thefeatherbeast
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Nov 5, 2005
- Messages
- 39
Here it is, THE MANNEQUIN MAN, the most depraved thing I've ever put to paper, for all Bluelighters to read and critique:
by thefeatherbeast
The department store sung something silly and stupid on the radio. Elevator music, drawing you in with the nonsense of its tubas and shiny saxophones. Nothing to listen to, just something to slide you into a demented state of mindless stupor. Keep walking, keep shopping. No thinking, just buying. Shirts, slacks, shoes, soaps, soups, sucker-pops and sleek slam-dunk sets for the kids. But Benton wasn’t there for buying.
Benton was there, as he usually was, to ignore the invariably invisibly hallucinatory hypnotism induced by the department store radio. He was there to silently scope something out, something he’d been watching for quite some time. It was those things, they were pasty-white and prim and perfect and stood on slightly curled knees in contrapposto poses, wearing whatever it was the store was selling.
He was implicitly intrigued by these figures. Perhaps, he pondered, the life he saw in them would be lost when they were stripped, savagely, of their garb. Perhaps they needed bleached jeans and baseball caps; without these articles they would be plain and ostensibly purposeless. But Benton betrayed this tradition of mannequin management and, indeed, he had some exciting ideas of his own.
He was sure that they were sentient beings, souls hidden beneath their smooth outer surfaces. They had thoughts, he knew it, they had feelings and premonitions and wild dreams. He saw some of himself in them, and without any family of his own, he supposed they would be perfect for him. He could share secrets, serve them supper, slide into bed with them. They would enjoy being liberated from their department store prison, and they would enjoy listening to Benton’s conversation. So, Benton decided, he would free his first family member from their confines.
Seeing no manageable method by which to acquire the his new plastic partners covertly, he simply pulled one down from its perch in a corner of the store, stripped it naked, and hauled it under his arm through a back fire exit. Instantly the alarm sounded, searing his ears with its drum-blowing siren scream. He sprinted for his car, threw it in the back, and hastily drove home. When he got there he went inside and cooked dinner for two. He set his late wife’s spot with his finest china and silverware, and sat Manni down at her meal.
“Manni,” he began. “So wonderful to have you here tonight. Isn’t it nice being out of that ugly store? Soon your friends will join us, and I think we’ll be a fantastic family.” Benton sipped his wine and enjoyed his meal, while Manni’s meal became cold. “Won’t you finish your wine, dear? It’s quite expensive.” Benton laughed heartily at Manni’s sexily sharp and snappy response, and then he finished her wine for her.
Not anticipating that she would not be able to finish it herself, he felt himself becoming a bit drunk as he packed away her uneaten food into the fridge. Soon he found himself drinking straight from the bottle, his upper lip dyed wine-red from his sloppy drunken drinking. After some discussion with Manni he found that the both of them were feeling quite restless and frisky, but he understood that Manni maintained some sexual limitations that seemed to embarrass her. Benton assured her that while he could not make her fertile, he could help her fulfill her sexual desires.
He took her into the garage and laid her down, making her comfortable under a blanket. Using a large drill, he drilled a hole between her legs and widened it with a thick dowel. And then he cleared away the wash of white dust around her and led her to bed. He left for a moment and returned with a large cup of lemon pudding, which he used to fill the hole. Manni giggled with pleasure as the pudding went in, cold and calm and satisfying. And then Benton made love to her furiously, using his pelvis to pump the pudding-hole while Manni squirmed stiffly in ecstasy. When he awoke she was staring unblinkingly into his eyes, and everything was crusted over with dried pudding, and something in it, perhaps the citric acid, stung his crotch desperately, but he held Manni close and Benton was sure at that moment that he was falling in love again.
Benton went to work with the sheets, putting them through the washer, and enjoying Manni’s company. Soon he told her that he would have to go, but that he would soon be back, and not to worry. She pouted and he was sure to kiss her before he left.
Benton returned to the department store cautiously, making certain that no one would arrest him for saving Manni. Now, he knew, he would have to save one of her colleagues. He walked warily, watching wryly as store clerks patrolled like pompous prison guards. Eventually Benton found a suitable mannequin to set free. A man this time, proud and powerful and pulsing with plastic muscle. Benton disrobed him and escaped with him under his arm in much the same way Manni was freed.
He introduced himself as Mack and Benton assured him that he would be safe soon. Benton noticed how awkward he was. Benton understood. Like a man released after decades in prison who is lost and listless and knows not where to go or what to do. Benton saw how Mack felt so out of place could barely move, and when they shook hands Mack’s grip was stiff and loose all at once.
“You’re going to love Manni, Mack,” Benton said with a smile, trying hard to break the ice.
When they arrived at the house, Benton was sure Mack was delighted to see Manni there. Many rumors were circulating with the mannequins. Soon they would know that he, too, had disappeared. The three of them talked and chuckled and clawed at crackers, though Manni was tired from her and Benton’s long and lascivious night and Mack was still a bit anxious from the sudden change of scenery, so Benton did most of the cracker crunching. Mack seemed to quite begin to enjoy his new home, and when Benton and Manni were ready for bed Mack assured them both calmly that he was completely cozy on the couch for the night. He had, after all, spent the bulk of his life standing upright.
