Giantess Stories: A Debt Reduction Plan

Giantess Movie Clips Enjoy more than 1000 giantess anime, commercials, music and game videos


A Debt Reduction Plan

by Disman



Paul led a very basic and lonely life. He was on

his final year of five years of engineering school and totally immersed in his

studies. He rarely dated and never formed a meaningful relationship. After

college he would probably go to work for a high tech firm as a starting

engineer. A lifetime of boredom lay ahead of him.

Paul needed something more in his life and that

something more walked up and sat next to him in the Tex-Mex across the street

from campus.

Her name was Zena. The name itself spelled

excitement! Zena was everything that Paul wasn't—outgoing, flashy and talkative.

Paul was entranced by her personality and her beauty. Zena wore a tight fitting

sleeveless top with a low neckline. Her evenly tanned skin was perfectly even in

tone—not even a freckle. She had a wonderful head of dark brown hair. She had to

be the most beautiful woman Paul had ever seen. Paul felt a hardening between

his legs as he took quick peeks at her "perfect" breasts. He could glimpse the

whiteness of her bra under the top. The white bra looked exquisite and brand new

against her tanned skin. Not once did Paul wonder why a girl like Zena would be

attracted to a nerdy looking, freckled redhead like him.







Within a few weeks Zena moved in with Paul. When

Zena made love to Paul—his first—and the experience was beyond his wildest


Zena literally changed Paul's life. A life once

consumed with mathematical equations and computer simulations, was now spending

every minute looking forward to being with Zena. Paul's wardrobe changed—he went

from polyester pants, blue dress shirts (pencil protectors included) and black

dress shoes to khaki pants and polo shirts with designer labels. He even had his

hair styled. His favorite sport went from computer games to skydiving. Zena

truly made him alive.

But oddly, Paul never knew to much about Zena.

He knew she worked at the mall, but he never knew quite what she did. He thought

that she must make good money since she was always coming home with shopping

bags filled with new clothes from Davila's--the largest and most expensive store

at the mall.

Then it happened. They had been living together

for about two months when Paul came home to see Zena crying on the couch.

"What's wrong!?" Paul would do anything to help

Zena. He was on an emotional high that he never wanted to end.

"I'm in trouble—big trouble," cried Zena.

"What's wrong."

"I'm in debt up to my ass and back. Look." Zena

held up an official looking letter that had come in the mail that day. Paul

lifted the letter from her hands. It was from Davila's. Paul read the letter:

Dear Zena:

Over the past months we have tried to speak with you on multiple

occasions about your account that is seriously past due. The current due on

your account is $12,476.29. Bob Nikenam, our vice president for asset

recovery, will be in his office to speak with you at 11:00 a.m. on Thursday,

June 6. We suggest that you meet this appointment. We have surveyed your

financial situation and feel that you have purchased items with no intention

to pay for them and by the laws of this state you can be prosecuted for

theft. In this state a conviction of theft through a credit card carries a

minimum term of three years in prison (TAR 3455.2). Obviously we would

prefer other options and Mr. Nikenam is prepared to share those options with

you. His office is on the third floor in customer service.


Margaret Frease

Credit Supervisor

Paul wanted to scream as he thought to himself.

Holy shit! Twelve thousand bucks! How could a person ever charge twelve thousand

bucks! "Is this true?" he whispered to the still sobbing Zena.


"Do you have the money to pay this? I mean, er .

. a . . you always seem to have plenty of money."

"No. I have two dollars and twenty-five cents.

That's it, I'm broke."

"What about your parents, or family?"

"I have no one. I'm alone, you're all I've got."

"I'm broke too," admitted Paul. "Between college

and the new clothes since we've met, I'm in debt myself." Paul paused then look

back to Zena, "what are you going to do?"

"I guess I'll be seeing this Bob Nikenam at

11:00 on Thursday. Oh, crap! That's tomorrow!"







It was finals week on June 6 and Paul didn't get

out of his 11:00 exam until 1:30. His mind was absorbed with Zena's predicament.

He rushed home and walked in the door at 1:45. Zena was sitting at the table

eating a sandwich, looking as if nothing had happened.

"How was your day, honey?"

"Never mind my day," Paul shot back. "What did

Bob Nikeman, or whatever his name was, say?"

"It's okay hon. I just have to be a mannequin

for a year and they'll clear my debt. I've done it before. I start tomorrow."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Paul

wondered if the stress had done something to Zena, she was totally relaxed and

talked nonsense.

"Just like I said, I'll be a mannequin for

Davila's for a year and they'll clear my debt. They have the ability to turn my

body into a mannequin and return me to normal at the end of a year. They like

realistic mannequins and it's worth twelve grand for them to have my body for a


Paul was astonished. "I-I-I've never heard of

such a thing. How can it be possible?"

"It is. I did it a year or so ago. My charge

card was up to fifteen grand then. I just got off a few months before I met you.

Time flies when you're doing it, you don't age and they can mold your body into

the perfect shape. I was twenty pounds overweight when I started the first


Paul still couldn't believe his ears and his

scientific mind had questions. "How do they do it?"

"Well, first of all, this Bob Nikenam is really

a doctor and Margaret Frease is his nurse. I go in to their lab and take off all

my clothes. Then the lady shaves my body bare—and I mean bare! Every bit of hair

is gone, even my eyebrows. Then comes the uncomfortable part, they lay me down

on a table and they put a tube down my throat and another one up my ass. The

tubes are hooked up to a machine that pumps out all my excess body fluids and

fills me up with some white creamy looking fluid.

