couchman
08-08-2010, 1:01 PM
The Practice Dummy -- part 5
by
Couchman
The next morning during classes, Brad found it next to impossible to keep his mind on college lectures. His thoughts were so far away a professor may as well been talking about astronauts discovering green cheese on the moon for all he knew. Brad wondered how he would find Angie, and if he found her on campus, how he would divulge Jenna’s secret: that he was the man she spoke of who wanted to be used as a human seat. Even though, last night, when he was a mannequin and she had sat on his mannequin face and had expressed a desire to use a live man that way, what was he to do? Would he just walk up to her and offer her his body to sit on? People say many things, but actually doing them can be something else. He also wondered what was happening to the mannequin at the girls apartment. He could turn himself into it any time he wanted, but what was the point. The girls were all college students. They were probably at school, as he was. All together, there were five of them: Jenna, Lea, Emily-- the conservative one-- and Angie, the petite brunette who, along with her sister Mandy, had sat on his face the most, as a mannequin, and begged Jenna to tell them who he was so they could use him as a piece of human furniture.
He also recalled the day he had helped that mysterious old woman across the street who had given him the power to transform himself into a mannequin. And he recalled the shopkeeper, Marsha a dark haired beauty in her thirties who had sat on his mannequin face, and Melissa, the video producer who had bought him for girls to practice sitting on so that they would be more comfortable sitting on a live man’s face. In all, two women in their thirties and five college age girls had sat on his face as a mannequin. But only Jenna and the video producer Melissa had actually sat on his face as a live person. His mind became a blur of sexy female butts descending to his face, followed by their weight, mashing his head when they settled down on top of him.
Brad attended a large University. He had no idea how to find any of the girls who has sat on his face as a mannequin. In between classes he wondered about the campus in search of Angie or her sister Mandy. He finally saw a girl sitting alone on a bench. He recognized her as Emily, the girl most reluctant to use him as a human seat. She was talking to someone on a cell phone. He couldn’t resist strolling by in back of her to here what she was saying.
“Mom,” she was saying. “Sure. Just make yourself comfortable. I’ll be at the apartment soon.” Brad surmised that Emily’s mother had come to visit her. His eyes widened with anticipation. Emily’s mother was at the apartment. He didn’t want to appear obvious and couldn’t linger behind Emily, but as he was walking away he heard her say to her mother. “Did you see that stupid mannequin on the couch… yeah… the others have been sitting on him. Isn’t that weird.” And then he had walked out of earshot. He had to find out what was happening at the apartment. He sat down on a bench near the one Emily was sitting on and thought the word: transform.
He was back at the apartment, laying on the couch in mannequin form. A tall blonde woman who looked to be in her early forties stood staring at him. She had a phone in her hand. “Oh, I see him alright,” she was saying to Emily. “Why on Earth would your roommates want a male mannequin to use as something to sit on?” Emily’s mother, phone in hand, walked up closer to the couch where his mannequin body had been laid. Brad noticed that the girls had reattached his head to the rest of his motionless, mannequin body. “Why are they doing this?” she asked Emily. “Are they pretending he’s a live person and sitting on him?” She gazed down at Brad. “Oh, you girls these days,” she told her daughter. Brad gazed up at her. Emily’s mother was truly beautiful with her blonde hair and brown eyes. She wasn’t by any means fat, but voluptuous thought Brad. She had a very sexy body. It was evident where Emily got her own curvy body. She was dressed conservatively in a form fitting white skirt with a hemline starting a few inches above her knees. She listened in the phone as Emily said something to her. “Sit on his face?” she said. “Why?” she asked. “I don’t think the mannequin’s face would be too comfortable to sit on.” Brad hoped she would decide to try him out and plop her sexy butt on his face, but she didn’t. She turned away from him, leaving him to gaze upwards at her toned womanly form, towering above him.
“So,” she said. “How is school, honey?.. Are you learning anything? I mean, anything besides how to play with mannequins?” She glanced back down at him, that unaware glance of a woman to an inanimate object. She shifted her hips to one side, tightening the white skirt material about her buttocks.
“Sit on me,” thought Brad. “I’m only a mannequin.”
“They made you sit on his face, Emily?” she said. Then after listening some more on the phone she said, “Sit on a live man’s face? Oh, you are, not, serious? You’d hurt him.” Brad’s excitement grew as he saw her put her legs together, a hand reaching back to press white skirt material into her buttocks and thighs. Emily’s mother was preparing to sit down directly on his mannequin face. As her knees bent, her butt became a white cloth orb, descending to his face. Her butt connected with his face, pushing his head deeper into the couch from her weight.
“I don’t understand,” she said as she overwhelmed his face with her butt and womanly weight. “You’d hurt someone if you sat down on his face.” She shifted her butt a little as she crossed nylon thighs. “I sat on the mannequin’s face because I know I can’t hurt him. I might break him,” she chuckled. “But I can’t hurt him.” She was, as usual when he was in mannequin form, completely unaware that she was, indeed, hurting him. He wasn’t smothering. He didn’t need air as a mannequin, but her could feel all her weight atop his head. “No, honey,” she was saying. “I’m sure that… you… wouldn’t do something like that… I could sit on this mannequin’s face all day if I wanted to… but a live person? Oh, my gosh!” There was another pause while she listened in the phone. “Jenna does?” she said. “She knows some guy who wants to be treated like a human couch? My gosh! The fool must like getting squished. And how would he expect to breathe with you sitting on his face… You’d smother him. He must not think much of himself if he wants girls to use him like a seat of some kind, and sit on him!”
