by
Couchman
After Melissa and Jenna sat on Brad’s face as a mannequin, it seemed easier for Jenna-- the college girl Melissa had recruited to do a human furniture video-- to sit on his face as a human being. Neither women knew of the mysterious power he now possessed-- the power to change himself from a live person into a mannequin by simply thinking the word “transform.” What was even more bizarre was that after the transformation, he could actually be in two places at once-- both mannequin and his live self. He was now able to experience the difference between a woman sitting on his face as what she perceived to be an inanimate object and sitting on his face as a live person she was pretending to use as an inanimate object. By sitting on him as an inanimate object, Jenna was rapidly becoming desensitized to him as a live person. And that was exactly what Melissa was hoping to achieve when she bought the mannequin.
Melissa positioned the camera and lights and said to Brad and Jenna, “Okay… Let’s do this.”
Brad laid down on the couch. Jenna, dressed in plaid mini-skirt, white blouse which pushed out at perky breasts, and high heel sandals with ankle socks, took her cue from Melissa. She walked into the scene and stood next to the end of the couch where his head was. Swishing the hem of her skirt over tanned thighs she looked down at Brad and said: “You’re my slave… I own you and I can do anything I want to you… I’m going to sit on you… I’m going to sit on your face.” She turned around and stood a moment with her back to him, the underlining of her skirt hovering above him and displaying her tight buttocks, slightly covered with panty material.
Jenna began to sit down, her skirt flying over his face as her rounded butt descended to it’s fleshy target. She sat down hard, his face engulfed in female butt, and allowed her weight to push his head deeper into the couch.
Remembering her lines she said, “You make a comfy seat… I think I’ll just sit on you for awhile.” She crossed her legs and sat on his face.
“Cut,” said Melissa.
“Huh?” asked Jenna. “Did I do something wrong?”
Melissa turned the camera off. “Jenna, honey, you’re still being too easy on him. He’s only your seat, remember? Don’t be afraid to really sit on him.”
“But,” said Jenna, still perched heavily atop his face. “I… could… hurt him… He’s not like that mannequin over there.” She got up from Brad’s face, her skirt following her accent.
“Well,” said Melissa. “Try it with the mannequin again.”
“Transform,” Brad thought to himself and was zapped into the mannequin laying on the other couch. Jenna walked into the scene and approached him, now a mannequin, completely unaware he was able to see and feel her presence. She swished the hem of her skirt and looked down at him. “You’re my slave,” she told him. “I own you and I can do anything I want to you… I’m going to sit on you…I’m going to sit on your face.” She turned around and stood a moment with her back to him, the underling of her skirt hovering above him, as it was with the live Brad. Then, her skirt flying over his mannequin head, she sat down on his mannequin face, engulfing it beneath her splendid butt.
“There is a difference,” thought Brad. This time she had sat on his face more nonchalantly, with total indifference to him as anything but something to sit on. She crossed her legs as she sat heavily on his mannequin face.
“Like this?” she asked Melissa.
“Yes,” said Melissa. “Just like that.”
“I’m going to squish you, Brad,” she was telling his live self on the other couch as she sat on his mannequin face. “If I sit on you like this… I’ll squish you.” Then she told his real self again. “I wish you were this mannequin so I could… just… sit on you.”
“You can,” his live self on the other couch told her. “Sit on me just like you’re sitting on the mannequin.
“Melissa,” she said as she continued to sit on his mannequin face. “I’m having a hard time viewing Brad as a seat for me to sit on… I’m afraid I’ll hurt him… He’s not the same as this dumb mannequin.” She demonstrated her indifference to him as an inanimate object by raising up and letting her butt drop down harshly on his face. “I like sitting on this mannequin,” she told Melissa. “I’d like to take him home so me and my roommates can sit on him.”
“I’ll tell you what,” said Melissa. “Do the scene right and you can have-- well maybe borrow-- the mannequin.
“Really?” said Melissa, excited. “Oh, cool!”
She got up from his mannequin face and got ready for another take. She adjusted her skirt and walked into the scene. “Transform,” thought Brad and turned back into his real self on the other couch. Jenna approached the couch, swishing her skirt, and saying her lines. This time, when Jenna looked down at him as a live person, Brad could see much more indifference in her lovely brown eyes. Even her voice was different. When she said, “Sit on your face,” it sounded more like her talking to him as a mannequin. She sat down heavily on his face and crossed her legs. “You make a comfy seat… I think I’ll sit on you awhile.” she told his live self. And indeed she did. He could not breathe as a real person. Jenna continued to sit full weight on his face, her legs crossed casually, as he strained to breathe.