"Then they leave me alone for about an hour. I'm

strapped to the table—I think so I can't change my mind and try to leave. After

an hour they come back and stand me up. I'm perfectly stiff by now and can't

move. They pose my body into the mannequin pose and begin to massage by body

into shape. Wherever they put me I stay. They have some suction device that can

take away fat or add shape however they desire. The doctor guy is always

measuring me while the lady forms my figure into the perfect mannequin shape.

"When they are finally finished. They spray a

hardening substance over my body and leave me overnight to dry. In the morning

they take me to the display people who dress me up for the display.

"Like I say, I did it before. When I was awake,

I was aware of everything going on around me. It was a little boring, but it

wasn't so bad. Time really went fairly quick and in the end you get a great body

and no debt!

"The only drawbacks are having to cut off your

life for a year and having to occasionally be naked in public. But after a while

I actually looked forward to changing day, I guess I liked the attention. Also,

it was a bummer every now and then when a security guard or someone would fondle

me. Although there was this cute display staffer, Gary I think, that caressed me

in such a way that I was actually turned on. I had a dry, frozen orgasm!"

Paul sat dumbfounded, he couldn't believe his


"You can't tell anybody though. I sign a

confidentiality agreement and if they find out that I tell anybody—other than

you —they would reinstall my debt."

Paul didn't say much. He actually felt guilty.

Instead of being worried for Zena, the more he thought of her being made into a

mannequin, the more he was turned on. That evening they had great sex over and

over, finally going to bed at 2:00 a.m. During the course of the evening they

talked while Paul recharged. Zena confessed that she really loved Paul and

wondered if he would still be there for her a year from then. Paul assured her

that he'd be there for her, he couldn't bear to lose this woman that had brought

new erotic excitement to his life.







On Friday morning, Paul took Zena down to

Davila's. There he met Margaret Frease. She assured him that things would be

okay and told him that he could come to the store a half hour before opening on

Saturday morning and see Zena in her mannequin form. Paul and Zena embraced in a

goodbye kiss that would have to last a year. Paul then headed back to his last

exam and felt more lonely than ever. A different kind of loneliness, a

loneliness that had had a love that was now absent.

The next morning Paul was at the side entrance

to Davila's at 9:30 sharp. He had slept a restless night with dreams and visions

of what Zena would look like as a mannequin. Although he felt sorry for Zena

having to pay the penalty for overspending, he still became arroused when he

thought of the process that they put Zena through to become a mannequin. He also

wondered what it would be like having your body prepared to be made into a

mannequin. He further wondered what it would be like being stiff and immobile,

having someone else dress you and really do whatever they wanted with your body.

The more he thought the more turned on he was and the more. . . could it be

envious? . . . he was. He had finally gone to sleep with a wild mixture of

thoughts in his head.

Margaret Frease met Paul at the door at 9:32.

Paul would remember the time. His anxiety caused him to frequently check on his

watch. "Good morning Paul," welcomed Margaret. "Zena did very well, she is

currently on display. You may go and find her."

"Find her? Where's she at?"

"I'll tell you where she's at if you wish, but I

find that most people enjoy looking through the store to try and find their


"Okay. I'll look on my own. Will you be going

with me?"

"Only if you want me to," reassured Margaret


With that, Paul set out across the first floor

looking for the mannequin that was Zena. He quickly found that the first floor

had cosmetics, accessories and men's clothing--very few mannequins. Up the

escalator to the second floor. This floor was devoted to women's clothing and

there were plenty of mannequins to choose from. Paul looked anxiously looked for

Zena. Mannequins lined the aisles. At a distance Paul noticed a mannequin with

Zena's brunette hair color, styled in the same way. His heart pounding in

anticipation, Paul walked up to the mannequin. She was wearing tight fitting

jeans and a short white top that exposed her midriff in the space between her

jeans and her top. But looking her in the eyes, he could tell it wasn't Zena.

Paul then took the escalator up to the third and

final floor. At the top of the escalator Paul saw home furnishings and kitchen

wear--no mannequins. But turning around he saw mannequins! Intimate apparel and

children's clothing were on the back side of the floor. Paul walked over to the

intimate apparel department. The department was huge with rose colored walls and

racks filled with pastel colored bras, panties, slips and sleepwear.

At the entrance to the department were two

displays. On the right were two beautiful mannequins dressed in sleepwear. But

the display on the left immediately caught Paul's attention. Paul knew without a

doubt that he had found Zena. The display had a single mannequin, Zena, standing

with her right arm resting on a Greek pillar. Zena was wearing a black strapless

bra with matching black panties and garter belt. Attached to the garter belt

were sheer black thigh high stockings. She was astonishingly beautiful. She

looked so real, but at the same time looked so unreal. Her eyes were fixed

straight ahead and her face looked serious and confident.

Paul quickly put his hands in his pockets to

lessen the teepee that had grown between his legs. He looked around to see if

anyone was in the store yet and saw a sales woman at the cash register in the

department. She was getting ready for the busy day ahead and their eyes

momentarily connected.

Zena had routinely taken Paul to new levels of

ecstasy over the past two months and this was another new high. It was all Paul

could do to not jump up on the display and mount the mannequin Zena right on the


"She's a pretty one isn't she?" The woman's

voice startled Paul into reality.

"Yes . . . a . . . yes she is."

