Five Minute Girl, Chapter 1 (Patreon)

I haven't finished writing this story. I'm not sure how it ends, really. We might get to chapter 5 a couple months from now and then chapter 6 takes a few months to follow. My apologies if this happens. I will be interleaving these stories with Ted's Dolls releases at least through the end of January.

John was finishing episode umpteen of a program he promised himself he wouldn’t binge. When he glanced at the clock he considered watching another episode. It was after two in the morning. Though the clothing store he owned didn’t open until ten in the morning, this was the third time this week he was up so late. Summoning some willpower he turned off the television and got up.

Turning around he was shocked to see a naked woman standing behind his sofa looking past him. Suppressing a shout of surprise he blurted out, “Who are you?”

She did not answer. He realized she didn’t seem to be moving or even breathing. Turning on a light it became apparent that she or it was a mannequin. How had a mannequin gotten there? he wondered. That show is far too absorbing.

It was a fine looking mannequin, natural skin color, natural proportions. It didn’t seem to have any obvious way to take it apart. How could one dress it if it could not be taken apart, especially given the way the arms were out from its sides? He wondered.

Maybe this is a dream, he thought. He walked past the mannequin and went to bed.

The alarm sounded promptly at nine o'clock. He got up, used the bathroom, showered, and got dressed. As he left his bedroom he saw the mannequin standing right where it had been the night before. “I guess it wasn't a dream,” he said to no one. He glanced at the clock in the kitchenette and muttered about the lack of time before grabbing his wallet and keys and leaving for work.

He arrived at work around ten o'clock as he usually did. Shelly, his assistant manager and top employee had already begun prep for the day. “Sorry I'm late. I've been binging that show and I completely lose track of time.”

“Don't apologize to me. You're the boss.”

“Well, that doesn't mean I shouldn't be more responsible.”

“Sure, John.”

The day fell into a familiar rhythm and soon he returned home that evening with some take out Chinese food. This time he was not surprised to find the mannequin in his living room. After eating, he finally took the time to really look at it. The face wasn’t one he’d seen in any mannequin manufacturer's catalogs. The mannequin's proportions were also a bit more realistic than usually found in a mannequin. And the fact that it couldn’t be disassembled made him wonder how anyone could use such a mannequin.

He picked it up to remove it from the middle of his living room, putting it in a corner facing the living room. Soon, he was eating dinner and continuing his show, taking breaks only to use the bathroom and to throw away the trash dinner created. This night, he managed to drag himself away from the television by one o'clock in the morning.

* * *

The next afternoon at work he was in his office when Shelly knocked on his open door frame. “Yes?”

“John, do you want me to change the dummy in the window? We just got the nice blue dress in that might look good in the window.”

He shook his head and said, “Oh, wait. Did I tell you about the new mannequin?”

“No.”

“The strangest thing. I was watching my show and when I was ready for bed there was a mannequin behind me in my living room.”

“What?”

“I know. It's a great looking mannequin. I keep forgetting to bring it in.”

“Should I wait until you bring the new one in?”

“Yeah. No reason to wrestle with those things twice trying to get them dressed.”

He returned home that evening with some take out and a plan. He spent a few hours on the web trying to find what company manufactured this kind of mannequin. While searching it for any kind manufacturing markings, serial or product numbers, anything that would give him a clue, he noticed the hair on its head was real and attached to the head individually.

Who would pay for such detailed hair on a mannequin? As he pondered this, his hand brushed across a small square bump where the top of its neck met the hairline. Spreading the hair away from the top of its neck, he discovered a silver colored, squarish, unlabeled push button, about the size of a dime. He could not think of a reason not to press the button. So, he did.

The silver button glowed brightly and vanished. In an instant, the figure was no longer plastic. In its place stood a woman, living, breathing, and unclothed. “Where am I?” She asked.

“You're in my apartment, Miss...?”

She nonchalantly reached over to shake his hand, only then realizing she was naked. Smoothly, she turned sideways, cutting off his view of her crotch and covered her lovely breasts with her left forearm. “I'm Erica Pullman.” She looked around the apartment. “Nice place you have here. You are?”

He was gentlemanly enough to keep focused on her face, “I'm John Herrick and I have no idea what you are doing in my apartment. Do you?”

“Do you have anything to cover me up with?”

He went over to a closet close to the bathroom and pulled out a couple fluffy towels and handed them to her. He turned around, “Have a seat on the sofa.”

“Thanks,” she replied. After a few seconds she added, “You can join me now.”

He turn to find her wrapped in the one towel, with the second one laid across the sofa. He sat down and asked, “How did you end up in my apartment?”

“I don't know if I'll have time to tell you before something else strange happens.”

“I have time.”

She smiled, “Well, the short answer is a mischievous genie interpreted my wishes incorrectly.”

Crazy dangerous or crazy delusional, he wondered. He decided to play along. “They tend to do that, from what I've heard. Though, I wasn't aware they actually existed.”

“Well, I'm fairly sure I can confirm their existence. When I arrived I was a mannequin, wasn't I?”

“Well, yes,” he replied, intrigued by the possibility that genies might really exist. Mannequins don’t generally come to life.

“Well, that was my first wish. I wished I could turn into a mannequin and be turned back to normal so I could dress myself. See the problem?”

“No, you turned back to normal when I pressed that button on your neck.”

