de milo

By DX

Copyrighted 3/2008, 5/2024,  All rights reserved. Story may not be used without Author's written consent.

 

Sunlight splayed strews of diamonds across the sapphire water as rainbows in spray caressed her soft, gold tanned cheeks. She finished her yoga routine, feeling the energy flow, and her body as supple as a wave. With a sigh, her smile easy and comfortable, she scanned the horizon of ocean that surrounded her.

Nothing but sea.

She checked her sails. They were full and fat with wind. She gauged they're doing an easy fourteen knots. Steady as she goes.

Just then, the sun slid across the bow as they changed course. Her nose crinkled as she wondered why. As she looked back to the quarterdeck, she noticed First Mate William, a dodgy, crusty sailor make his way up.

"Bit of a storm brewing, Miss Venus." He said, pulling slack from the forward jib. "Captain put in a course change to stay clear of it." Smoothly and efficiently, he began coiling the line. "Captain also wanted you to know we have a signal.

Venus acknowledged him a small sneer, watching his strong arms work, his muscles playing in the golden light, before rolling over and powering up her lap-top. While there was very little that made her happier than sailing around the Mediterranean, there were bills to pay. In the olden days, she would have ordered her crew to board some fat merchant vessel and plunder it for anything shiny before sending it to Davy Jones' locker with all hands aboard, but she was a modern pirate, and her tools were not flintlocks and cutlasses, but a computer and a cell phone.

On her message board, a note from a former client popped up, urgent.

Venus stalled a brief moment until William made his way aft and out of ear shot before picking up her phone. The client had paid well for her to steal a computer chip from a rival company. Venus smiled inwardly at the memory as she dialed her cell. It had been a challenging caper. The fortress of the Chasti-Permalock company proved to be formidable, but like every castle in history, it had a weakness. Venus first tracked a saleswoman, seduced her, discovered how to reprogram the devices, then locked the woman in a suitcase and buried her alive in a land fill, the woman's own nanites in her blood keeping her healthy in her tiny new tomb. 

Venus then took the saleswoman's sample devices, reprogrammed them, then tracked another employee with a high security access, drugged her, locked the newly reprogrammed devices on her giving her an hour to procure the chip she wanted or the devices would go into permanent lock down.

The woman complied and handed over the chip, and good to her word, Venus provided the woman the key, but in a strange, ironic twist, in the final seconds, the woman's boyfriend, the original designer of the chip, thinking the whole thing a game, interrupted the woman just as she was about to use the key to free herself.

Then the clock ran out.

Venus smirked. It couldn't have worked out better. The woman was gagged, unable to tell anyone what had happened because nanites ate away the part of her brain that allowed her to communicate and further more, they sexually stimulated her to the brink of orgasm, but never let her have one. Venus thought the woman would have gone insane, but the nanites kept her healthy both mentally and physically. She was aware of what was happening but unable to do anything about it.

Venus imagined the girl locked away in a soft padded room wrapped up in a straight jacket. The image of the poor girl writhing around in continual near orgasm made Venus almost laugh out loud.

"Hello? Miss Venus?" A man answered the phone. "This is Mr. Green."

"Speak." She purred. "What's the job and what's the pay?"

"Uh, yes, about that. It's in reference to the last job." His voice trembled nervously. "Did you break the seal?"

A dark cloud of anger past over her face. "Are you questioning my integrity?" She asked, her eyes thinning to slits. She tried to second guess their game. They had already paid her in full. Perhaps they were looking for a discount on the next job. "The agreement was for the seals to be intact and that's what you got." She struggled to keep her voice even. "Now stop wasting my time! Do you have a job or not?"

"Well, we don't have anything for you right now, but,"

She clicked off the phone in a huff, her nose crinkling. They had tripled her pay to insure the seals would remain un-broken. The technology of nanites that Chasti-Permalock held so close in secret was worth a king's ransom to any nation.

Venus calmed herself. The replacement seals were perfect copies. There was no way they could have known she had broken the seals.

So why risk contacting her?

She turned to her laptop, powering up the web cam.

On the screen, she peered at the flickering lights and monitors of Eva's workshop, a bird's nest of wire and cobbled computer parts.

There was no Eva.