While Emily’s mother sat on his mannequin face, he began to consider her opinion that someone must have low self esteem to want to be treated as something for females to sit on. His mind returned to the scene of his original experience of two snooty college girls sitting on a bench. They wanted nothing to do with him as a man, but would, if he were the bench, occupy his body with their lovely butts. It might seem silly, but didn’t that make the bench more useful and important to them than he was as a real person? The girls allowed their lovely butts to connect with the bench because that’s what its’ social designation was: to sit on. He decided that this wasn’t the time for introspection. He was enjoying the experience of a sexy middle aged woman occupying his mannequin face with her rounded butt.
Emily’s mother continued her phone conversation. “You’re mannequin guy here isn’t very comfortable to sit on,” she told Emily. She proceeded to ask Emily about her classes and her roommates. Brad thought it strange that her mother had remarked about how uncomfortable he was to sit on, yet she made no attempt at getting up. She continued crushing his mannequin face under her middle aged rump. There was another couch in the apartment and several chairs, yet, despite her remark that his mannequin face wasn’t very comfortable to sit on, she made no attempt to get up. She was saying one thing but doing another. Did she actually like sitting on his mannequin face? Brad’s curiosity peeked when Emily’s mother said, “ I remember back when I was in college myself. I shouldn’t be telling you this, Emily, but I was at a party, rather intoxicated. There was this young man who was also very drunk and passed out on the couch. For some reason, I decided to sit on him. I went over and sat down, right on his face. Emily’s reaction to her mother’s confession was so loud, Brad could here it coming from phone. “Oh, honey, she said. “I was drunk. He was lying on the couch and I sat on his face. He didn’t like it. He kept trying to push me off. Everyone at the party thought it was so funny. But to tell you the truth, I kind of liked sitting on his face. But I sure don’t understand why a man would want girls… or even me… using him as a piece of furniture and sitting on him.” Brad heard Emily’s voice coming from the phone,” “Oh, mom! You are so weird!” He could hear loud laughing from the phone.
With Emily’s mother sitting on his face, Brad heard Emily’s roommate, Lea, as she entered the room. “What do you think of our mannequin seat?” she asked. “We all love sitting on him… but… well… Emily doesn’t like to.”
“It’s nothing, really,” said Emily’s mother to Lea. “He’s only a mannequin. You can’t hurt him… oh,” she added, “I was talking to your roommate Lea.” She returned her attention to Lea. “I was just telling Emily how, when I was your age, back in college, how I sat on this drunk guy’s face. He sure didn’t like it. I was squishing him,” she said and laughed. “Emily says you girls know of a man who actually, wants, you to use him as a seat and sit on him.”
“Oh, yeah,” replied Lea. “Angie is trying to find out who he is so we can bring him over here and… well… you know.” Brad felt the added weight of Lea sitting down on part of his chest and stomach. By this time, Emily’s mother had been sitting on his mannequin face for quite a while, and now with Lea sitting on his torso, he felt truly crushed.
Emily’s mother was saying into the phone, “Lea and I are both sitting on him… I mean the mannequin,” said her mother. “If he were a live man,” she added, “I don’t think he would like getting sat on like this.” With her butt firmly planted atop his mannequin face, she uncrossed one leg and crossed the other one over it. Brad loved the way her mother sat on his mannequin face so casually. But whey wouldn’t she,” thought Brad. He was in object form, inanimate object form, the same as anything else she might choose to sit on.
Lea asked her, “Would you sit on a live man like this?”
“Well… I don’t know,” was Emily’s mothers’ answer. “I would certainly crush him…and smother him if I sat on his face.”
Brad thought, “How curious. Sitting on a male mannequin has some kind of desensitization effect on women-- opening up the possibility, in their minds, of doing it to a live person. Melissa, the video producer who had bought him at the clothing store as a training prop, must have known that.
Lea asked Emily’s mother, “May I speak with Emily a moment?”
“Lea want so talk to you,” said her mother.
“See Emily,” said Lea. “Your mother would sit on that guy.”
“I didn’t say that,” said the middle aged woman torturing his mannequin face. “I did it when I was younger, like you, and, I must admit, kind of wild.” There was silence while she listened to what Emily was saying on the phone, then she added, “Yes. I kind of liked sitting on his face… but I was rather drunk then and…”
“I bet you’d sit on this guy if we find out who he is,” interjected Lea.
“Well,” Emily’s mother was saying to her. “If he wants to be used as some kind of human seat… and the fool doesn’t care if I squish him… I… might… sit on him.”
Lea interjected again, “On his face?”
“Well… Yes,” replied Emily’s mother. “If he doesn’t care if a hundred forty pound woman mashes his face… Yes… I would probably sit on his face.”
“Mom!” came the very audible reply on the phone.
“Oh, honey,” said her mother. “I sat on that guys face back in college… but I really hadn’t thought anymore about it until now… Yes,” she added with more enthusiasm. “If you locate the guy who wants to be used as human furniture, I’ll sit on his face and squish him.” She chuckled.
