The Practice Dummy-- part four
by
Couchman
After his experience as a mannequin, with Jenna and her roommates sitting so casually on his face and body, it was difficult for Brad to focus on the real world. He had to constantly remind himself that he had a life as a real person, that he was a college student with perhaps a good job in his future. He loved college. He loved the life of academia and it’s world of ideas to reflect upon. But the fetish he’d had for as long as he could remember, the desire, even the need, to be used as something for women and girls to sit on, was always ever-present and powerful. He now had a special gift, the ability to transform himself into the mannequin at will simply by thinking the word: transform. He soon discovered it was not easy to not think of a word when that word can so dramatically change your reality. He had to learn to trick his mind during internal monologue by using the word quickly in connection with other words, for as soon as he concentrated on the word he would find himself changed into the mannequin.
That evening at his apartment, he reflected upon earlier events in Jenna’s apartment as the mannequin. He mentally relived Jenna sitting on his mannequin face as she drove to the house she shared with her three roommates. He recalled the feeling of complete helplessness as Jenna dragged him up the stairs to their house, his angle of vision so low that with each step she took her hips and skirt swayed outward over his face, her firm thighs and bikini clad butt hovering momentarily above his face. The very promise that Jenna was taking him home with her for the purpose of sitting on him had been such a turn on. Jenna had borrowed him from the video producer Melissa. But, at least temporarily, Jenna owned him. He was her property-- a thing-- and object without feelings, particularly sexual feelings, which allowed her to circumvent all social mores, to let her skirt drift over his face as she sat on it so nonchalantly. Although as a mannequin he did not have to breathe, he could still feel her body weight and his face mashed beneath her butt as she sat. Her relentless weight atop his face was a mixture of pain and pleasure. The pleasure was not only the feeling of her butt on his face, but also the fact that she was causing him so much discomfort without realizing it. To Jenna, his face was as inferior as any common chair or couch cushion. And she used it the same way: simply sitting on it.
Jenna’s roommates, Angie, Lea, and Emily had all sat on his face, as well. Angie and Lea had no problem with it. It was Emily, the pretty blonde coed, who was more conservative. She had sat on his face, but only after Angie pushed her backwards on top of it. It was very difficult to get the experience out of his mind. He so wanted to change himself back into the mannequin, but chose to study instead.
Brad succeeded in studying for about an hour when, suddenly, he heard a female voice in his head say, “I’m going to sit on you, Brad.” The voice sounded so real it startled him, causing him to glance around the room. But he was alone. The sexy young female voice didn’t sound like Jenna or any of her roommates. Then the voice said, “I think I’ll sit… here.” A feeling of rough fabric pushed his head backwards. “What is going on?” he said aloud. He then thought the word he’d been trying to block from his mind. “Transform,” he said to himself. He immediately found himself back into the mannequin and felt her full weight on his head. A girl with tight, denim jean shorts was sitting on his face.
“This is wild,” said the girl, chuckling. “Finally… A man’s face we can sit on.”
“Yeah,” he heard Angie saying. “Too bad he isn’t real.”
Then Brad felt Angie’s weight as she let her butt drop down on his crotch and stomach. She bounced on it a couple times, laughing.
The girl who was now sitting on his face wasn’t one of Jenna’s roommates. He surmised it was a friend of Angie… Angie, the beautiful brunette who seemed the most excited about sitting on his mannequin body, and had expressed an interest in sitting that way on a live person.
“Could you do that?” asked Angie.
“Huh?” said the girl atop his face. “Oh… You mean sit on his face… a live person?”
“Yeah,” said Angie. “Jenna says she knows a guy who wants girls to use him for a couch cushion.”
“Serious?” said the girl, crossing her legs and squishing his mannequin head deeper into the couch. “This guy wants to be a couch cushion? And we’d come over and… just… sit on him?”
“Yep,” said Angie. “Sit on him the same as we’re sitting on this mannequin. Wouldn’t it be fun!”
“I would do it,” said the girl atop his mannequin face. “I’d come over and plop my, butt, right on his face… if he doesn’t care if I squish him.” The girls laughed, and Angie added, “I think he’d change his mind if we, really, used him as our couch and sat on him.” “Yes,” replied the other girl. You’d probably hear his bones… crunch… every time we sat down on him.” “However,” added Angie, “the couch would absorb some of our weight when we sat on him… sort of like a shock absorber.” She demonstrated by bouncing a few times on his crotch and stomach.
“It would still be a lot of weight on top of him,” said the girl, un-knowingly torturing his mannequin face with her curvy weight.
“What are you and your sister talking about, Angie?” Jenna had come back into the living room. Angie’s sister got up off his face. Angie’s sister Mandy was a pretty brunette of about average height with a tight, round ass and shapely thighs. Brad saw that Jenna was still wearing the plaid mini-skirt and high heel shoes with frilly angle socks.