"Can I help you with anything? The store really

isn't open for another fifteen minutes, but if you need something I can help."

Paul was still startled. The woman was in her late twenties and pretty herself.

Her shoulder length blonde hair looked especially golden against the black top

and skirt she was wearing. Paul noticed a name tag pinned to her chest. Her name

was Shelley. She looked wholesome and nice.

"Uh, I'm just looking. Margaret Frease let me

into the store early to . . . a . . . um . . . (Paul stammered as he thought of

an excuse) . . . a . . . inspect the mannequins to see if they need repairs."

The last words shot out of Paul's mouth with great speed.

"Well, these mannequins are brand new. If fact I

just dressed this one about ten minutes ago. They probably don't need repairs,

but feel free to look around. I'm running over to customer service and I'll be

back in a few minutes. My name is Shelley, if you need any help."

"Thank you," Paul stuttered.

With Shelley gone, Paul looked around and found

that he was all alone. He stepped up on the display and looked Zena straight in

the eye. If what Zena had told him was true, she could see what was going on and

understand every word he said. Paul caressed Zena. He gently touched her hard

mannequinized breasts and let his hand follow a trail down to her sex. It was

here that he hoped Zena could feel the sensuality of his love for her.

Paul jumped when a single bell rang signaling

that the store was now open for business. Paul said a few words in Zena's ear

and vowed to visit her on a daily basis. Reluctantly, Paul left to go home and

start looking for a summer job.







When Paul arrived home at about 10:30 a.m. he

noticed a special delivery envelope on his doorstep. It was from Davila's.

Paul's curiosity was aroused—why would Davila's be writing him? He had a

Davila's charge card but had never used it, the card was still in his desk in

its original envelope. Maybe this had something to do with Zena. Once inside his

apartment, Paul quickly opened the envelope and was totally surprised by its


Dear Paul:

We've just discovered that your account is seriously past due. The

current due on your account is $15,037.31. Bob Nikenam, our vice president

for asset recovery, will be in his office to speak with you at 11:00 a.m. on

Sunday, June 9. We suggest that you meet this appointment. We have surveyed

your financial situation and feel that you have purchased items with no

intention to pay for them and by the laws of this state you can be

prosecuted for theft. In this state a conviction of theft through a credit

card carries a minimum term of three years in prison (TAR 3455.2). Obviously

we would prefer other options and Mr. Nikenam is prepared to share those

options with you. His office is on the third floor in customer service.


Margaret Frease

Credit Supervisor

This was just like the letter Zena had received

a few days prior! Except that this letter had $15,000 worth of debt instead of

$12,000 like Zena's. How could this be? Paul's first reaction was to call them

up and give them a piece of his mind, but the letter had no phone number or even

an address--just an appointment that must be made.

Paul went to look for his Davila's credit card

in his desk. He found the envelope, but the card was gone. Paul was horrified at

the obvious conclusion. In Zena's spending spree, she must've used his card as

well. Paul had inadvertently been drawn into Zena's problem.

The rest of that day and until sleep finally

fell that night, Paul's mind pondered his situation. He wanted to feel anger

toward Zena, but he couldn't. He loved her too much, she had made too much of a

difference in his life. Would this Margaret Frease and Bob Nikenam make him into

a mannequin, just like they did Zena? Would he be forced to give up a year of

his life? Would being made into a mannequin be as erotic as it sounded when Zena

explained it to him?







Sunday morning at 10:50, Paul boarded the

elevator on the ground floor of Davila's and pressed the button for the third

floor. The elevator directory stated that the third floor had lingerie (Zena's

home), children's clothes, kitchen wares, home furnishings and customer


At the top of the elevator, Paul could see the

customer service area straight ahead. Instead of going straight in, Paul turned

around and looked back at Zena. There was something surreal about Zena. The

overhead spot lights accented the subtle curves of the tops of her breasts,

visible over the top of the curve enhancing strapless bra. No matter what Zena

had done, Paul was infatuated by even her mannequin presence.

"You must be Paul," a voice interrupted and

startled Paul, it was Margaret Frease, "it's eleven o'clock, Mr. Nikenam is

waiting for you. You can follow me."

A small "okay" was all that Paul could muster as

he followed Margaret Frease through home furnishings and into customer service.

In the back corner was an office with a brass plaque on the door, it read—









Paul didn't think too much about the odd

combination in Bob Nikenam's title. He just walked in. He was scared stiff. Bob

Nikenam was a distinguished looking man in his late 50s. He was impeccably

dressed and had an excellent physique. He was smiling and seemed friendly

despite the seriousness of the situation. Margaret Frease sat in one of the two

chairs in the office and Paul sat in the other.

"Paul, I think you know why you are here. Zena

told me about you while we were changing her into her present form. By the way,

don't you think she is stunning?"

"Y-Y-Yes, she is."

"She is very fond of you and is extremely sorry

to have put you in this predicament. She is hoping that you'll be there for her

next June when her term is up. As you must have figured out by now, Zena

extensively used your credit card as well as hers. Zena agreed to pay her debt

in our visual merchandising department much in the same way that you used to be

required to wash dishes if you couldn't pay your restaurant bill. You now have

the same option—or you can pay the debt in full today and go free. Those, along

with jail, are your only options."

Paul gulped as Bob Nikenam pulled out a contract

and continued, "we can start the process right now and have you on the display

floor tomorrow morning. All you have to do is sign on the bottom of this

contract and your debt is erased. What do you think?"

