Brad climbed out of bed and tried to discern if what he had experienced was a dream or some kind of strange transformation, created by the mysterious old woman he’d helped across the street. His chest felt kind of crushed--as if it had actually been sat on. And his face… His nose hurt as if someone had sat on his face.
He got dressed and thought he’s better attend classes that day. An active fantasy life was one thing, but this was the real world, a world that is un-forgiving to someone without a job, a good job that could be gained by education. He arrived at the college early and decided he needed some more coffee to get his mind started. He sat alone in the student center, sipping coffee and day dreaming about how his life would change if he had been actually transformed into a mannequin, an object without perceived feelings-- as in the dream, if it was a dream-- and sat on by women and girls.
He was startled when a girl who was standing behind him suddenly spoke.
“Excuse me,” she said.
Brad turned around, and his eyes widened in shock. It was her! It was the girl in the dream--if it was a dream--who had sat on his face when he was a mannequin. She was stunningly beautiful, about five foot six with shoulder length blonde hair and brown eyes. She was wearing a tight T-shirt and a denim mini-skirt.
“May I?” She motioned to sit down at his table.
“Oh… um… sure,” said Brad.
The girl sat down, and her skirt rode up to expose tanned thighs.
“We’ve never met before, have we?” said the girl.
“I don’t think so,” said Brad.
“Good,” said the girl. I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone I know… I’m Jenna.”
“Hi, Jenna,” said Brad. “I’m Brad.”
“Brad?” said the girl. “ That’s interesting. I met someone named Brad yesterday. Well… He wasn’t a real person. He was a mannequin named Brad.”
The words mannequin and his name, Brad, perked his curiosity.
“Yes,” said Jenna. “And you’ll never guess what I did with him.”
“What was that?” asked Brad.
Jenna hesitated, as if deciding to say something. “Well,” she continued. “That mannequin named Brad… I sat on him… I sat on his face.” Her face could stay sober for only a moment, and then she giggled.
“Really?” said Brad, glancing down at the chair seat she had planted her butt on and at her casually crossed tanned legs. He could feel it. He could feel her sitting on his face. It wasn’t a dream. It was real! He had been transformed into a mannequin and sat on by this girl, and she had no idea she was talking to him as a person now.
Playing dumb, Brad said,” Why would you sit on a mannequin?”
“Practice,” said the girl. “I’ll explain… if I can.” She settled back in her chair and it squeaked. Brad could nearly feel her weight on his head, as it had been yesterday.
“College is expensive, isn’t it,” she said. “It’s hard to afford tuition, books, and all that stuff.”
“I agree,” said Brad.
“Would you like to make some extra money?” she asked.
This was incredible. Brad knew what she was going to say. She had told Melissa she would try to find someone who would let her sit on him.
“You look like a tough guy,” said Jenna. “Are you?.. Are you tough?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” said Brad, still acting dumb.
“What’s your pain tolerance?” asked the girl. “Would you like to earn some extra money?.. Even if I hurt you?… Even if I-- you know-- humiliated you?”
“What did you have in mind?” asked Brad.
“What if someone paid you to let me use you as a seat?” asked Jenna.
“A seat?”
“Yep,” she continued. “A seat… and I’d sit on you.”
Brad was thankful his lap was under the table and out of her sight. He was starting to sprout a woody, but he didn’t want to appear too anxious.
“Why?” asked Brad. “Why would someone pay me… to let you sit on me?”
“I’ll get to that,” said Jenna. “But there’s a catch,” she paused a few moments. “I’d sit on your face.” She pursed her lips, as if expecting a negative answer from him.
Brad grinned. “That doesn’t sound too bad.”
Jenna’s eyes narrowed with disbelief. “You wouldn’t care if I hurt you? When I sat down on you, I’d put all my weight-- I weigh one twenty five-- on your head… I wouldn’t sit on you long enough to suffocate you, but I might squish you.”
“I’d do it,” said Brad. “I’d do it for money. But why me? Out of thousands of college guys around here, why are you asking… me?”
“I don’t know,” said Jenna. “I was looking around the student center, trying to get up the nerve to ask someone when I saw you. It was a strange feeling--- like fate or something.”
“Okay,” said Brad. “But who is this woman who’s going to pay me to be your seat? And why?”
“Her name is Melissa. She produces video clips… fetish clips of women dominating men by using them as a human seat and sitting on them.”
“Have you done this before?” Asked Brad.