As it was in the script, Jenna continued to sit on his face as she brushed her lustrous blonde hair. Brad’s lungs hungered for air that was not available as her weight and butt focused tortuously on his face. He was allowed a thin slice of vision where her elevated thigh crossed over the other. His eye followed the under part of the thigh to where it met with her knee and then angled back down, and glimpsed the underlining of her skirt draped over it.
Jenna hummed a tune to herself as she sat nonchalantly on his face. He loved the feeling of her completely dominated him, a live person, as her seat, and decided to get a complete view of it. “Transform,” he thought to himself. He was instantly turned into the mannequin on the other couch, and looked over at Jenna sitting on his live self, his head and part of his chest concealed beneath her butt as she sat on him, casually brushing her hair. Then he slid his mannequin eyes over to where Melissa stood with the camera aimed at the human couch scene.
“Cut,” said Melissa. “That was great, Jenna.”
Brad watched with his mannequin eyes as Jenna got up from sitting on his live self. She looked down at his live self and said, “Are you okay, Brad? Did I squish you?” Then she turned to Melissa. “Look,” she said, “His face is all red.”
“Oh, that’s normal, honey,” said Melissa. “Okay, that was a good shoot. Melissa turned the camera off, approached his mannequin body and sat down heavily on his face. “The redness will go away,” she told Jenna as she sat on his mannequin face. Brad lay there with Melissa casually sitting on his face. She crossed her legs, and Brad got another view of a smooth thigh crossed over the other.
“Do I get to keep him?” asked Jenna, referring to the mannequin.
“Well,” replied Melissa. “Maybe you can borrow him… I’d like to use him when I’m training other girls to face sit.”
“Oh, cool!” exclaimed Jenna. Brad heard the familiar sound of heels on floor as Jenna walked over to where Melissa was sitting on his mannequin face. He got a glimpse of her knees as she turned and sat down on his mannequin chest and stomach. As usual, his body sank deeper into the couch from the added weight of Jenna also sitting on him.
“My roommates will think it’s fun to have a mannequin to sit on,” she told Melissa. Then she added, speaking to his real self. “Unless you’d let us sit on, you, like this Brad.”
“I might consider it,” said Brad with his real self voice.
“Forget it,” said Jenna. “You couldn’t handle all of us sitting on you. I have three roommates… If all four of us decided to sit on you at the same time, you’d be flat as a pancake.” She giggled. “But we could all sit on this mannequin. He wouldn’t care if we all sat on him together, would you mannequin,” she said to his mannequin self. Little did she know Brad could feel the crushing weight of she and Melissa sitting on his mannequin body, although, as a mannequin, he didn’t have to breathe. Melissa and Jenna could sit on him for hours, if they wanted to, and he’d still be his mannequin self, but the crushing pain of their butts and weight atop him would be intolerable.
“Well,” said Jenna. “May I borrow him?”
Melissa shifted her butt around atop his face and crossed her other thigh. “Well… I suppose,” said Melissa, “If you promise not to break him.”
“We won’t break him,” replied Jenna. “It’ll be so funny. I’ll put him on our couch, and when my roommates, Angie, Emily, and Lea come home I’ll tell them he’s a couch cushion and sit on his face.”
“Why not me?” Brad asked her with his real self. “I’ll be your couch cushion.”
“We would crush you,” Jenna told his real self. “And I’m sure that Emily, at least, wouldn’t sit on your face if she’s wearing a skirt. She’s too shy for that. Besides, if all four of us sat on you…” She paused a moment as she did some math in her head. “You’d have about five hundred pounds crushing your body. And what if one of us decided to sit on your face while we’re watching T.V. You’d get smothered to death by the time we got up.”
Of course Brad knew it to be true. The only way he could truly be used as something to sit on is when he had turned himself into the mannequin.
Said Melissa, “I had a slave once who wanted me to sit on his face until I smothered him to death.”
“Oh my gosh!” exclaimed Jenna. “He must have had a death wish. You didn’t do it, did you.”
“I must admit I was tempted,” said Melissa. “He told me he wanted to die under a woman’s butt. I played along with him. I pretended I was going to sit on him to death… I sat on his face until he passed out. Then I got up.” Melissa and Jenna laughed. “Have you ever thought about that, Brad?” Jenna asked his real self. “Ever want a woman to sit on your face till you’re dead?”
“Well,” said Brad with his real self voice. “The thought has crossed my mind.”
Jenna giggled. “If I ever decide to kill you, I know how to do it.”
Melissa arose from his tortured mannequin face, the scent of her womanly butt still lingering about his head. Then Jenna got up off his chest and stomach.
“Okay,” said Melissa. “I’ve got some editing to do. Go ahead and take the mannequin home with you, Jenna.”
Brad transformed himself back into his real body. “I wish it were me you were taking home to sit on,” he told Jenna.