Bob Nikenam pushed things along like the best of

salesmen. He made it sound se easy. Paul thought of the year ahead without Zena

and without any additional thought reached forward and signed the contract.

"Just think," Bob stated as he shook Paul's

hand, "a year from now you'll be with Zena and you'll both be debt free and have

beautiful new bodies. This is your best decision. Now if you'll follow Margaret,

she'll prepare you for the transition."







Margaret Frease didn't say much. She was

tall—maybe even six foot. She was slender with exquisitely sculptured legs

extending out her short sleeveless summer dress. She looked to be in her early

forties and had sandy blonde hair.

They walked into a room that looked like a large

medical exam room. To the right was a round display pedestal that was originally

a black color but had been splattered with flesh colored paint. It looked like

the pedestal could be made to spin around. On top of the pedestal was a gray rod

extending straight up. About it were four heat lamps that looked like they could

roll closer to the pedestal if necessary. To the left was a medical exam table

with restraints and a large machine with a number of tubes and wires. Under the

exam table was a drain and a couple of sockets.

"Take off your clothes," commanded Margaret


Paul looked around for a dressing room. "Where?"

"Here silly, next week some cute salesclerk will

be undressing you in the middle of the store. You might as well get used to it,

so get undressed please."

Paul reluctantly stripped down to his underwear,

a standard issue pair of white briefs. Margaret Frease stared at his with no

emotion. "All the way down, underwear too."

"Get on the table, face down," commanded

Margaret Frease.

Paul did as he was told. The table allowed his

head to stick off the edge while still being supported. The woman then pumped a

hand full of creamy substance from a canister on the wall. She vigorously rubbed

the cream all over Paul's back. The cream burned, but the process felt good. It

reminded Paul of a few years ago when he went to a massage therapist to ease the

pain of a shoulder injury. Paul noticed that Margaret massaged the cream into

every crevice of his body—between his toes and even between his buns.

With the cream drying, Margaret pulled out and

razor and began to shave Paul's head. He was startled and started to object. "It

part of the process," was Margaret's stern reminder, "all hair must go." Once

his head was shaved, Margaret rubbed the same cream into his scalp. Paul tried

to start idle conversation, a number of times during the process, but to no

avail. Margaret was straight business and Paul was just a mannequin-to-be.

After a few minutes, Margaret strapped the

restraints around Paul's wrists and ankles. She then pulled out a small hose and

blasted Paul's body with extremely hot water. His pink freckled skin turned

bright red and he screamed aloud with pain.

"I'm sorry for the hot water, we need it to

activated the cream and take all the hair off your body." Margaret then loosened

the restraints and told Paul to roll over on his back. He felt his back side and

couldn't believe how smooth it felt. It was like he never had any hair.

With Paul laying on his back, Margaret finished

shaving his head and then rubbed the cream over the rest of his body. Again

every part of his body got the cream—inside his nose and ears and all around his

penis and scrotum. The later felt pretty good and Paul couldn't resist getting a

slight erection. Margaret smiled at him. Obviously she had done this before.

Before Paul could think about running away,

Margaret again put on his restraints and quickly sprayed off his hair with the

hot water. Somehow it hurt more this time.

"We're done with step 1," stated Margaret Frease

as she loosened the restraints. "I need you to roll over for step 2."

"What's step 2?" Paul timidly asked as he gently

rolled over his skin still tender from the hot spray.

"You'll see. Just lie face down."

During the process of rolling over Paul was

astonished at how smooth his body was. But he was starting to have second


Bob Nikenam came in while Margaret was

re-strapping the restraints. "How's our new mannequin coming along?"

"Quite well, we've just finished step 1 and I'll

need you to initiate step two."

"Okay" came the quick reply. Paul was laying

face down and although he could hear the two rummaging around behind him, he

couldn't tell what they were doing.

Then Bob Nikenam spoke, "Paul this next step

would be extremely painful without a shot of painkiller." Paul then felt a sharp

poke in his butt. Bob then came up to Paul's back and Paul felt a similar shot

in his neck or throat.

Almost immediately Paul felt a numbing sensation

in his rear end and his throat. He was scared and anxious. He wanted out and

tried to speak but found out he couldn't. His vocal chords had been paralyzed.

Even with his numb butt, Paul could feel that

they had worked a cold tube up his ass. It felt like it must've been a foot or

so inside him. Then Bob came to the front with a blue plastic tube and worked it

through Paul's mouth and down his throat. During this ordeal, Margaret and Bob

carried on a conversation about Davila's latest fashion line and how they

weren't sure it was the best. Bob then used tape to fix the tube to Paul's


With the tubes securely fastened in place, Bob

flipped a switch and a machine began pumping a cream colored fluid into Paul's

mouth. Paul could fell the cold fluid enter his mouth and work its way through

his body. After a moment he could feel the warmth of fluid exiting his body

through his ass. The process wrenched his body and was not without pain. Paul

couldn't see it, but the fluid leaving his body at first was a dark brownish

Shitty color.

After about ten minutes, the fluid leaving Paul

was the same cream color as the fluid entering his body. Bob turned to Margaret,

"The enema is complete, you may turn off the pump." Paul was relieved when she ¿Cuantas calorías se queman con cada ejercicio?

did. As Margaret removed the tubing Paul relaxed and hoped the worst was over.