“Go for it,” said Lea, and bounced on his mannequin groin.
“How interesting,” thought Brad, as he lay crushed under the weight of Emily’s mother atop his transformed face. “Her reaction to the idea of using a man as a seat quickly evolved from revulsion to an attitude of wanting to do it, simply by sitting on his mannequin face awhile. It was as if sitting on an inanimate object shaped like a man induced in her a mental push in the direction of sitting on a live person. She was sitting on his face right now but wasn’t cognizant of it. Again, he wondered if it would be different if she had sat on his face when he was in live form. And, again, the concept of transcending social norms seem to be the key to what he was actually seeking. He wished to be treated as a seat, but as a live person. He wanted the same social designation as an inanimate object, but he wanted women to sit on him when they knew they were sitting on a live man. Again, it seemed to be a way of transcending some of the thousands of social norms that he detested.
After Misses Thompson-- Emily’s mother-- finished talking with Emily, she confided in Lea that her divorce from her husband had been rather ugly. Her husband had been mean to her and Emily, and she said she should have sat on his face a long time ago, sat on him until he stopped breathing.
“Well, we don’t want to kill this seat guy,” said Lea, chucking.
“Neither do I,” replied Mrs. Thompson. “But I’m not too fond of men these days… locate this… um… seat man… I’ll sit on his face.”
Mrs. Thompson finally removed her butt from his mannequin face and stood up. Lea remained seated on his torso, and Brad could now see that she was wearing a skirt, a pleated mini-skirt, and had her lovely brownish tanned legs crossed. He gazed at her hips, her slim waist, and perky breasts pushing at a halter top as her butt continued to torture his mannequin chest and stomach, one globe of her buttocks crushing his pseudo-male appendage. Lea was beautiful. She had that sexy dark skin tone that always looked tan. She had big brown eyes and long black hair that was tied behind her head and streamed down her back. Large hoop earrings completed her kind of Mediterranean appearance. It seemed paradoxical that a girl with such a soft, feminine body could create so much pain in his body as she sat on him.
“Maybe Angie can find this guy,” she told Mrs. Thompson. “I’ll sit on his face.” Her lips curled into a wry smile. She looked down at Brad’s mannequin head. She uncrossed her legs. Brad watched excited as she rotated her hips to one side. Her skirt went up over his head. Her butt hesitated a blissful moment as Brad took in the sight of white silky panties before she sat down full on his face. She kept her legs together as she sat on his mannequin face, forming a cone shape with tanned thighs that led to her bent knees. As usual, his head sank deeper into the couch beneath him as she allowed her entire body weight to compress it until he felt like he was actually a part of the couch. And yet again he experienced what seemed like a paradox: how could a girl with such a soft, feminine body inflict so much pain on his body as she sat on it? How silly, he thought. Of course she has weight. She’s not a weightless, ethereal being no matter how sexy it is to the eyes. Perhaps it was the commonly held belief of gentleness in females so sharply contradicted when they plopped their butts atop his body.
Lea sat on his mannequin face awhile and then go up. As usual, his head sprang back to it’s original position on the couch. Mrs. Thompson and Lea walked out of the room, and Brad decided it was time to return to his natural self. “Transform,” he said to himself. He was back on campus, sitting on a bench across from Emily, who was now concentrating on a book. He gazed longingly at her and the bench she was sitting on. Her lovely thighs crossed, her butt so nonchalantly occupying it for its’ intended purpose. Oh how he wanted to be that bench. If her roommates, and her mother, persuaded her to use him as human furniture, she might be sitting on his face the same way she was now sitting on the bench. He thought of revealing his secret to her, that he was the mysterious seat man Jenna spoke of. But, given her aversion so far of doing it, he decided against it. He decided to search for Angie or her sister Mandy, instead… the girls most interested in doing it.
He started to get up and continue his search about campus when he saw Jenna suddenly appear next to Emily. Jenna was wearing tight blue jeans. She plopped down beside Emily and the two began to chat. Brad tried not to look conspicuous as his eyes strayed about his surroundings, stealing a glace at the two girls whenever he could. But suddenly, during one of his stolen glances, he saw Emily’s lovely eyes trained directly at him. Jenna was whispering something to Emily and now she was staring directly at him. She listened to Jenna for awhile and then removed her mini-skirted butt from the bench. My gosh, Emily and Jenna were heading straight for him.
“Brad,” said Jenna to him. “This is Emily.”
“So,” said Emily. “You’re this “seat guy” my roommates have been talking about.”
Brad had no idea what to say to her. He looked at Jenna and managed a wry smile.
“My mother wants to sit on your face,” Emily blurted out.
Brad innocently replied, “Why would your mother want to do that?”
Emily turned to Jenna and asked, “Are you sure he’s the guy?”
“Oh, yes,” said Jenna.
“Oh… Come one,” said Emily, a stern look on her face. “You’re the guy who wants girls to treat him like a piece of furniture… a seat… and sit on him.”
“Well… I--” he mumbled.
“And,” continued Emily. “You’d probably like… me… to sit on you as well.”
“I guess,” said Brad. “If you want to.”