“I’m sure you do,” said Jenna. “Maybe I’ll think about it.”
Melissa paid him a good amount of money for his services and he left inside his real self. He had to remain in his real body for the time being. But as soon as he’d gotten into his car and drove off, he stopped at a nearby city park and turned off the engine. “Transform,” he said to himself, and suddenly found himself back inside the mannequin. Jenna was carrying him to her car. He looked up at her with his mannequin eyes as Jenna placed him on the front seat of her car, folding his legs. He looked up under the steering wheel and realized that Jenna was going to sit down on his face while she drove home. She raised one foot and placed it on the floor board. Her skirt went over his head as she lifted the other foot and sat down on his mannequin face, pushing his head deep into the car seat from her weight. Even though she was sitting on his face, the car seat was low enough down that he could see the under part of her smooth thighs as she worked the car pedals. Her car was a four speed standard shift, and each time she pushed on the clutch to shift or on the brake, he could see her calves raise up a little. He lay there with Jenna sitting on his mannequin face, feeling the movement of the car each time she made a turn or stopped for a light. After driving for awhile with Jenna’s butt mashing his mannequin face, she stopped the car and got out. It was a tremendous feeling of relief when she finally removed her butt and young-womanly weight from his head. Grinning, she looked down at him and dragged him out of the car.
Brad realized he was at an old house in the college campus part of the city. He gazed up at her sexy body as she dragged him into the house. Once inside the house he looked around. There didn’t seem to be anyone home except Jenna. She laid him on his back on a couch. “I think I’ll call you Brad,” she told his mannequin self. This is going to be so fun when my roommates come home and find you lying there. You’re lucky, you know. Brad-- I mean the other Brad-- would love to be where you are, waiting for us girls to sit, all over, on you.” Jenna then sat down on his mannequin chest and crossed her shapely thighs. I wonder where they are?” she said. “They must have gone out for the night. I wish they’d come home. Maybe they’ll sit on your face… Brad,” she said, giggling and patting his face. Jenna was talking to his mannequin self as if he were a live person. She had no idea he could see her, hear her, and feel her weight as she sat on his mannequin chest. After sitting on his chest for awhile, Jenna got up and came back with what looked like a college text book in her hand. “I hope you don’t mind if I sit on your face while I study,” she told him. Then she added, “This is so dumb. “You’re a mannequin. Of course you don’t mind if I sit on your face.” And, again, he watched as her knees bent, allowing her butt to descend to his face with her skirt nonchalantly over his head. Jenna sat on his face as she would any other inanimate object, forcing his head deeper into the couch beneath him. She crossed her legs as she sat on his face. He heard the faint sound of pages turning.
Jenna had been sitting on his face for, what seemed to Brad, like at least an hour. He lay there crushed beneath her panty clad butt, and he peered under one thigh and at the end of the other thigh that was crossed over it, as she unconsciously dangled a foot.
Even though, as a mannequin, he did not need to breathe, her continued weight on his face was pure torture. But of course, she had no idea how much discomfort she was causing him. To Jenna, he was just something else to sit on.
“Jenna!” he heard an unfamiliar voice. “What are you doing?”
“I’m sitting on Brad, Lea,” she told the other girl. “He’s a mannequin. His name is Brad.”
“Where did you get him?” asked her roommate, Lea.
“That’s a secret,” said Jenna. “Don’t you think he makes a fun couch cushion?”
Lea laughed. “You’re sitting on his face, Jenna.”
“Yep,” said Jenna. “Brad has to let me sit on his face if I want to.” Then she added, “Wanna sit on him, Lea?” Jenna arose from his face and Brad could see who she was talking to. Lea was a tall, dark-haired girl. She was wearing a low cut black dress and dark nylon stockings. Like Jenna, she was beautiful. Brad thought she was just the kind of girl he often fantasized using him as human furniture. Lea stepped up closer to the couch. “You say his name is Brad?” She gazed down at him with the indifference only a girl would show an object, a chair, bench, or cushion she was considering sitting on.
“Yes,” said Lea. “I guess I, will, sit on you… Brad.”
“Sit on his face, Lea,” Jenna encouraged.
“Well,” said Lea, as she approached the end of the couch where his head was. “I guess… If you don’t mind if I sit my, butt, on your face… Brad,” she said and laughed. Lea began to sit down on his face, but she smoothed the black material of her dress over her butt, which disappointed Brad, and sat down on his face.
“I wouldn’t want… Brad… to see under my dress when I sit on his face,” she told Jenna, and laughed.
“Oh, don’t be silly,” said Jenna. “He’s only a mannequin.”
“I know,” said Lea. “I was just messing with you.” Lea arose from his face and flipped the back of her dress over his head. Brad got a glimpse of Lea’s rounded butt, barely covered with lacy black panties, before she sat back down on his face.