Although Paul could feel that Margaret had removed the tubing from his ass, it

also felt like she'd left something in there. Then without warning Bob injected

him with a pinkish colored fluid on his neck. He then traveled down Paul's body

with injections on his shoulders, elbows, wrists, waist, hips, knees and ankles.

"Well Paul, we're half way there. That's the end

of step 2. We had to cleanse your body of any impurities and at the same time

we've replaced them with a substance that will soften your tissue and allow us

to mold your body into its mannequin form. The injections stiffen your joints to

allow Margaret to pose you into your mannequin position. Everything needs to set

for about an hour before we proceed to step 3. We'll turn on some music and se

you in a bit."

Margaret and Bob left Paul alone in the room

with smooth jazz playing in the background. Paul was glad that Bob was a little

more talkative than Margaret. At least he new what was going on. He dozed off to

a short sleep and awoke alarmed when he notice that he couldn't open his mouth.

The fluid had sealed it shut! He realized that he had spoken his last word for a

year and he couldn't even remember what the last word was.







To Paul the hour seemed like an eternity.

Finally Margaret came back into the room. "I'm going to stand you up. You

probably won't be able to move on your own any more." She was right.

As Margaret lifted him up, Paul could feel how

stiff and unmoving his body was. However, he could feel that his skin was not

stiff at all. It was very soft and pliable. It felt like clay.

About that time Bob Nikenam came into the room.

"How's he doing Margaret?"

"Well, I think we're ready for step 3. Can you

help me lift him onto the pedestal?"

Together they lifted Paul onto the pedestal.

Paul remembered seeing the rod sticking up from the based of the pedestal and

soon knew where it went--straight up his ass. It was to hold him in place and

keep him from falling forward or backward. Paul could also feel that some part

of the enema pump had been left in his butt, probably to act as a socket for the


Bob then went over to the side of the room out

of Paul's vision. Paul could only look straight ahead. He had lost the ability

to move his eyes back and forth. He put on two gloves that were attached to

wires and tubes coming out of a machine. Bob then began to massage Paul's naked

body with the gloves. He started on Paul's shoulders and proceeded down his

arms. After a few minutes Bob asked Margaret to take some measurements. He then

continued on his arms until he was satisfied with the measurements. Paul thought

to himself that this must be way they adjust a person's shape into the perfect

mannequin form. He really couldn't tell what they had done to his arms, however

he imagined them to be more muscular looking like some mannequins he had seen.

Following Paul's arms, Bob moved on to Paul's

hands, head, face, legs, thighs and even his feet. Throughout the process,

Margaret carefully measured Paul's new dimensions against a standard that was

their ideal shape. Paul couldn't see the process, but the gloves and attached

machine gave Bob the ability to add volume through the skin or to take it away.

He could literally sculpt Paul's body in any shape he desired.

Next came the lower half of Paul's torso. Paul

began to think of male mannequins that he had seen and remembered that they

usually weren't anatomically correct and had a lump in place of their genitals.

How would this work on him? Bob gave the gloves to Margaret and she used the

gloves to massage and manipulate Paul's genitals. Paul could feel that Margaret

was somehow pushing his genitals back and down between his legs. This felt

extremely good to Paul, but he could feel that he had no erection. His genitals

moved in whatever way Margaret placed them and stayed in that place. Margaret

stop and handed the gloves back to Bob. STOP! Paul wanted to yell. He wanted to

embrace Margaret and tell her to keep on going. But movement or speaking was no

longer in his realm.

Bob then used the gloves to finish the lower

portion of his torso and continue up to his chest. With his eyes fixed forward,

Paul still couldn't see, but it felt like Bob was adding bulk to his chest.

Again Paul thought of the mannequins he had seen that were extremely well built.

He had longed for such a body and now he could have it. Paul was liking step 3.

Some people took a year of diet and exercise to achieve a great body. He'd reach

the same goal by standing still for a year. This was great!

Bob began speaking, "Well Paul, were almost

done. Step 4 involves posing you in your final pose and giving you a mannequin

paint job. Margaret will take care of this step. I'll see you again when we take

you to the display floor tomorrow morning." Bob then left the room.

Margaret Frease then began to meticulously move

Paul's body into position. She positioned his legs so that his body leaned back

on his left leg. She moved his left arm so that his hand rested on his hip. She

even positioned his fingers. Paul's right arm was positioned so that his elbow

was bent and his hand was at shoulder height positioned as if to catch a drop of

falling rain. Margaret then tilted Paul's head to the left and turned his head

as if to look just beyond his right hand.

"There we go. You look great."

Paul wasn't so sure. He imagined himself as this

muscular macho guy posed in a position that felt a little effeminate. But there

was nothing he could do about it.

Margaret then went over to the wall and turned a

switch that extended the rod in Paul's ass. This extension lifted his body

upward so that his feet no longer touched the pedestal. It was a little painful

and Paul felt very weird.

The next thing Paul felt was the mist of a spray

gun, painting his skin. Margaret started from the bottom. The only part of his

body that Paul could see was his right hand and he was surprised at the

lightness of the paint and how thin his fingers looked. He had imagined a dark

tan color to match his macho build. Maybe this was just a primer.

Before Margaret painted Paul's head, she covered

his eyes. When she was finished she said, "that's the initial paint job. It'll

take about three hours to dry. I'll come back and do the details before I go

home this evening." Margaret left the room and she also left the covers on

Paul's eyes. He couldn't talk, move or even see.