Emily looked at Jenna and said, “I should do it. I should just sit on his face and squish him. I bet he wouldn’t want to be a seat after that.”
“Is that a challenge,” said Brad, smiling.
“Are you serious?” asked Emily. “Do you want me and my roommates-- and even my mother-- to use you like a seat and sit on you?”
“Um… well… yes,” said Brad with a nervous smile.
Emily cast a quizzical look at Jenna then her large blue eyes met his again. “Oh this is preposterous,” she said. She twirled around, her blonde pony tail flipped as she walked away in a huff while mumbling, “… using a man as something to sit on.”
“Emily, wait,” said Jenna, going after her. She stood with a hand on Emily’s shoulder. “It’s all my fault,” Jenna told her. “ I shouldn’t have told you who he is.”
“First the mannequin,” said Emily, “and now a live person… and even my mother wants to sit on him… What is the matter with you people?”
Brad suddenly saw that Angie and her sister Mandy had joined them. They were each wearing blue jeans.
“What’s going on?” asked Angie. “Why is Emily so upset?”
“I told her who he is,” said Jenna.
“Who, who is?” asked Angie.
“The seat guy… the human furniture guy,” said Jenna. “It’s him,” she added, motioning towards Brad.
“Awesome!” said Angie. She and Mandy’s face lit up as they stared over at Brad. “Let’s go talk to him.” Angie and Mandy walked, practically skipped over to where he was sitting. Angie turned back towards Emily and said, “Come on, Emily. We can at least talk to him.”
Jenna put her arm about Emily’s waist and gently led her to where Angie and her sister stood gawking at Brad.
“So you’re the infamous seat man,” said Angie.
“Can we sit on you? For real?” said Mandy.
“Um… Yes,” said Brad… but not if it’s going to upset Emily like this.”
“I just don’t understand,” said Emily. “Why do you want girls to sit on you? Even sit on your face?”
“I don’t know. I guess because it’s fun.”
“Maybe it’s not a good idea,” said Angie, starting to lead Emily away.
“Wait a minute,” said Emily. She trained curious eyes at Brad. “I weight a hundred twenty pounds… don’t you care if I hurt you if I sat on you?”
“Well,” replied Brad. “One would think so… but I guess not.”
“If you don’t care if you get squished,” said Emily. “Why do we have to wait till you’re at our apartment. Why don’t we sit on you right now?”
“Right here?” said Brad. “With all these people walking by?”
“Sure,” said Emily, a growing anger in her eyes. “You want to be something to sit on. Why don’t we all just use you for a bench?”
“Cool!” exclaimed Angie. “Lie down on the bench so we can all sit on you.”
“Oh I don’t know,” said Brad. “Here on campus, for everyone to see?”
“Why not here,” said Emily. “You want to be a seat for girls to sit on.”
Brad recalled the experience he had as a mannequin, when the girls placed his head on a hard chair and sat on it. The wooden bench would offer little protection. He could be truly injured.
“We have to try you out,” said Angie. “Before I buy a chair or a couch I always sit on it to try it out.”
Brad looked at Jenna, who simply shrugged.
“Well… Okay,” he said, lying down on the bench.
“Who gets to sit on his face?” asked Angie, excited.
“I do,” said Emily. “I get to sit on his face.”
“Here’s a nice bench,” said Jenna, remembering her part in the face sitting video. “Let’s sit on it.” She plopped down on his legs, her body weight crushing his legs into the bench.
“Yes,” said Mandy, “Let’s sit on this bench,” Mandy sat down on his stomach, then Angie sat on his chest. The combined weight of the three girls sitting on him as he lay on a hard bench was indeed painful. He was gazing up at Angie, her sexy butt occupying his chest when he saw Emily standing next to his head. “I think I’ll sit… here,” said Emily, looking down at him and swishing the hem of her skirt. “It’s only a bench. I can sit down anywhere I want to on it.” Emily turned around, and Brad grimaced at the promise of her whole weight on his head. Emily’s knees bent, he saw a hand reach back and press skirt material into her butt and thighs as she sat down on his face. Emily allowed her whole weight to push his head onto an unforgiving bench. Then, much to his surprise, she arose a little and her skirt was over his head. As Emily sat back down on his face he glimpsed pink panties barely covering her butt cheeks.
The combined weight of four girls sitting across his supine body was oppressive yet exciting. What was most exciting was Emily, the most conservative one of the bunch, sitting on his face with her skirt over his head. She rested one golden thigh over the other as she tortured his upturned face with her weight.
Brad heard the voice of two girls who were passing by the scene. “They sat on him!” one girl said. “Good,” said the other girl, laughing. “Sit on the guy. Mash him.”
“He’s going to be our new couch cushion,” said Angie, proudly.
“Oh, fun!” said one of the girls. “Can we come over and sit on him too?”
“Sure,” chirped Angie. “When we get him home, come on over and sit on him.” Emily got up off his face, and Brad saw that the two girls they were talking to were the same two girls who had rejected him the day he helped the old magical woman across the street, the two snooty girls who were sitting on a bench when he expressed his wish to the old woman.
“Yeah,” said the blonde girl to her friend. “I’ll sit on his face.”
“Me, too,” said the other.
Angie got up off his chest and scribbled the address to their apartment for the girls. Then Jenna and Mandy relieved his body of their crushing weight.