Eva was the penultimate hacker. An agoraphobe, Eva was always at her station, searching for marks and targets for Venus to exploit. She wore rubber bloomers with urine collection bags to minimize trips to the bathroom even though no space in her twelve by twelve foot apartment was outside the scope of her reach and wheeled office chair. Venus had never even seen her walk and yet, her chair was mysteriously empty. "Eva!" Venus called. "Where are you?"

"Venus?" A dry hiss sounded off camera. "Venus! Where are you?"

"In the middle of the ocean. Where are you?"

Venus could hear something heavy slide across the hard wood floor, followed by a hard thump. She heard a second, then a third.

Venus held her breath as Eva's face slid into view.

Eva had never been an attractive woman. She was fat, grotesquely so, with pimples plaguing her face well into adulthood. Her eyes were small, round and too close together and although she was only thirty five, whenever the pizza boy delivered, he would always make mention that she could take advantage of the senior citizen discount.

Venus could see that Eva's ratty sweater hung off her tiny frame. Her breasts, formally flat pancakes hanging from her chest, were full, round and perky. Eva was having trouble moving, and seemed unable to sit. She reached out with stiff hands and adjusted the camera, tilting it up.

Half of Eva's face was black, shiny stone.

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Copyrighted 3/2008, 5/2024,  All rights reserved. Story may not be used without Author's written consent.

Magic Fashion

By DX

Copyrighted, 4/2015, 2018, 12/2023 all rights reserved.

Eva’s eyes lit up as she held her breath.  Nervously, she watched the men raise the sign with her name boldly, delicately, emblazoned, above the wide and expensive window of her new storefront.  

Loans and debt allowed her to buy the old boutique and she wasted no time clearing it out.  Her cheeks dimpled as she set her lips and hauled crate after crate of dry-rotted fabric from the basement and tossed them out.  She found several sewing machines, embossers and embroidery, and pulled them apart.  She smelled of oil and age as she he gently chased out the spiders and dust, and refurbished the machines to go back into loyal service. 

She spackled, painted walls, waxed floors, and installed new light fixtures to be ready for her approaching opening day.

With the last of her funds she ordered some mannequins; nouveau, sleek and blank, they would be perfect for her high-tech fashions.  Faceless, shapeless, they were merely fancy hangers to show off her talent.

With one day to go, she stood at the door with a crumpled letter in her hand.

Her mannequins were on back-order.

Still defiant, she looked around slowly.  Finished outfits, haberdashery, and accessories surrounded her with nothing but boring shelves to display them on.  Her big, brown eyes blinked back a budding tear as she again descended into the basement. 

In the back corner, piled unceremoniously in an aged crate, were a collection of old mannequins.  She had dismissed them before for not being the cutting edge look she wanted, but as she pulled them out and tried to assemble a whole one, she figured she could paint them, a flat black perhaps, and they would do in a pinch.

They were busted, and cracked.  Their paint was peeling away, and mice nests filled their hollow spaces, but Eva bit back her frustration and dug into the pile.  Her hopes shrank as she only found more broken arms, legs and bodies.

Determined, she cleared the pile away.

Eyes peered back at her, green and wet, like a jungle leaf in the rain.  Shrouded in plastic, Eva lifted up the head and torso and found the arms and legs beneath.  The word, Lynnette, was embossed on the shoulder.  Her make up was from the 50’s.  Her lipstick was a coppery red, which highlighted her full lips.  Her eyes peered seductively beneath long, long black lashes, her eye-shadow was a deep burgundy.

She was bald.  Eva couldn’t find the wig, but she didn’t care as she carried the parts upstairs and assembled her.  With a sponge and soapy water, Eva bathed Lynnette and cleaned off the oily residue of dirty mouse prints to get the mannequin ready for paint.

As the sponge washed her face, Lynnette’s eyes flashed at her prettily, and Eva’s plan of spray-painting her into an anonymous model flittered out of her head.

Lynnette was beautiful.

Eva set her in the window and then spent the rest of the night putting together her paramilitary ensemble: slick midnight grey with epaulets and pocket flaps, and a nipped waist short coat that enhanced Lynnette’s perfect breasts, a revealing short skirt with cargo-pockets, and high heeled, knee length, military boots.  