“There,” said Lea. “Are you happy? She crossed her dark nylon covered thighs as she sat on his face, crushing it beneath her college coed butt.
“I know someone,” said Jenna, “a real live man, who would love it if you sat on, him, like that.”
“Really?” said Lea. “Why would someone want me to sit on his face. I’d crush him.”
“That’s what, I, said,” added Jenna. “I guess he likes pain.”
“He must like pain,” said Jenna, “if he would want me to sit on his face, like this.”
Brad was loving the experience of Lea sitting on his mannequin face, while at the same time wondering why a man would want her to sit on his face. Lea continued to sit on his face, and then Brad felt his torso pushed into the couch as Jenna sat down on his chest. Lea and Jenna simply sat on him as the chatted about school and future plans. Brad thought, the old woman he helped across the street had given him what he asked for: he was now being treated the same as the bench he had seen those two coeds sitting on. He had the singular function, to these girls, as that bench-- simply something to sit on.
After getting his body sat on by Jenna and Lea for awhile, Brad heard two more female-sounding voices.
“What in the world is that?” asked one of them. “Is that a person you’re sitting on?”
Lea and Jenna laughed. “You wish,” said Lea. “Nope. He’s just a mannequin. Jenna got him from someplace. We’re using him as a couch cushion.”
“Oh, fun!” said the girl. “I wanna sit on him.”
Lea got up off his face, and Brad saw the two newest girls to arrive home. One of the girls was kind of short. She was a pretty brunette. She was wearing denim jean shorts and a tight-fitting tank top, well endowed in that part of her anatomy. She had a slim waist which flared out to meet ample hips and a tight butt. The other girl was medium height, with blonde hair tied back in a pony tail. She had on a short denim mini-skirt and was wearing sneakers.
“This is so fun,” said the girl with the denim shorts. She came closer to the couch. “Can I sit on his face?”
Brad looked up at the girl standing above him. He gazed longingly at her tanned, firm thighs and her tight, jean-covered butt. And upwards at those ample but firm breasts pushing out her tank top. He guessed that she weighed maybe one fifteen or twenty, and it excited him that she was about to sit down on his face with all of those one hundred fifteen pounds.
“His name is Brad,” said Jenna.
“Hi, Brad,” said the girl. “I’m going to sit on your face.” She turned around and began to sit down, her legs together, rounding her butt and tapering her legs into a V form which met with her bent knees. She halted her descent, just for a moment, and glanced back down at him-- as if to get a better aim for his face, and then her butt drop down heavily on his face.
“So… How do you like my butt on top of your face, Brad.” said the girl.
“Oh… Really,” said the other girl. “… placing a mannequin on our couch so we can sit on him.”
“Oh… Emily,” said the girl who was sitting on his face. “Don’t be such a spoil sport. It’s not like he’s a live person.” She got up off his face and patted it. “Have a seat, Emily.”
“I am, not, going to sit on his face,” said the blonde, pony tail girl with the denim skirt.
“Well then… Sit somewhere else on him. Sit on his chest or something,” said the girl with denim shorts who had just tortured his face with her butt.
“Yeah, Angie,” said Emily to her. “You…would probably sit on his face even if he were a live person.”
Angie laughed. “I probably would, if I had any volunteers.”
“All… Right,” said Emily, the girl in the denim skirt. “I’ll sit on him…I’ll sit… here… on his chest.” she plopped down hard on top of his chest. Her skirt rode up high after she sat down. Brad admired her lovely thighs and her butt spread out over his torso. She sat on him for only a few moments and then got up.
“Come on, Emily,” said Lea. “Sit on his face. We’ve all sat on his face but you.”
“Nope, I won’t, said Emily.
“Oh yes you will,” said Angie. She pushed Emily backwards, forcing her to sit down squarely on his face.”
“Very… Funny,” said Emily, who was now sitting on his face, her denim skirt over it when she sat down.
Brad was entrance by the experience of being used as something to sit on, so casually, so nonchalantly by these sexy coeds. But he suddenly heard a voice in his head-- and unfamiliar voice.
“Are you okay, sir?” A woman was speaking to him. “Are you sick? Are you okay?”
Brad suddenly remembered he had left his real self back at the city park, where he had stopped to transform himself.
“Transform,” he said to himself, and was zapped back into his real body. A woman was looking at him through the car window. “Huh?” he said.
“Are you okay, young man?” she repeated. “You’ve been sitting in your car, just staring into space. I became worried that you might be sick or something.”
“Oh… No,” Brad told her. “Thank you for your concern, but I’m fine. I was just… lost in thought.”
“You must have been really, deep, in your thoughts,” said the woman, chuckling. The woman went away, and Brad re-oriented himself to the real world.
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