“My sister Mandy and I just love sitting on your mannequin.” said Angie, still seated atop his crotch and stomach. She slid her butt over high on his chest. “But who is the guy who wants girls to use him for a couch cushion?”
“Why?” asked Jenna.
“What do you think,” said Angie, grinning. “So we can sit on him.”
“I can’t tell you that,” replied Jenna. Obviously she didn’t want them to know she had acted in a video and sat on his live face.
“Oh come on,” pleaded Mandy, Angie’s sister who had been sitting on his mannequin face. “We want to do it. We want to use a man for a couch seat.”
“It’s impossible,” said Jenna, trying to change the subject. “You’d hurt him. You’d smother him if you sat on his face… How do you expect him to breathe with your big butts on his face.”
“Excuse me?” said Angie, chuckling. “My butt isn’t big.” She looked down at his mannequin face and asked,” “Um… what’s your mannequin’s name… Brad… Brad? Do I have a big butt?” She acted like she was listening to him. “See? Brad doesn’t think I have a big butt.”
Jenna was now standing next to the end of the couch where his mannequin head was. “What if you were wearing a skirt, like this?” said Jenna, brushing the hem of her skirt above his head. “And sat on his face like this…” She directed her hips into a sexy arc, her skirt flew over his head, and sat down on his mannequin face.
“Well,” said Angie. “He’s suppose to be a couch cushion, right?… I’d sit on his face. I don’t care if my skirt goes over a couch seat when I sit on it.”
Jenna was, again, sitting on his mannequin face, her scantily clad butt mashing his head into the couch beneath him. She crossed her golden thighs. “I don’t know. I can’t. I just can’t tell you who he is.”
“Oh come on,” said Angie. “Tell us… We all love you. You can tell us.” Brad felt the relief of her getting up from his chest. But then his head pushed deeper into the couch. He surmised that Angie had sat on Jenna’s lap, and may have put her arms around her, affectionately, in a further attempt to get information out of her.
“Why won’t you tell us?” she asked. “Why is it such a big secret?”
“Well…What about Emily? Emily wouldn’t stand for it. You know how she is,” said Jenna. “She wouldn’t even sit on the mannequin until you pushed her down on his face.”
“If Emily doesn’t want to sit on him, she doesn’t have to,” said Angie. “There are plenty of chairs around here.”
“Chairs,” said Jenna. Then a thought crossed her mind. “Do you know what?” She got up from his mannequin face. “This mannequin… The head comes off.” Brad felt her tight grip on his head as she pulled it away from the rest of his mannequin body.
“Oh cool!” exclaimed Angie. “Put his head on a chair seat.”
Brad stared up at Jenna as she carried his head away from his body. Even though he was separated from his body, he could feel his cock warm at the thought of what she was about to do. She placed his mannequin head on a chair seat-- face up. He looked up her toned but soft female form, up her skirt and her smooth thighs as she grinned at Angie and her sister Mandy. Brad felt the extra hardness of the chair his head lay on. He knew she was going to sit down, and it was going to be more painful then the softer couch. But of course, to Jenna, he was an inanimate object without feelings. It didn’t matter to her either way. She turned around and sat down heavily on his mannequin face.
“I hope I don’t break him,” she said. “Melissa would not be happy.”
“Oh fun!” exclaimed Angie. “We could do that to that mysterious guy you know… We could make him put his head on a chair seat and sit on him.”
“Oh my gosh!” exclaimed Jenna. “Angie, you are so sadistic.”
“Well,” retorted Angie. “If he like getting sat on. I think he’d make a nice chair seat as well, wouldn’t he Mandy.”
“Oh yeah,” said her sister with an evil chuckle.
Emily had no idea how much pain she was causing Brad. The harder chair seat offered little padding to absorb her weight on his decapitated mannequin head. She sat on his face a few moments and then got up. Angie practically pranced over to the chair with his head on it. Her rounded butt, tight with blue jean shorts, descended to his face as she sat down on it.
“I’d come over and sit on his face-- just like this,” she told Jenna.
“Angie,” said Jenna. “If you sat on a live man’s face like that, with his head on a chair seat, you’d probably break his nose or something. He wouldn’t let you do that to him.”
“You don’ t know that,” said Angie. “I am so intrigued at the idea of using a man as something to sit on. Please tell us who this guy is.”
As Brad was forced to endure Angie’s butt and all her weight atop his mannequin face, he realized that Jenna was right. It was torture enough with her sitting on his mannequin face. If Angie had him rest his head on a chair seat, as a live person, and sat on his face with her whole weight… she would probably hurt him. Yet he admitted to himself that he just might let her do it. The fetish was so strong it blocked out rational thought.