Benton brought Manni to bed and after enjoying another bliss-bloated bedtime ball they lay there staring at one another and sharing secrets and sweet sips of one another’s past. Manni, having spent her whole life enslaved by the despotic department store dogs, had little to share of a past that lacked the excitement and diversity of Benton’s. So she stayed mostly quiet.
The next morning Benton set out to get another mannequin out from the cold, cowhearted clutches of the department store, but he noticed a significant increase in security when he got there. So he apologized silently to all of the sad mannequins and drove to another store nearby where the mannequins, he was sure, needed saving.
When he arrived he wandered around the store trying to look like a browser, just wandering around watching and waiting and scoping out the security situation. It was a smaller store and so people were more packed inside, but security was lighter and he didn’t see any cameras except for a few at the cashier counters. So, in a ballsy move even for Benton, he grabbed two mannequins and ran out to his car, a corpulent cop chasing clumsily after him. Benton, not in top shape but by no means obese, easily outran him even lugging the two full-size mannequins and had just enough time to leap into his car and speed off without the guard being able to record his license plates.
He arrived home and introduced the two newest members of the family to the others, all of whom were happy to be safe with Benton. Their names were Mike and Melanie, and they assured Benton that they would do their own shopping as not to burden him with feeding them all. Besides, their kind did not tend to be very big eaters and Benton’s fridge was quickly filling with leftovers from unfinished Mannequin meals. But Benton didn’t care.
The family of freed friends lived happily for about a week. Benton wanted to make sure everyone got along before he went and liberated anyone else. But there were no problems. The bulk of the bunch, Benton included, were quiet but by no means brusque or brooding. And they enjoyed themselves. Melanie started to become a bit jealous of Benton and Manni, but the three of them decided that it would be perfectly all-right for all three of them to enjoy each other. So Benton plugged in the drill and made a double-batch of pudding for the night.
For a while Benton kept his head low, trying not to attract attention and never freeing more than two mannequins at once. One of his liberation operations went sour, as one of the mannequin’s arms hit a wall as Benton ran out and the arm disconnected and fell to the ground. Benton came back for it, narrowly escaped, and then found that he was unable to reattach it. Max, the one-armed mannequin, was grateful for his freedom nevertheless and quite enjoyed having his arm around, despite the fact that he couldn’t use it.
Benton found that most of the female mannequins, though all friendly, found themselves fuming and feverish with fiery passion toward Benton for freeing them. He was grateful for his family, though, and there was to be no jealously if their brave liberator could be shared among them. He found himself cooking large batches of pudding every night, then, and was delighted at how the family was quite enjoying their time living free under Benton’s safe and secure roof.
In seemingly no time at all Benton’s family had grown to 20 or 30 grateful and happy mannequins. The old idea of “the more, the merrier” seemed to apply distinctly here, manifesting itself in a mass of merry mannequins milling around Benton’s manor all day and night. The more Benton freed, the happier the family became, but there was something still on all of their minds: justice.
The family was free, but they still had countless brothers and sisters sick and suffering in captivity. Justice was yet to be had for the mannequin men and women, and so they confided in Benton their desire for final freedom, the ultimate peace plan: penetrate the department store and assassinate the owners. Arguing that they would be instantly recognized and taken down if they attempted an assassination as individuals, they decided that they would go together after Benton liberated a few more, overtake the place as an army of men and mannequins, and destroy like dogs the department store oppressors.
This plan stewed in the minds of the family for a couple of weeks, and whenever Benton freed any new members there would be great excitement in the house, for the army was growing stronger and every new member was enthusiastic about the plan. Benton knew his luck was running thin, as the family had grown to 50 or so mannequins and he was sure that at least one of the guards had gotten a fleeting glimpse of his license plate. Besides, Benton was beginning to run out of room for new members of his army-family. It was decided that they would march down to the department store, doggedly determined, the very next day and take what was theirs. Excitement stirred in the brains of Benton’s bunch, and a grand celebration began that night. Almost as soon as it began, however, there came an ominous slamming on the front door.
“Police!” a voice screamed. “We’ve got a warrant!”
Benton cried out and called to his cronies to get ready to fight. The mannequins mobilized, making fists and marking their lips with bite marks. There was a smashing sound and the door swung open, knocking over a couple of mannequins who were standing too close. The police stopped stunned and silently stared, their stares returned by a sea of white plastic mannequins, each with their own martinis or manhattans in hand. In the middle of the plastic ocean Benton sat, an inimitable expression on his face, his shirt open and his hair disheveled. He began to laugh at the police, for he knew they could never defeat an army of such size and of such incalculable dedication. And the police just stood there, not knowing whether to arrest Benton or simply to leave him to his madness, staring stolidly at the display before them, overwhelmed by the bizarre brotherhood that Benton had to behold, and perplexed by the pudding crust dried puzzlingly to seemingly every surface of the purplish walls and inanimate plastic people.
by thefeatherbeast
The department store sung something silly and stupid on the radio. Elevator music, drawing you in with the nonsense of its tubas and shiny saxophones. Nothing to listen to, just something to slide you into a demented state of mindless stupor. Keep walking, keep shopping. No thinking, just buying. Shirts, slacks, shoes, soaps, soups, sucker-pops and sleek slam-dunk sets for the kids. But Benton wasn’t there for buying.