… to be continued.
by
Couchman
The next morning during classes, Brad found it next to impossible to keep his mind on college lectures. His thoughts were so far away a professor may as well been talking about astronauts discovering green cheese on the moon for all he knew. Brad wondered how he would find Angie, and if he found her on campus, how he would divulge Jenna’s secret: that he was the man she spoke of who wanted to be used as a human seat. Even though, last night, when he was a mannequin and she had sat on his mannequin face and had expressed a desire to use a live man that way, what was he to do? Would he just walk up to her and offer her his body to sit on? People say many things, but actually doing them can be something else. He also wondered what was happening to the mannequin at the girls apartment. He could turn himself into it any time he wanted, but what was the point. The girls were all college students. They were probably at school, as he was. All together, there were five of them: Jenna, Lea, Emily-- the conservative one-- and Angie, the petite brunette who, along with her sister Mandy, had sat on his face the most, as a mannequin, and begged Jenna to tell them who he was so they could use him as a piece of human furniture.
He also recalled the day he had helped that mysterious old woman across the street who had given him the power to transform himself into a mannequin. And he recalled the shopkeeper, Marsha a dark haired beauty in her thirties who had sat on his mannequin face, and Melissa, the video producer who had bought him for girls to practice sitting on so that they would be more comfortable sitting on a live man’s face. In all, two women in their thirties and five college age girls had sat on his face as a mannequin. But only Jenna and the video producer Melissa had actually sat on his face as a live person. His mind became a blur of sexy female butts descending to his face, followed by their weight, mashing his head when they settled down on top of him.
Brad attended a large University. He had no idea how to find any of the girls who has sat on his face as a mannequin. In between classes he wondered about the campus in search of Angie or her sister Mandy. He finally saw a girl sitting alone on a bench. He recognized her as Emily, the girl most reluctant to use him as a human seat. She was talking to someone on a cell phone. He couldn’t resist strolling by in back of her to here what she was saying.
“Mom,” she was saying. “Sure. Just make yourself comfortable. I’ll be at the apartment soon.” Brad surmised that Emily’s mother had come to visit her. His eyes widened with anticipation. Emily’s mother was at the apartment. He didn’t want to appear obvious and couldn’t linger behind Emily, but as he was walking away he heard her say to her mother. “Did you see that stupid mannequin on the couch… yeah… the others have been sitting on him. Isn’t that weird.” And then he had walked out of earshot. He had to find out what was happening at the apartment. He sat down on a bench near the one Emily was sitting on and thought the word: transform.
He was back at the apartment, laying on the couch in mannequin form. A tall blonde woman who looked to be in her early forties stood staring at him. She had a phone in her hand. “Oh, I see him alright,” she was saying to Emily. “Why on Earth would your roommates want a male mannequin to use as something to sit on?” Emily’s mother, phone in hand, walked up closer to the couch where his mannequin body had been laid. Brad noticed that the girls had reattached his head to the rest of his motionless, mannequin body. “Why are they doing this?” she asked Emily. “Are they pretending he’s a live person and sitting on him?” She gazed down at Brad. “Oh, you girls these days,” she told her daughter. Brad gazed up at her. Emily’s mother was truly beautiful with her blonde hair and brown eyes. She wasn’t by any means fat, but voluptuous thought Brad. She had a very sexy body. It was evident where Emily got her own curvy body. She was dressed conservatively in a form fitting white skirt with a hemline starting a few inches above her knees. She listened in the phone as Emily said something to her. “Sit on his face?” she said. “Why?” she asked. “I don’t think the mannequin’s face would be too comfortable to sit on.” Brad hoped she would decide to try him out and plop her sexy butt on his face, but she didn’t. She turned away from him, leaving him to gaze upwards at her toned womanly form, towering above him.
“So,” she said. “How is school, honey?.. Are you learning anything? I mean, anything besides how to play with mannequins?” She glanced back down at him, that unaware glance of a woman to an inanimate object. She shifted her hips to one side, tightening the white skirt material about her buttocks.
“Sit on me,” thought Brad. “I’m only a mannequin.”
“They made you sit on his face, Emily?” she said. Then after listening some more on the phone she said, “Sit on a live man’s face? Oh, you are, not, serious? You’d hurt him.” Brad’s excitement grew as he saw her put her legs together, a hand reaching back to press white skirt material into her buttocks and thighs. Emily’s mother was preparing to sit down directly on his mannequin face. As her knees bent, her butt became a white cloth orb, descending to his face. Her butt connected with his face, pushing his head deeper into the couch from her weight.
“I don’t understand,” she said as she overwhelmed his face with her butt and womanly weight. “You’d hurt someone if you sat down on his face.” She shifted her butt a little as she crossed nylon thighs. “I sat on the mannequin’s face because I know I can’t hurt him. I might break him,” she chuckled. “But I can’t hurt him.” She was, as usual when he was in mannequin form, completely unaware that she was, indeed, hurting him. He wasn’t smothering. He didn’t need air as a mannequin, but her could feel all her weight atop his head. “No, honey,” she was saying. “I’m sure that… you… wouldn’t do something like that… I could sit on this mannequin’s face all day if I wanted to… but a live person? Oh, my gosh!” There was another pause while she listened in the phone. “Jenna does?” she said. “She knows some guy who wants to be treated like a human couch? My gosh! The fool must like getting squished. And how would he expect to breathe with you sitting on his face… You’d smother him. He must not think much of himself if he wants girls to use him like a seat of some kind, and sit on him!”