“Yes, but I wanted it to be so I could turn myself back to--” She did not finish her thought as in an instant the flesh and blood woman was replaced by a nearly identical replica. She sat immobilized on his sofa, once again made of plastic: a mannequin.

He waved his hand in front of her face and felt foolish for doing so. He leaned forward and pushed the button on her neck.

After turning back to flesh, she sighed, “See? You can turn me back to flesh. I can't. I wanted to have a bit more control over when I'm a mannequin. It seems I'm destined to be at my owner's mercy.”

“Owner? Are you calling me your owner?”

“I can't really do much for myself since I turn into a mannequin five minutes after I’m restored to flesh. My second wish was that I would attract clientele to the shop I was in when I modeled the clothing there. I thought with my first wish I could command a decent salary from a high end store just working weekends. But apparently I can only get five minute breaks.”

“None of that explains how you ended up here?”

“Oh, to prevent total abuse, my final wish was to have the ability to leave my current employer and be taken to a random women's clothing store owner who would be interested in having a living mannequin for his or her store front who had not already been my owner. My last employer was such an ass. She would never change my clothes. I would be dressed up in the most expensive thing in the shop and stand in the most boring poses in her window. When they ran out of that design, she'd put me in the next most expensive thing and repeat. The second time she did that I had been there over a year and the whole time had been spent in a window with dirty glass and yellow lights. When the second most expensive thing finally sold out I had my chance to exercise my third wish.” She looked John up and down, “You do own a clothing store, right?”

“Yes, it’s been my family’s store for forty years or so. I took it over from Mom a few years ago. I can see how you could be useful in creating some unusual displays since you have a full range of human motion unlike most mannequins. But, after that story...” He stopped as she turned into a mannequin again.

“Are you aware as a mannequin?” he asked before pushing the button.

“Yes, I'm normally fully aware. When I change owners I become disoriented. I was unaware until you became my owner. That's why I was surprised I was somewhere else when you first pushed the button.”

“So each button push only lasts five minutes.”

“Yes,” she sighed. “I'm the five minute girl.” After a short awkward pause, she added, “So, here we are.”

“Yes, we are.” John said, “I was planning to take you, the mannequin, to the shop tomorrow. I doubt you find spending all day here in my apartment at all interesting. I'm not sure what to do with you now.”

“Can we just watch TV or something?” She crossed her legs and sat back on the sofa pointing toward the television. “That black, flat panel is a television, right? I haven't watched anything in ages.” She settled back in the chair.

“Okay,” he replied hesitantly. As she turned into a mannequin, he added, “That wasn't five minutes was it?” Then he realized what happened, “Oh, right. You can turn yourself into a mannequin any time.”

He continued the show he had been watching the night before. “I guess since you turned yourself into a mannequin you don't care what we watch.” He pressed the button and she nodded.

“Yes. You can put anything on. I haven't watch TV in ages.” She leaned against him and transformed back into a mannequin. He had not shared his couch in a while.

His mind wandered as the show played. If she had not watched anything in ages she probably was not up to date on this show. But, being a mannequin, if she had questions, she could not ask them.

After a couple episodes, he became tired. When the third episode ended he stopped the show. “I'm going to bed.” He said as he pushed her button.

“Okay. That was an interesting show. I think I get who everyone is now. Thanks for describing how they're all related when they each first appeared.”

“Not many storefronts face televisions, do they?”

“No, but I am very good at making up stories about the people who walk by in front of me.” She laughed.

“I'd love to hear them sometimes.” John said, though he wasn't sure why. “Do you sleep? I suppose you don't need a pillow.”

“No, sometimes I don't notice the passing of time. But, it never really feels like sleep.”

“You could watch the show I was watching from the beginning if you like.”

“It's on?”

“On? No, but I can restart the series from the beginning.” I went through the menus and started the series with its first episode.

“Even TV has changed all these years. That's cool. Thanks.” She said as she settled down in the sofa and transformed herself into a mannequin.

“Goodnight,” he said. He put the remote down within reach before realizing how silly that was and went to bed.

* * *

In the morning, the living room was just as he had left it. A mannequin wrapped in a towel was sitting on his sofa watching a streaming video. He grabbed a cup of coffee before pushing her button.

She turned, “Can I have a sip? I haven't had coffee in ages.”

“I can make you your own.”

“I won't finish it in five minutes and it'll probably end up getting cold. I just want a taste.”

“How about you put this on so you don't have to wrap yourself in that blanket?” He handed her an oversized T-shirt. She nonchalantly dropped the blanket and pulled the shirt over her head. It hung down to mid-thigh and was only stretched a bit at her top and hips. She reached for the cup and took a sip, “Mmmm.”

“I was thinking,” he began. “I don't have anywhere to put you in the store today. I could leave you here in front of the TV and then you could start at the shop tomorrow.”

“Really?” She asked. “This show is so good. I should be caught up by the time you get home.”

“And it will give me a chance to pick up some clothes for you. Not that women's sizes mean anything, but what are your sizes?”

“My dress size averages around 2. I wear size 6 shoes. And my bra size is 33B if you can find it. 34B will work otherwise.”

“Height?”

“Five foot, eight inches. When I tried runway modeling they always complained I was too short.”

“Are you sure you don't want anything else before I leave?”

“I'm good,” she replied. She turned back toward the television, resumed the show she was watching, and turned herself into a mannequin.

“Okay, see you later,” he said, feeling only a little silly when she did not react.