“Tell us… Please,” begged Angie. “Who is this guy who wants to be used as a piece of human furniture?”
“I’ll think about it,” said Jenna. “Meanwhile, do you mind if I have his head back,” she asked, referring to the mannequin.
“Can’t I keep it for the night?” asked Angie. “Mandy is staying the night with me. We want to take his head up to my room so we can sit on it.”
“I suppose so,” said Jenna. “But don’t you break it.”
“We’ll be careful,” said Angie.
Angie removed her butt and her weight from his mannequin face. She picked up his head, and Brad watched as she carried his separated head to her room. Her sister Mandy walked along beside her, and Brad stared up at the two girls towering above him.
“Where should we put him?” asked Mandy when they reached Angie’s room.
“On this chair,” said Angie, placing his head on a leather chair next to a desk. She positioned his head so that he was facing up. “Now you just stay there and don’t move,” said Angie. “So we can sit on you.”
“I don’t think he’s going anywhere,” said Mandy, chuckling. She approached the chair with a mischievous grin. She turned around and her knees bent as she lowered her rounded butt, tightened with denim shorts, onto his face. Mandy was by no means fat, yet she was a little heavier than her sister. The chair beneath him creaked as she allowed her butt to envelope his head, and her weight to push it harshly into the chair seat.
“What was the mannequin’s name again?” she asked Angie.
“Jenna calls him Brad,” said Angie. “I wonder why she chose that name?”
“Yes, I wonder,” added Mandy, “If that guy she knows… the one who likes girls to sit on him, is named Brad?”
“Maybe,” said Angie. “But his name is going to be, seat, if I find out who he is.”
“Yep,” agreed Mandy. She crossed her tanned thighs as she sat on his mannequin face. She shifted her butt around atop his face. The chair beneath him groaned again, as if protesting her sitting on it. Brad felt like groaning himself, but nothing came out of his motionless mannequin mouth.
“It’s kind of hot in my room, isn’t it,” said Angie.
“Sure is,” agreed Mandy. “She lifted her butt from his face, and it hovered above him, a blue denim sphere connected to tanned thighs. She pulled down her denim shorts, revealing yellow bikini panties, and then sat back down on his face. Brad watched as she slipped her shorts down around her ankles and pulled them off. She displayed a compete absence of modesty when sitting on what she perceived to be an inanimate object. Brad wondered if she would act that way around him if he was there as a live person.
“My turn,” said Angie. Mandy got up off his face, and Brad saw that both girls had removed their clothing except for bra and panties. With bare feet on carpet, Angie padded over to the chair. Brad marveled at her petite and compact body, her perky breasts, her slim waist, and her butt, now barely covered with pink panty material. With legs together forming a triangular shape between butt and legs, Angie swooped her butt over his face and let it drop, mashing his head into the chair beneath him.
“I hope you don’t mind if I sit on your face… Brad,” she said, coyly.
What an incredible feeling, thought Brad, getting sat on so casually by these girls. But the question nagged him. Would they sit on him so nonchalantly is he were there as a live person? Was it all talk? Girl Talk?
Mandy turned the stereo on; and the room was filled with rock music.
“Oh, I love this song!” said Mandy.
While Angie sat on his mannequin face, Brad heard the sound of bare feet padding carpet. He surmised that Mandy was dancing.
“C’mon. Dance with me, Angie.” said her sister.
Angie removed her butt from his mannequin face and began to dance with her sister. The two girls danced about the room, sometimes dancing close to the chair with his head on it, their sexy bottoms swaying above him. Brad thought this is the way it is with two girls alone in a room with what they thought was merely an object-- something to sit on when they wanted. When the tune they were dancing to stopped, Mandy was standing next to the chair. Never knowing when one of them would decide to sit down squarely on his face was incredibly exciting. Mandy stood a moment, talking to her sister, as he lay there gazing upwards at her young-womanly body. And then he saw that glance again-- that woman-to-chair-seat glance-- and knew in an instant that she was going to sit down. She want from a standing position to a rounded butt, obscuring his vision in a mere second as she sat on his face. And, again, she forced his mannequin head onto the chair seat with her weight. He had to admit it was painful indeed with her entire weight crushing his head. And, again, he admitted to himself that it was the pain mixed with such close physical contact with her butt that so warmed his cock, which was still attached to his mannequin torso in the living room.
Mandy continued to sit on his face while she chatted with her sister Angie. She had crossed her legs, and Brad felt the warmth of upper part of her thigh pressing against his face. He loved the experience of being mashed under her warm flesh, which grew hotter the longer she sat.
“Do you think I’m sadistic, Mandy?” asked her sister. “in wanting to sit on a live man’s face?”