“Oh, no,” said Jenna. “This would be my first time I’ve sat on a man’s face… not a live man… I sat on that mannequin’s face, though. And it was kind of fun. But… of course… I didn’t have to worry about hurting him.”
“Hmmm,” said Brad, trying not to appear too anxious. “Would you be sitting on my face in the nude?”
Her face flushed. “I wouldn’t do… that. I’d probably be wearing a skirt or something. But Melissa wants me to pretend like you’re my human seat, so I’d probably let my skirt go over your face when I sat on you… like this…” She demonstrated by flipping the rear hem of her skirt over the chair seat and sitting back down on it.
“I’ll do it,” said Brad.
“You will?” said the girl, incredulously. “You won’t care if I plop my… butt… right on your face?”
“Nope,” said Brad. “If it’s for the movie.” He thought of the old woman. She had not only transformed him into a mannequin, she had also arranged this meeting with the girl.
“Good,” said Jenna. “I’ll get a hold of Melissa and tell her I found a human seat for some videos.” Brad gave her his phone number. “Call me when you’re ready,” he told her.
Several days later he got a call from Melissa. He was to arrive at her house at eight o’clock that evening. He was filled with excitement. Jenna had already sat on him as a mannequin, and now she was about to sit on his face as a live person. He wondered how it would be different.
Melissa greeted him at the front door. She was wearing a tan mini-skirt--no nylons covering her tanned thighs-- and high heel sandals. He, again, marveled at her shapely legs and ample butt.
“Have you had any acting experience?” she asked.
“None at all,” said Brad.
“Well,” said Melissa. “You won’t have to do much acting. Basically, all you’ll do is lay down on a couch or put your head on a chair seat so Jenna can sit on you. Her facial expressions and voice tone were business like. Then she smiled. “I might even sit on you myself.” Then Melissa produced a brief case and pulled out some papers. “This is a legal disclaimer,” she told him. “It states that I will not be held responsible for injuries that may be sustained in the making of my video. I need you to sign it.” Then she showed him another form. “And this form states that you are at least eighteen years old.”
Brad signed the papers and Melissa escorted him to her basement studio. Jenna was already down there. She looked stunning. She was dressed in a plaid mini-skirt which started four or five inches above her knees. She also was wearing high heel sandals with white ankle socks. Brad quickly noted that there were two couches in the studio. On one of the couches was a mannequin! It lay there motionless, it’s eyes staring into space.
“We’ll do some practice on the mannequin, first,” said Melissa. “Jenna has already studied the script. She knows what to do.”
Brad stood there, waiting for instructions, when, suddenly, he heard the old woman’s voice in his mind say, “Transform.”
“Transform?” he thought to himself.
As soon as he thought the word transform, he felt himself whirling. His body was stiff and immobile. He was lying on the couch. He was the mannequin! He looked over at himself, standing there and looking at himself as a mannequin. “Incredible!” he thought. He was actually in two places at the same time. He was himself, a human being, and he was also the mannequin!
Jenna walked over to him. She was brushing her hair. She looked down at him, as a mannequin, and said, “I’m going to use you for my seat… I’m going to sit on you… You’re my slave… I can do anything I want to you, and I’m going to sit on your face.” Her knees bent and her skirt went up and over his face as her white panty clad butt descended to it. She sat down on his mannequin face, her weight on top of him forcing the couch down lower. Then she crossed her legs. “You make a comfy seat,” she told him, “…just something for me to sit on.”
Brad has an impulse to say to himself transform. As soon as he thought the word, he found himself standing upright, looking at Jenna sitting on the mannequin’s face. Then he thought the word transform, again. He was now the mannequin Jenna was still sitting on.
“Wow! Awesome!” thought Brad. His face was mashed under her butt, and he peered under the thigh that was crossed over the other, the underlining of her plaid skirt draped over them.
“That’s great,” said Melissa. “Just like that. He is your slave and you can sit on him.” Then she said, “Brad… It’s your turn now.” Jenna got up off his mannequin face. “Transform,” he said to himself. He was now himself, a live person. Melissa told him to assume the same position as the mannequin on the couch. He laid down on the other couch.
“Sit on his face, Jenna, just like you sat on the mannequin.
“Oh,” said Jenna, a worried expression on her face. “I’m afraid I’ll hurt him if I sat on him like I sat on that mannequin.”
“It’s okay,” Brad assured her.
