****

She was in the window. There wasn’t the brain fog like the last time. She watched the world go by for several days. Nothing was the same. People just walked by never giving her a first glance. No one cared if there was a mannequin in the window or not.

London and the staff completely ignored her. It wasn’t until the ninth dawn had risen that she realized something was truly off. Shouldn’t it have ended in a week like they’d said?

It was then that Monica appeared in front of her, hovering in mid-air outside the store. Her mouth didn’t move but her eyes were red and orange, full of mirth marred by cruelty. “Did you enjoy my little joke? The fading mannequin mind. That had been your fantasy according to Rebecca.”

“What are you talking about? This is a dream.”

“No, the first time was the dream. This time is real,” she laughed. “I’m sure you thought London was the witch. Didn’t you? I let her give the customers that impression. I own you for eight years and you aren’t spending them in a mind fog. You’re suffering every day of it right there, my pretty, pretty mannequin. You’re watching the world completely ignore you. Day after day, month after month.”

Her laughter outlasted her image, which faded from view.

This was the dream, she thought. I want to be a mannequin. Being a mannequin would be so amazing. It can’t be like this. It can’t be. Holden wouldn’t let this happen. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.

Wake up.

WAKE.

UP.

A familiar voice whispered in her ear, “He won’t come back in eight years. You know that, right?”

--

I don’t usually put any commentary after my stories. I just want to point out that I’ve left this open to interpretation. Maybe it is as Monica said. And maybe this was the dream turned nightmare. Hearing those words would have cause her to bolt up in bed in a cold sweat, right? Is Holden holding her, asking what’s wrong? Maybe. Maybe not. That’s up to the reader.

Given that I usually reserve new stories on Patreon for six months, I released this in April so it will reach deviantArt by Halloween. As always, comments are welcome.