Mandy shifted her butt around on his mannequin head. “It’s not like he would be that comfortable to sit on,” said Mandy. “No. I don’t think your sadistic. I guess it’s just the idea that we could use a live person as a… as a nothing… a seat.” Then she added, “If you’re sadistic, I must be too.” She arose part way off his face and then plopped back down on it, giggling.
Brad heard a faint knocking at the door.
“Who is it?” asked Angie.
“Me,” came a faint voice from outside.
“Come on in, Emily,” said Angie.
Brad heard the door open. “Oh my gosh,” he heard Emily say. “Lea told me you pulled his head off and took it to your room.”
“Yeah,” said Angie. “We’re having fun sitting on it.”
Mandy got up off his mannequin face. Emily stood in the doorway, gazing at his decapitated head. “Weird roommates,” she said. Emily was the shy, conservative one of the girls. She still had on the denim mini-skirt she was wearing when Angie pushed her down on his face.
“Anyway,” said Emily. “My laptop went down. May I borrow that extra lap top you have? I need it for classes tomorrow.”
“Maybe,” said Angie. She looked at her sister with a mischievous grin.
“Maybe?” asked Emily. “Well… Do you want to loan it to me or what?”
“On one condition,” said Angie.
“Huh?” said Emily. “What condition?” Then she looked over at Brad’s mannequin head, placed on the chair seat. “Oh… I get it,” said Emily. “I can borrow the lap top, but I suppose you want me to sit on his face.”
“yep,” said Angie.
“Jeez,” said an exasperated Emily. “He’s just a dumb mannequin. If it means so much to you, I’ll sit on his face.” She strode over to the chair. Pressing the denim mini-skirt into her butt and thighs she began to sit down on his face.
“Wait,” said Angie.
Emily arose before her butt made contact with his face.
“Let your skirt go over his head,” said Angie.
Brad gazed upwards under Emily’s skirt as she stood next to the chair. “Why?” asked Emily. “He’s not alive. It’s not like he can see up my skirt.”
“If you only knew,” thought Brad as he stared upwards under her skirt, marveling at her smooth thighs and tight butt, pink panties tucked into the crack of it.
“It’s no big thing,” said Emily. She allowed her butt to descend to his face again, but this time also allowing her skirt to go over his head. Her rounded butt and weight concentrated on his face pushed it deeper into the chair seat, engulfing it in pink panty material and tanned flesh.
“There,” said Emily. “Now can I borrow your lap top?”
“Emily,” said Angie. “What if that was a real live man you’re sitting on?”
“If he were a live man,” said Emily. “I sure wouldn’t be sitting on his face like this.”
“Jenna knows this guy,” said Angie, “who wants girls to use him like a human seat.”
“A human seat?” said Emily. “And sit on him?”
“Yes,” replied Angie.
“Why would a guy want girls to sit on him and mash him?” asked Emily.
“We don’t know,” said Angie. “But wouldn’t it be fun.”
“No…way would I sit on his face,” said Emily.
Angie pressed on. “Even if the rest of us sat on him?”
“I wouldn’t sit on him-- especially on his face,” said Emily. “I’d be embarrassed… and I’d hurt him.”
Brad considered the paradox of the experience. Emily was sitting on his face, her skirt over his head, her panty clad butt mashing it onto the chair seat while expressing her disgust over doing it to a live person. She shifted her butt a little on his face and crossed her thighs. “It’s even weird sitting on this mannequin’s face,” said Emily. “But a real person? I don’t think I could do it.”
“Well… anyway,” said Angie. “Jenna won’t tell us who he is.”
“Good,” said Emily. “Now… May I borrow your lap top?” She got up off his face and stood next to the chair. Brad took in the up skirt view of Emily as Angie handed her the lap top.
“Here,” said Angie. You earned it.”
Emily took the lap top and gazed back down at his mannequin head. “Just by sitting on a mannequin’s face?” said Emily. “Any time.”
After Emily left, Angie said, “I think she’ll do it… sit on him, if we can find out who he is.”
“Do you think so. Why?” said Mandy.
“I could see it in her eyes,” said Angie. “She liked sitting on the mannequin’s face. She just didn’t want to admit it to us, or herself.”
Angie and Mandy decided to go to bed, leaving Brad’s mannequin head resting on the chair. He decided he’d had enough excitement for one night. “Transform,” he thought to himself and he was back in his own off campus room, looking blankly at a text book. He shook his head back into the real word. He knew what he was going to do the next day-- what he, had, to do. He was going to approach Angie and tell her that he was the human seat Jenna spoke of. He had to find out if all the talk about using him as a seat was just talk, or if they would actually do it. He also asked himself why he couldn’t be satisfied getting sat on as a mannequin. He dozed off while considering something about circumventing social taboos.
… to be continued
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