“Are you sure?” said Melissa.
“Yes,” said Brad, a bravado in his voice. “Go ahead and sit on me. I can take it.”
“Okay,” said Jenna. “Don’t blame me if I crush you.” She stood a few moments, rehearsing the dialogue she was supposed to say. The she approached the couch. She looked down at him.
“I’m going to use you for my seat,” she told him. “I’m going to use you for seat and sit on you. You’re my slave and I can do anything I want to you… I’m going to sit on your face.” She sat down on his upturned face, the same way she had sat on him as a mannequin. “You make a comfy seat,” she told him. “… just something for me to sit on.”
Brad felt her weight on top of his face, as it was when he was a mannequin. The striking difference was, though, that he couldn’t breathe. He was smothering under her warm butt.
“How’s this, Melissa?” she asked, crossing her legs. “Am I crushing you?” she asked Brad, not thinking he was unable to respond with her butt covering his face. Even though his lungs were starving for air, he loved the feeling of her sitting full weight on his face.
“How long should I sit on him?” she asked Melissa.
“Not too long at a time,” said Melissa. “He can’t breathe.”
“Oh, my goodness!” Jenna exclaimed, getting up off his face. “I forgot I was smothering you.”
“Transform,” Brad said to himself, and he quickly turned back into the mannequin. As a mannequin, he looked over at his real self, lying on the couch.
Jenna spoke to his real self. “I wish you were this mannequin so I could really use you for a seat,” She looked down at him as a mannequin and sat down on his mannequin face. As he lay there, crushed beneath her butt, he became aware of the striking difference between himself as a live person and himself as a mannequin. When Jenna sat on his face as a live person she displayed a perceptible caution. Rightly so, she was concerned about hurting him. But when she sat on his face as a mannequin, she just plopped down nonchalantly on his face. That was what it felt like being used as a real seat by a girl or woman… Sitting on his face as a live person was an act. Sitting on his face as a mannequin was as natural to her as sitting on any other inanimate object. He wondered if the two entirely different ways of relating to him would eventually come together, that she would become desensitized to using him as a seat when he was a live person with the same absence of concern for his discomfort she displayed towards him as an inanimate mannequin.
It soon became obvious to him that that is what Melissa was trying to achieve with a mannequin. She wanted Jenna to learn to simply sit on his face as a live person with the same disconnect from his humanness as she would sitting on a mannequin.
Jenna continued to sit on his mannequin face when Brad decided to try something. He thought the word: transform. Immediately, he was his live self looking at Jenna sitting on the mannequin. He wanted to discover just how naturally dominating Melissa was and asked her: “Melissa, do you ever sit on a slaves’ face yourself?
Melissa smiled at him. “Do you want me to sit on your face?”
“Well,” said Brad, “If it would help Jenna be more comfortable with it.”
Melissa approached the couch where he lay. “I must warn you,” she said. “When I use a man for a seat… I… just… sit on him.”
Jenna watched intently as she continued to sit on the mannequin’s face. Melissa told her, “I’ll show you how it’s done.” She stood next to the couch where his head was. He peered upwards at her tanned thighs and at the underling of her tan mini-skirt, a view that allowed him to see her butt, slightly covered by pink panty material.
“When I use a man as a seat,” she told Jenna. “I simply sit on him.” Her knees bent and rounded butt began to descend to his face, “Like this.”
Melissa sat down heavily upon his face, forcing his head deeper into the couch. “You see, Jenna, I really don’t care if I hurt him. He’s being paid to be a seat, so this is how I sat on him.” She shifted her butt a little, making herself comfortable atop his face, and crossed her legs. “Do you think you could sit on him like this?”
“Don’t you care if you squish him?” said Jenna.
“No,” replied Melissa. “I love squishing him under my butt. I’ve been using men as a seat since I was in college, as you are.”
“Really?” said Jenna. “And they let you do that to them?”
Melissa continued to casually torture his face, sitting full weight on it, while she spoke to Jenna. “Some men are submissive,” she told her. “They love being dominated by women… even to the point where I can use them as a human seat and sit on um.”
“Hmmm,” said Jenna. “Do you think that Brad likes it when you sit on his face?”
“I have a feeling he does,” said Melissa. She arose part way up from his face, her lovely rounded butt looming above him and shifted her hips to one side. Looking down at him she said, “Do you Brad? Do you like being my seat?”