While Emily’s mother sat on his mannequin face, he began to consider her opinion that someone must have low self esteem to want to be treated as something for females to sit on. His mind returned to the scene of his original experience of two snooty college girls sitting on a bench. They wanted nothing to do with him as a man, but would, if he were the bench, occupy his body with their lovely butts. It might seem silly, but didn’t that make the bench more useful and important to them than he was as a real person? The girls allowed their lovely butts to connect with the bench because that’s what its’ social designation was: to sit on. He decided that this wasn’t the time for introspection. He was enjoying the experience of a sexy middle aged woman occupying his mannequin face with her rounded butt.
Emily’s mother continued her phone conversation. “You’re mannequin guy here isn’t very comfortable to sit on,” she told Emily. She proceeded to ask Emily about her classes and her roommates. Brad thought it strange that her mother had remarked about how uncomfortable he was to sit on, yet she made no attempt at getting up. She continued crushing his mannequin face under her middle aged rump. There was another couch in the apartment and several chairs, yet, despite her remark that his mannequin face wasn’t very comfortable to sit on, she made no attempt to get up. She was saying one thing but doing another. Did she actually like sitting on his mannequin face? Brad’s curiosity peeked when Emily’s mother said, “ I remember back when I was in college myself. I shouldn’t be telling you this, Emily, but I was at a party, rather intoxicated. There was this young man who was also very drunk and passed out on the couch. For some reason, I decided to sit on him. I went over and sat down, right on his face. Emily’s reaction to her mother’s confession was so loud, Brad could here it coming from phone. “Oh, honey, she said. “I was drunk. He was lying on the couch and I sat on his face. He didn’t like it. He kept trying to push me off. Everyone at the party thought it was so funny. But to tell you the truth, I kind of liked sitting on his face. But I sure don’t understand why a man would want girls… or even me… using him as a piece of furniture and sitting on him.” Brad heard Emily’s voice coming from the phone,” “Oh, mom! You are so weird!” He could hear loud laughing from the phone.
With Emily’s mother sitting on his face, Brad heard Emily’s roommate, Lea, as she entered the room. “What do you think of our mannequin seat?” she asked. “We all love sitting on him… but… well… Emily doesn’t like to.”
“It’s nothing, really,” said Emily’s mother to Lea. “He’s only a mannequin. You can’t hurt him… oh,” she added, “I was talking to your roommate Lea.” She returned her attention to Lea. “I was just telling Emily how, when I was your age, back in college, how I sat on this drunk guy’s face. He sure didn’t like it. I was squishing him,” she said and laughed. “Emily says you girls know of a man who actually, wants, you to use him as a seat and sit on him.”
“Oh, yeah,” replied Lea. “Angie is trying to find out who he is so we can bring him over here and… well… you know.” Brad felt the added weight of Lea sitting down on part of his chest and stomach. By this time, Emily’s mother had been sitting on his mannequin face for quite a while, and now with Lea sitting on his torso, he felt truly crushed.
Emily’s mother was saying into the phone, “Lea and I are both sitting on him… I mean the mannequin,” said her mother. “If he were a live man,” she added, “I don’t think he would like getting sat on like this.” With her butt firmly planted atop his mannequin face, she uncrossed one leg and crossed the other one over it. Brad loved the way her mother sat on his mannequin face so casually. But whey wouldn’t she,” thought Brad. He was in object form, inanimate object form, the same as anything else she might choose to sit on.
Lea asked her, “Would you sit on a live man like this?”
“Well… I don’t know,” was Emily’s mothers’ answer. “I would certainly crush him…and smother him if I sat on his face.”
Brad thought, “How curious. Sitting on a male mannequin has some kind of desensitization effect on women-- opening up the possibility, in their minds, of doing it to a live person. Melissa, the video producer who had bought him at the clothing store as a training prop, must have known that.
Lea asked Emily’s mother, “May I speak with Emily a moment?”
“Lea want so talk to you,” said her mother.
“See Emily,” said Lea. “Your mother would sit on that guy.”
“I didn’t say that,” said the middle aged woman torturing his mannequin face. “I did it when I was younger, like you, and, I must admit, kind of wild.” There was silence while she listened to what Emily was saying on the phone, then she added, “Yes. I kind of liked sitting on his face… but I was rather drunk then and…”
“I bet you’d sit on this guy if we find out who he is,” interjected Lea.
“Well,” Emily’s mother was saying to her. “If he wants to be used as some kind of human seat… and the fool doesn’t care if I squish him… I… might… sit on him.”
Lea interjected again, “On his face?”
“Well… Yes,” replied Emily’s mother. “If he doesn’t care if a hundred forty pound woman mashes his face… Yes… I would probably sit on his face.”
“Mom!” came the very audible reply on the phone.
“Oh, honey,” said her mother. “I sat on that guys face back in college… but I really hadn’t thought anymore about it until now… Yes,” she added with more enthusiasm. “If you locate the guy who wants to be used as human furniture, I’ll sit on his face and squish him.” She chuckled.