For three hours Paul anxiously awaited

Margaret's return. She had left the covering on his eyes and he was left blind.

His imagination wandered. He hoped that he would be positioned so that he could

see Zena. But he didn't remember any men's departments on the floor with

lingerie. What would it feel like having someone else dress him? What if that

someone else was a woman? Well, he reasoned, if you have a great body you might

as well allow others the pleasure of looking at it. He imagined men looking at

his mannequin body with envy and women looking at it with lust. Most of all he

imagined the time a year from now when he and his perfect body would be reunited

with Zena and her perfect body.

Through his eye coverings Paul could tell that

the light were turned on. "How ya doin Paul?" It was Margaret. "Sorry I'm a

little late, but you'll get used to waiting, you've got a year to wait. We just

need to do your face and let everything dry overnight. You'll go on display

tomorrow morning."

For the next half hour, Margaret used various

paints to make-up Paul's face. Paul didn't quite understand the process. Why did

she need to work so much on his face? Maybe she was adding some masculine

shadows--or maybe a mustache. A mustache would be good, Paul's light complexion

never allowed him to grow much of a mustache. He'd always envied the dark haired

guys with heavy mustaches and beards.

After finishing Paul's face, Margaret moved to

his chest and added some paint to his nipples. Paul was surprised at how erotic

this felt. But he still couldn't understand why she would be painting his


Margaret then lowered the post that was up

Paul's ass. His feet now rested on the ground even though the rod was still

firmly implanted in his body. Margaret then turned off the lights and left the

room. Her leaving was only momentary as she came back into the dark room only a

few seconds later and set something against the wall in front of Paul.

"I'll see you in the morning, you sexy

mannequin." Margaret had a mischevious tone to her voice. It was the first time

that Paul had heard Margaret talk with any emotion. He was a little surprised.

The room was quiet and Paul was all alone.







It was morning. The workroom that Paul was in

had no windows, but it did have a skylight. Paul gently awoke in a dreamy early

morning place of mind as the warmth of the light from the skylight bathed his

body. The warmth felt good, he was naked after all. Momentarily he forgot his

circumstance and tried to move. He was immediately reminded of his state of

affairs and notice that the night had left him even stiffer.

Past his uplifted right hand and out of the

corner of his eye, Paul noticed something new. It was another mannequin, a

female mannequin. She was exquisitely beautiful, even though she was bald. As

Paul skanned her nude form he was reminded of Zena, the shape and proportions of

the two women were almost identical. She was leaning back on her right leg with

her left arm perched on her hip. Her left arm was bent at the elbow with her

hand lifted up to the level of the upper portion of her breasts. She was wearing

a pleasant smile and seemed to be staring at her left hand.

Paul wondered when she had been brought into the

room. Paul hadn't noticed any other mannequins when Margaret had left the night

before. Then he remembered that Margaret had brought something back into the

room after she had initially left and turned the lights out. That must've been

when she brought this women into the room. Paul briefly wondered if she, too,

was real and just serving as a mannequin to repay a debt.

Paul's eyes were so fixed to look straight ahead

that it was a strain to look so long and so intently out of the side of his

field of vision. It looked like the female mannequin had a glass plate in front

of her. The glass plate produced a shimmer that made it difficult for Paul to

fully examine her form.

Then the door opened. It was Margaret and Bob.

"She looks just great. Margaret, if you'll dust her off, I'll go get the cart

and deliver her to Shelley on the floor." Paul remembered that the girl who

helped him in lingerie when he first saw Zena as a mannequin was named Shelley.

He wondered if this girl would be put on display with Zena. He wanted to be with

Zena so bad, that he was a little envious of this mannequin. He still held out

hope that he'd be positioned so that he could see Zena from his field of vision.

In the periphery of his vision, Paul noticed

Margaret step behind the girl. This was strange because he thought Margaret had

stepped behind him. Bob must've come back into the room. Margaret began dusting

off the girl with a red rag. At the same time Paul could feel a dust cloth

rubbing across his shoulders. Then the person behind Paul came in front of his

and looked him in the face. IT WAS MARGARET!! The same Margaret that was dusting

him off was also dusting off the girl. How could this be??

After a moment in front of Paul, Margaret

stepped behind him again and repositioned his body so that it was looking

straight into the other girl's face. Paul could see Margaret behind the girl and

watched as Margaret's hand gently caressed the lower portion of the girl's

breast. Simultaneously Paul could feel Margaret's hand on the bottom of his

breast. BREAST?!!

"So how 'ya doin' today, Paula?" Margaret

interrupted with an emphasis on the final "a" of Paula.

Paul's logical mind reasoned only one

conclusion, Margaret and Bob had turned him into a FEMALE mannequin. The female

mannequin had only been a reflection of himself in the mirror. The pose that

Paul had thought to be a little feminine, actually was VERY feminine. His male

right hand that he could see in his field of vision, was actually a thin female

hand. He was now seeing what they had done to the rest of his body.

"I hope you like it Paul. You look really

great--and sexy too. Most women would die for a bod like yours." Margaret then

began explaining the situation as she continued to wipe off Paul--or

Paula's--body with the red rag. "I'm sure you're wondering why we turned you

into a woman. If you had noticed, we (or most stores for that manner) don't have

any male mannequins. They are rarely used any more. Our real need is female

mannequins and we have the ability to make your body to fit the part. And the

best part is that we've scheduled you to go on display standing next to Zena."