Brad deliberately paused a few moments before answering. He was enjoying the view of her splendid butt hovering over him, and of her smooth thighs, closed and forming a V shape which rounded her butt into an erotically menacing fleshy orb, hovering above him.
“Actually… Yes,” her replied.
“I thought so,” said Melissa. “I know a natural when I see one.” She sat back down on his face, overpowering it with her butt and weight.
“But he can’t breathe,” said Jenna.
“Yes… of course,” said Melissa. “Isn’t is wonderful… His life is in my hands… I could sit on his face, like this, and smother him to death, if I wanted to.”
“Oh!” said Jenna. “Don’t do that.”
“Don’t worry,” said Melissa. “I won’t kill him… but I love the idea that I could if I wanted to.” She got up off his face and he gasped for air. He looked at Jenna, still seated on the mannequin’s face.
Melissa asked her, “Want to try it again?’
“Okay,” said Jenna, getting up from the mannequin. She stepped up to him, her high heel sandals clumping on the floor, a reminder to him that she, indeed, had weight-- sexily as it was in such an appealing way-- and could hurt him with it. That was exactly what he loved. He loved the contrast between soft femininity and actual human weight with the power to cause him discomfort.
Jenna looked down at him and said, “If you like being used as a seat and sat on… I’ll… really… Sit on you.” She flipped the back her skirt up over his head and sat down heavily on his face. Then she said, “ I wish I could flatten you out a bit.” She arose a few inches above his face and then slammed her butt back down on it several times. His head and nose hurt from the relentless assault from her weight. He wondered if she had broken his nose. But, curiously, it didn’t seem to matter to Jenna now. It appeared as if she was intent on using him exactly the same as she’d use a seat, sitting full weight on his face without regard for his pain and discomfort. She crossed her legs and spoke to Melissa.
“I think I’m getting used to this, Melissa.”
“It’s the power, isn’t it,” said Melissa.
“Um… Yes… the power… I love the idea that I can use him as a seat, a nothing, and sit my butt on him.”
Brad heard the clump clump of Melissa’s high heel sandals nearing the couch. Suddenly, he felt additional weight come down on his chest and stomach. Melissa had sat down on him, along side Jenna. Their combined weight forced the couch down farther. Brad lay crushed under both of them, torturing his body with their weight, covering a good share of his body with their warm butts. It felt the same way it had back at the shop when he was a mannequin, when Melissa and her shopkeeper woman friend had both sat on him. Again, though, the striking exception to this experience was that he couldn’t breathe. As a real person he was smothering under Jenna’s butt.
“Transform,” he said to himself and was zapped back into the mannequin laying on the other couch. He looked over at Melissa and Jenna sitting on his live self. It was the same scene he’d witnessed after helping the old woman across the street, when he saw those two coeds dominating a bench with their sensual weight. But he also saw himself squirming as he tried to breathe.
Jenna got up off his live self and walked over to his mannequin self. “I think I’ll sit on… this… Brad,” she told Melissa and sat down heavily on his face. Again, he felt the same crushing weight of her butt mashed onto his face, but he didn’t need to breathe. She crossed those beautiful thighs and sat on him with the same detachment to him as a human being as she related to him as any other inanimate object.
“Which one do you prefer sitting on?” asked Melissa.
“Well,” said Jenna. “I like sitting on Brad the mannequin… but I also like the feeling of power of sitting on the other Brad, the one who can’t breathe when I plop down on his face.”
“Interesting, isn’t it,” remarked Melissa, but which one?”
“Well,” said Jenna. “I guess I’d… rather… sit on the other Brad. I’ve never met a man who wanted a girl to sit on his face like that. I just wish he was this mannequin so I could sit on him as long as I want.”
“Yes,” agreed Melissa, “I know what you mean. When I sit on a man’s face, I want to just keep sitting on him, and it’s frustrating. I know I can’t do that without suffocating him.” Again, Brad head the familiar sound of Melissa walking over closer to him as a mannequin. She sat down heavily on his mannequin chest and stomach.
“Oh, Brad,” said Jenna to his real self lying on the other couch. “Can’t you be more like this mannequin so we can really use you for a seat and sit on you?
“Maybe,” said his real self on the other couch.
“What do you mean, maybe?” asked Jenna. “How can you do that? In case you haven’t looked lately, you are not a mannequin.” She giggled and Melissa also chuckled.
“If they only knew,” thought Brad as he lay crushed under them.
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