As the night sky tinted with morning blue, Eva dressed Lynnette and gently slid the garments on.  Then, she laced the boots up on the mannequin’s incredibly small feet.  Last, she clasped a cargo-belt around Lynnette’s hips, slung at an angle like a gunslinger, and finished with a small leather pouch with brass enclosure, perfect for a phone and keys. 

Her eyes blinked swollen and tired as she beheld Lynnette.  Being bald, only added to her sharp, military presence.  

Eva put Lynnette’s cap on the doll’s head and the outfit was done.

She tried to stifle a yawn and failed.  As she made her way upstairs she glanced back.  Lynnette’s eyes twinkled in the early morning light.

Eva dismissed it as tiredness.

When she awoke she saw the shadows had slid across her room.  The clock told her she still had four hours to go before the opening, so she plopped back down.

And the knock came again.

She roused quickly and went down stairs.  There was a woman at the door peering through the glass, rapping incessantly.

“I’m sorry,”  Eva answered sleepily,  “we’re not open yet.”

The woman pointed at Lynnette.  “How much?  I’ll take it!”

Eva blinked.  She was still asleep, she must be.  She blearily opened the door and the woman marched in and peered at Lynnette from another angle.  She flicked her fingers and her credit card magically appeared.  “You do alterations?  I’d have the bosom let out.”

Eva hadn’t even considered a price, and as her mouth sagged open to speak, another woman blew into the shop.  “Twelve hundred!”  She brandished her credit card like a cross against vampires.

“She was first.”  Eva replied, astonished.

“Then when can I have one made?”  The second insisted.

Eva feebly pointed to a clear area.  “I’ll get your measurements.”  She then looked to the first.  “Give me a few moments and I’ll have you try it on.”

While the women discussed where they would be wearing their outfit to avoid being at the same event, Eva, still foggy from lack of sleep, stepped up into the window and undressed Lynnette.  As she did, she noted the tiny flecks of white paint in the mannequin’s eyes that gave the illusion of a bit of glint, a bit of life.  She wondered how she didn’t notice them before.

Once the women were gone, Eva quickly put together one of her designs and dressed Lynnette in time for the opening.  Local politicians, some freelance reporters, and a handful of movers and shakers showed up to get their picture taken at a ribbon cutting ceremony of a young girl and her new shop full of ambition.

And the dress Lynnette wore sold for two thousand dollars.

The sewing machine clattered like a machine gun as Eva put together another dress, a deep blue formal gown, so Lynnette wasn’t naked.  Sliding it up over Lynnette’s hips, Eva felt the hard plastic press against her as she braced the mannequin to keep it steady.

Zipping it up, Eva brushed her hand against Lynnette’s midriff to smooth out the dress and check the fit.  Satisfied, she patted Lynnette’s butt and dashed out of the store to buy a wig.  When she came back, a woman was outside the shop waiting to buy Lynnette’s dress.

Dress after dress, everything sold on Lynnette.  Even when Eva’s blank mannequins arrived, Lynnette, and her new copper red hair, sold and sold and sold.

One night, as Eva put the final touches on Lynnette’s outfit, a safari one piece with rolled up sleeves and trousers made from sweat-wicking micro-fiber, she leaned in to adjust Eva’s copper wire hair.

Lynnette’s head turned and kissed her.

Soft, warm, wet, Eva was stunned paralyzed, surely dreaming.  She must have fallen asleep at her sewing machine.  She didn’t fight as she felt Lynnette’s arms sweep up and embrace her, and pull her into a wonderful kiss.

Lynnette kissed her again.  As they parted, she flashed mirthful eyes at Eva and winked.  Eva watched her step away and look around in wonder.  She watched Lynnette touching herself, poking her soft, real flesh, cupping her boobs and jiggling them, amazed at the movement.

Shocked, Eva watched her in stunned silence.  She was so beautiful, and… alive!  Sparking to action, Eva decided to go to her and show her around the shop…

She couldn’t move!

Panic seeped into her consciousness as she tried to imagine what was going on.  She felt her skin had become plastic and her body as still as stone.

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Copyrighted 3/2024, all rights reserved. May not be reproduced without author permission.
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