"How's our new girl doing?" Bob asked as he came

into the room with a cart. I'm ready to take her out to Shelley.

"She's lookin' pretty good," responded Margaret.

"But ya' never know what's going on inside their heads--probably a mixture of

shock and anger."

Bob eased Paula onto the cart and tilted her

back and out the door. Paula could see only the fluorescent lights above as she

was being wheeled through home furnishings, past the escalator and over to

lingerie. Once Paula was standing erect again she was looking past her right arm

and onto Zena's form. She remained just as she was two days ago--astonishingly

beautiful wearing a black strapless bra and black garters. The sight before

Paula made her body tingle with erotic sensations, but outside she remained

stiff and rigid.

"Mr. Nikeman, how are you this morning?" It was

Shelley. Her voice was sweet and caring. She was wearing a dark brown sleeveless


"Fine," replied Bob, taken a little off-guard.

"So this is the final mannequin I asked for. She

sure looks real. Her face, the shape of her waist and navel, even her nipples.

She looks like she was alive just a minute ago."

She was!, thought Paula.

"So tell me Bob, why DO they make mannequin

nipples look so real? No one will see them as long as she's doin' her job."

"Don't ask me," replied Bob as he and Shelley

lifted Paula up on the pedestal next to Zena. "I brought you a wig for her, here

it is."

Bob left the dark brown wig on the pedestal

while Shelley positioned Paula on the left side of the display. As Bob walked

back to his office Shelley went back into the department to find some clothes

for Paula. Across the aisle in the children's section, Paula could see Zena's

reflection on a mirror covered pillar. Next to Zena, Paula could see her own

naked form topped haphazardly with the wig.

The next thing Paula knew, Shelley was standing

right in front of her. She must've found something for her to wear. Shelley bent

down and Paula could feel herself toppling from side to side as Shelley slipped

a pair of white bikini panties over Paula's feet. As Shelley stood up, she

maneuvered the panties up Paula's legs and tightly into place around Paula's


Shelley then bent down again and slipped a

thigh-high white sheer stocking on each of her now-perfect legs. The stockings,

being new, were a little bit of a challenge--Paula could tell by the way she

continued to wobble back and forth. At one point she thought Shelley was going

to let her fall down, face forward, but Shelley caught her in the nick of time.

"Crap!" remarked Shelley, "I'd hate to have to send you for repairs on your

first day! Bob would kill me, you guys cost so much now adays."

Next Shelley stood up and wrapped something

around Paula's waist. Paula wasn't quite sure what she was doing until she got a

glimpse of herself in the mirror when Shelley stepped away. It was a white

garter belt! Shelley then knelt down and fastened the garters to the top of her

hose. As Paula again peeked at herself in the mirror, she was amazed at how

feminine and sexy she looked. She was beginning to get a little turned on by

looking at HERSELF! This was unreal.

Paula knew that the final piece of clothing was

a bra and before she knew it, Shelley slipped the bra up over Paula's arms.

Shelley then moved behind Paula and fastened the bra on Paula's back. Paula

could see in the mirror that the cups fell lose, away from her body. This was

remedied when Shelley came in front of Paula and tightened the straps so that

the cups fit very tight.

Shelly's last work was to work on Paula's face

and hair. For this step Shelley had to step up on the pedestal and look directly

into Paula's face. Paula was astonished that she could feel Shelly's warm breath

on her face and even smell the inviting scent of her perfume. It was the same

perfume that Zena sometimes wore and it drove Paula nuts! She was all mixed up.

She was highly turned on by all these female scents and yet her own form was of

a gorgeous lingerie mannequin. But no matter how turned on she was, she remained

stiff and cold on the exterior.

After Shelley was finished, she went back to her

job and Paula was left to serve her year as a mannequin to pay-off Zena's debt.

Paula had always enjoyed people watching and a mannequin had the best view of

all. Most people pretended that Paula and Zena didn't even exist, others stopped

to gaze at their beauty.

At one point two women in their late 30s or

early 40s stopped to look. One of the women was a little overweight. She looked

at Paula's body and said, "I wish I could wear something like this, Steve is

always ogling over these outfits in the Victoria's Secret catalog." Paula tried

to imagine what the woman would look like in her outfit and decided she probably

would look okay when the other, thinner, woman answered, "Honey, you'd look fine

in this outfit. I don't know what's keeping you from trying it out. Give Steve a

charge tonight, he'll love it." With that note of encouragement, the two women

past Paula and Zena and headed back into the department to try on lingerie.

Later in the day, Paula noticed that Shelley

left and Judith came on duty. Judith was an African-American in her late 40s.

She was very beautiful. Toward the end of the evening, Judith came by and

straightened up the display. In the process she primped Paula and Zena's hair

and used a soft cloth to dust off their shoulders and arms.

After a few weeks, Margaret Frease came by and

looked Paula and Zena in the eye and spoke to them as if they could answer back.

"How's it going girls? Haven' fun?" Margaret then went back and talked with


Toward the end of the shift, Judith came forward

and undressed both girls. Judith did Zena first and it excited Paula to once

again gaze on her wonderful body. When Judith undressed Paula, Paula found it to

be the most erotic experience she had experienced as a male or female. The

nylons gliding off her smooth legs, the release of her bra exposing her breast

for all passerby's—it was wonderful. Looking into the mirror, Paula wondered if

she might even be prettier than Zena.