“Go for it,” said Lea, and bounced on his mannequin groin.
“How interesting,” thought Brad, as he lay crushed under the weight of Emily’s mother atop his transformed face. “Her reaction to the idea of using a man as a seat quickly evolved from revulsion to an attitude of wanting to do it, simply by sitting on his mannequin face awhile. It was as if sitting on an inanimate object shaped like a man induced in her a mental push in the direction of sitting on a live person. She was sitting on his face right now but wasn’t cognizant of it. Again, he wondered if it would be different if she had sat on his face when he was in live form. And, again, the concept of transcending social norms seem to be the key to what he was actually seeking. He wished to be treated as a seat, but as a live person. He wanted the same social designation as an inanimate object, but he wanted women to sit on him when they knew they were sitting on a live man. Again, it seemed to be a way of transcending some of the thousands of social norms that he detested.
After Misses Thompson-- Emily’s mother-- finished talking with Emily, she confided in Lea that her divorce from her husband had been rather ugly. Her husband had been mean to her and Emily, and she said she should have sat on his face a long time ago, sat on him until he stopped breathing.
“Well, we don’t want to kill this seat guy,” said Lea, chucking.
“Neither do I,” replied Mrs. Thompson. “But I’m not too fond of men these days… locate this… um… seat man… I’ll sit on his face.”
Mrs. Thompson finally removed her butt from his mannequin face and stood up. Lea remained seated on his torso, and Brad could now see that she was wearing a skirt, a pleated mini-skirt, and had her lovely brownish tanned legs crossed. He gazed at her hips, her slim waist, and perky breasts pushing at a halter top as her butt continued to torture his mannequin chest and stomach, one globe of her buttocks crushing his pseudo-male appendage. Lea was beautiful. She had that sexy dark skin tone that always looked tan. She had big brown eyes and long black hair that was tied behind her head and streamed down her back. Large hoop earrings completed her kind of Mediterranean appearance. It seemed paradoxical that a girl with such a soft, feminine body could create so much pain in his body as she sat on him.
“Maybe Angie can find this guy,” she told Mrs. Thompson. “I’ll sit on his face.” Her lips curled into a wry smile. She looked down at Brad’s mannequin head. She uncrossed her legs. Brad watched excited as she rotated her hips to one side. Her skirt went up over his head. Her butt hesitated a blissful moment as Brad took in the sight of white silky panties before she sat down full on his face. She kept her legs together as she sat on his mannequin face, forming a cone shape with tanned thighs that led to her bent knees. As usual, his head sank deeper into the couch beneath him as she allowed her entire body weight to compress it until he felt like he was actually a part of the couch. And yet again he experienced what seemed like a paradox: how could a girl with such a soft, feminine body inflict so much pain on his body as she sat on it? How silly, he thought. Of course she has weight. She’s not a weightless, ethereal being no matter how sexy it is to the eyes. Perhaps it was the commonly held belief of gentleness in females so sharply contradicted when they plopped their butts atop his body.
Lea sat on his mannequin face awhile and then go up. As usual, his head sprang back to it’s original position on the couch. Mrs. Thompson and Lea walked out of the room, and Brad decided it was time to return to his natural self. “Transform,” he said to himself. He was back on campus, sitting on a bench across from Emily, who was now concentrating on a book. He gazed longingly at her and the bench she was sitting on. Her lovely thighs crossed, her butt so nonchalantly occupying it for its’ intended purpose. Oh how he wanted to be that bench. If her roommates, and her mother, persuaded her to use him as human furniture, she might be sitting on his face the same way she was now sitting on the bench. He thought of revealing his secret to her, that he was the mysterious seat man Jenna spoke of. But, given her aversion so far of doing it, he decided against it. He decided to search for Angie or her sister Mandy, instead… the girls most interested in doing it.
He started to get up and continue his search about campus when he saw Jenna suddenly appear next to Emily. Jenna was wearing tight blue jeans. She plopped down beside Emily and the two began to chat. Brad tried not to look conspicuous as his eyes strayed about his surroundings, stealing a glace at the two girls whenever he could. But suddenly, during one of his stolen glances, he saw Emily’s lovely eyes trained directly at him. Jenna was whispering something to Emily and now she was staring directly at him. She listened to Jenna for awhile and then removed her mini-skirted butt from the bench. My gosh, Emily and Jenna were heading straight for him.
“Brad,” said Jenna to him. “This is Emily.”
“So,” said Emily. “You’re this “seat guy” my roommates have been talking about.”
Brad had no idea what to say to her. He looked at Jenna and managed a wry smile.
“My mother wants to sit on your face,” Emily blurted out.
Brad innocently replied, “Why would your mother want to do that?”
Emily turned to Jenna and asked, “Are you sure he’s the guy?”
“Oh, yes,” said Jenna.
“Oh… Come one,” said Emily, a stern look on her face. “You’re the guy who wants girls to treat him like a piece of furniture… a seat… and sit on him.”
“Well… I--” he mumbled.
“And,” continued Emily. “You’d probably like… me… to sit on you as well.”
“I guess,” said Brad. “If you want to.”
Emily looked at Jenna and said, “I should do it. I should just sit on his face and squish him. I bet he wouldn’t want to be a seat after that.”