It was another experience in people watching to

see reactions to the two nude beauties. Paula could tell that men wanted to

stare, but didn't feel comfortable. The experience was interrupted when Margaret

Frease came with a handtruck and carted Zena off toward her office. Paula didn't

know what was happening. She already missed Zena.

After fifteen or so minutes and maintenance man

came by with a cart that held an orange metal ladder. Judith came forward and

gave him a banner of some sort. The man then unfolded the ladder and proceed to

hang the banner from the ceiling. Paula could see in the mirror that it said—

elaS eiregniL launna-imeS

or Semi-Annual Lingerie Sale

The banner was red with white lettering and

draped down to the floor in the spot where Zena stood. Paula still stood naked.

"Well girl," said Judith as she surprised Paula, "we've got to get you dressed."

Judith then slipped off Paula's wig and pulled a white T-shirt over Paula's head

and arms. The arms were a little difficult since Paula was stiff and couldn't

bend. "Girl, they need to make it so we can remove your arms. You'd be a whole

lot easier to dress."

When Judith was done, Paula looked in the mirror

and found that she was a walking—or standing—advertisement. Across her chest

were red letters that read—Semi-Annual Lingerie Sale.

That evening Paula was reminded of Zena's

frustration with a security guard named Gary. Sometime in the middle of the

night. Gary (she could read his name tag) came and probed her entire body with

special emphasis on her crotch and breasts. He kissed her (yuck!!!) and even

unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock. She could feel its stiffness between

her legs and as revolting as it was, it did stimulate her. The experience left

her confused and frustrated.







About a week later, Paula saw a familiar face

out of the corner of her vision. It was Zena! Not just a mannequin Zena, but an

alive Zena—or could it be? Had it somehow been a year already?! Zena was walking

through the store with Jerry, a classmate of Paul's in engineering school. Jerry

was African-American, tall and slender. Paul had always envied Jerry, he was

good looking, athletic and had a natural charm with women. Jerry was just the

type of guy that Paul always lost his romantic interests to and as likable as

Jerry was he resented him. Zena, or the woman who looked just like Zena was

arm-in-arm with Jerry. She stopped in front of Paula and looked up and said

directly, "How ‘ya doin' girl?"

Paula was confused. How could Zena be free so

soon? Maybe a year had past quicker than he thought. But she had a hard time

believing that logic, the children's department was still displaying summer

wear. It wasn't even fall yet. The only thing Paula could believe and rely on

was that it must not have been Zena, just a woman who looked like Zena.

At the end of that day, Paula's questions were

answered. Again Paula saw Zena, this time she was walking with Margaret Frease.

They stopped and stood right in front of Paula. Margaret mumbled to Zena, "do

you think you can have Jerry here tomorrow morning?"

Zena answered in low tones, obviously not

wanting Judith to hear back at the cash register. "I think so. He talked with me

about the letter and his conversation with Bob. He's planning on a year as a

mannequin. I was lucky to find a guy who already had a lot of debt to Davila's,

he was an easy mark."

"You mean you didn't want to be a mannequin

again to lure him in? I thought you enjoyed it," Margaret chuckled.

"Just a little boring for my tastes. I think it

better suites Paul here, she—or he—was pretty boring from the start, so the

transition might have been an improvement." Zena looked up and smiled at Paula.

If a mannequin could've cried, Paula would have. Her heart was broken and she

realized that the expected year as a mannequin would now be forever. What an

awful predicament.

Margaret motioned Judith over. "Judith, tomorrow

night you can ready the display for an additional mannequin. We've been notified

that we'll have a new mannequin for you first thing the next morning. I'm sure

that you'll especially appreciate that this one is African-American. In the past

you've brought it to our attention that we've not been very diverse in our

displays and this will be a first step to make things right."

A big smile came to Judith's face. "Thank you,

for listening. It'll be nice to have our displays better represent our


Then Zena spoke, "If the lingerie sale is over

tomorrow, why don't you have them take down this banner and put the new

mannequin here with this one"

"That's a good idea, thank you. I'll do just


With that Judith went back to close out the cash

register and Zena and Margaret went back toward the offices. Paula couldn't

believe that Zena hadn't even said a word to her. She realized that she truly

was no longer human. She was only a mannequin, a display piece.







As expected a beautiful African-American female

mannequin arrived on schedule. The sale banner was down and Shelley dressed

Paula in a silky short pink slip and Jerry (or Geri) in a white lace teddy. The

two former classmates had been equally deceived by a woman who would deceive

many more. After a month they were taken overnight back to Bob Nikenam's office

where their arms, wrists, waist and a single leg were dismembered to install

metal connections so that they could be removed and reattached. This simple

operation made them easier to dress and delight Judith who had been frustrated

by their solid bodies.

It has now been five years since Zena recruited

Paul and Jerry to their new lives. They are still working out of lingerie and

Judith remains the department manager with her assistant Shelley. Zena, Bob and

Margaret has filled their quota at this particular Davila's and have moved on to

other cities in North America to ply their trade.

Zena is in her early 20s and has a liking for

Tex-Mex food. She still has her even tan and her wonderful head of dark brown

hair. She is engaging in conversation and will give you a few nights to

remember. But you should be cautioned, a relationship with Zena could change you






Giantess Stories: A Debt Reduction Plan

Acording with the Digital Millennium Copyright Act (“DMCA”), Pub. L. 105-304 If you believe that your copyrighted work is being infringed, notify our team at the email [email protected]

Top 20