“Is that a challenge,” said Brad, smiling.
“Are you serious?” asked Emily. “Do you want me and my roommates-- and even my mother-- to use you like a seat and sit on you?”
“Um… well… yes,” said Brad with a nervous smile.
Emily cast a quizzical look at Jenna then her large blue eyes met his again. “Oh this is preposterous,” she said. She twirled around, her blonde pony tail flipped as she walked away in a huff while mumbling, “… using a man as something to sit on.”
“Emily, wait,” said Jenna, going after her. She stood with a hand on Emily’s shoulder. “It’s all my fault,” Jenna told her. “ I shouldn’t have told you who he is.”
“First the mannequin,” said Emily, “and now a live person… and even my mother wants to sit on him… What is the matter with you people?”
Brad suddenly saw that Angie and her sister Mandy had joined them. They were each wearing blue jeans.
“What’s going on?” asked Angie. “Why is Emily so upset?”
“I told her who he is,” said Jenna.
“Who, who is?” asked Angie.
“The seat guy… the human furniture guy,” said Jenna. “It’s him,” she added, motioning towards Brad.
“Awesome!” said Angie. She and Mandy’s face lit up as they stared over at Brad. “Let’s go talk to him.” Angie and Mandy walked, practically skipped over to where he was sitting. Angie turned back towards Emily and said, “Come on, Emily. We can at least talk to him.”
Jenna put her arm about Emily’s waist and gently led her to where Angie and her sister stood gawking at Brad.
“So you’re the infamous seat man,” said Angie.
“Can we sit on you? For real?” said Mandy.
“Um… Yes,” said Brad… but not if it’s going to upset Emily like this.”
“I just don’t understand,” said Emily. “Why do you want girls to sit on you? Even sit on your face?”
“I don’t know. I guess because it’s fun.”
“Maybe it’s not a good idea,” said Angie, starting to lead Emily away.
“Wait a minute,” said Emily. She trained curious eyes at Brad. “I weight a hundred twenty pounds… don’t you care if I hurt you if I sat on you?”
“Well,” replied Brad. “One would think so… but I guess not.”
“If you don’t care if you get squished,” said Emily. “Why do we have to wait till you’re at our apartment. Why don’t we sit on you right now?”
“Right here?” said Brad. “With all these people walking by?”
“Sure,” said Emily, a growing anger in her eyes. “You want to be something to sit on. Why don’t we all just use you for a bench?”
“Cool!” exclaimed Angie. “Lie down on the bench so we can all sit on you.”
“Oh I don’t know,” said Brad. “Here on campus, for everyone to see?”
“Why not here,” said Emily. “You want to be a seat for girls to sit on.”
Brad recalled the experience he had as a mannequin, when the girls placed his head on a hard chair and sat on it. The wooden bench would offer little protection. He could be truly injured.
“We have to try you out,” said Angie. “Before I buy a chair or a couch I always sit on it to try it out.”
Brad looked at Jenna, who simply shrugged.
“Well… Okay,” he said, lying down on the bench.
“Who gets to sit on his face?” asked Angie, excited.
“I do,” said Emily. “I get to sit on his face.”
“Here’s a nice bench,” said Jenna, remembering her part in the face sitting video. “Let’s sit on it.” She plopped down on his legs, her body weight crushing his legs into the bench.
“Yes,” said Mandy, “Let’s sit on this bench,” Mandy sat down on his stomach, then Angie sat on his chest. The combined weight of the three girls sitting on him as he lay on a hard bench was indeed painful. He was gazing up at Angie, her sexy butt occupying his chest when he saw Emily standing next to his head. “I think I’ll sit… here,” said Emily, looking down at him and swishing the hem of her skirt. “It’s only a bench. I can sit down anywhere I want to on it.” Emily turned around, and Brad grimaced at the promise of her whole weight on his head. Emily’s knees bent, he saw a hand reach back and press skirt material into her butt and thighs as she sat down on his face. Emily allowed her whole weight to push his head onto an unforgiving bench. Then, much to his surprise, she arose a little and her skirt was over his head. As Emily sat back down on his face he glimpsed pink panties barely covering her butt cheeks.
The combined weight of four girls sitting across his supine body was oppressive yet exciting. What was most exciting was Emily, the most conservative one of the bunch, sitting on his face with her skirt over his head. She rested one golden thigh over the other as she tortured his upturned face with her weight.
Brad heard the voice of two girls who were passing by the scene. “They sat on him!” one girl said. “Good,” said the other girl, laughing. “Sit on the guy. Mash him.”
“He’s going to be our new couch cushion,” said Angie, proudly.
“Oh, fun!” said one of the girls. “Can we come over and sit on him too?”
“Sure,” chirped Angie. “When we get him home, come on over and sit on him.” Emily got up off his face, and Brad saw that the two girls they were talking to were the same two girls who had rejected him the day he helped the old magical woman across the street, the two snooty girls who were sitting on a bench when he expressed his wish to the old woman.
“Yeah,” said the blonde girl to her friend. “I’ll sit on his face.”
“Me, too,” said the other.
Angie got up off his chest and scribbled the address to their apartment for the girls. Then Jenna and Mandy relieved his body of their crushing weight.
… to be continued.