Benton was there, as he usually was, to ignore the invariably invisibly hallucinatory hypnotism induced by the department store radio. He was there to silently scope something out, something he’d been watching for quite some time. It was those things, they were pasty-white and prim and perfect and stood on slightly curled knees in contrapposto poses, wearing whatever it was the store was selling.
He was implicitly intrigued by these figures. Perhaps, he pondered, the life he saw in them would be lost when they were stripped, savagely, of their garb. Perhaps they needed bleached jeans and baseball caps; without these articles they would be plain and ostensibly purposeless. But Benton betrayed this tradition of mannequin management and, indeed, he had some exciting ideas of his own.
He was sure that they were sentient beings, souls hidden beneath their smooth outer surfaces. They had thoughts, he knew it, they had feelings and premonitions and wild dreams. He saw some of himself in them, and without any family of his own, he supposed they would be perfect for him. He could share secrets, serve them supper, slide into bed with them. They would enjoy being liberated from their department store prison, and they would enjoy listening to Benton’s conversation. So, Benton decided, he would free his first family member from their confines.
Seeing no manageable method by which to acquire the his new plastic partners covertly, he simply pulled one down from its perch in a corner of the store, stripped it naked, and hauled it under his arm through a back fire exit. Instantly the alarm sounded, searing his ears with its drum-blowing siren scream. He sprinted for his car, threw it in the back, and hastily drove home. When he got there he went inside and cooked dinner for two. He set his late wife’s spot with his finest china and silverware, and sat Manni down at her meal.
“Manni,” he began. “So wonderful to have you here tonight. Isn’t it nice being out of that ugly store? Soon your friends will join us, and I think we’ll be a fantastic family.” Benton sipped his wine and enjoyed his meal, while Manni’s meal became cold. “Won’t you finish your wine, dear? It’s quite expensive.” Benton laughed heartily at Manni’s sexily sharp and snappy response, and then he finished her wine for her.
Not anticipating that she would not be able to finish it herself, he felt himself becoming a bit drunk as he packed away her uneaten food into the fridge. Soon he found himself drinking straight from the bottle, his upper lip dyed wine-red from his sloppy drunken drinking. After some discussion with Manni he found that the both of them were feeling quite restless and frisky, but he understood that Manni maintained some sexual limitations that seemed to embarrass her. Benton assured her that while he could not make her fertile, he could help her fulfill her sexual desires.
He took her into the garage and laid her down, making her comfortable under a blanket. Using a large drill, he drilled a hole between her legs and widened it with a thick dowel. And then he cleared away the wash of white dust around her and led her to bed. He left for a moment and returned with a large cup of lemon pudding, which he used to fill the hole. Manni giggled with pleasure as the pudding went in, cold and calm and satisfying. And then Benton made love to her furiously, using his pelvis to pump the pudding-hole while Manni squirmed stiffly in ecstasy. When he awoke she was staring unblinkingly into his eyes, and everything was crusted over with dried pudding, and something in it, perhaps the citric acid, stung his crotch desperately, but he held Manni close and Benton was sure at that moment that he was falling in love again.
Benton went to work with the sheets, putting them through the washer, and enjoying Manni’s company. Soon he told her that he would have to go, but that he would soon be back, and not to worry. She pouted and he was sure to kiss her before he left.
Benton returned to the department store cautiously, making certain that no one would arrest him for saving Manni. Now, he knew, he would have to save one of her colleagues. He walked warily, watching wryly as store clerks patrolled like pompous prison guards. Eventually Benton found a suitable mannequin to set free. A man this time, proud and powerful and pulsing with plastic muscle. Benton disrobed him and escaped with him under his arm in much the same way Manni was freed.
He introduced himself as Mack and Benton assured him that he would be safe soon. Benton noticed how awkward he was. Benton understood. Like a man released after decades in prison who is lost and listless and knows not where to go or what to do. Benton saw how Mack felt so out of place could barely move, and when they shook hands Mack’s grip was stiff and loose all at once.
“You’re going to love Manni, Mack,” Benton said with a smile, trying hard to break the ice.
When they arrived at the house, Benton was sure Mack was delighted to see Manni there. Many rumors were circulating with the mannequins. Soon they would know that he, too, had disappeared. The three of them talked and chuckled and clawed at crackers, though Manni was tired from her and Benton’s long and lascivious night and Mack was still a bit anxious from the sudden change of scenery, so Benton did most of the cracker crunching. Mack seemed to quite begin to enjoy his new home, and when Benton and Manni were ready for bed Mack assured them both calmly that he was completely cozy on the couch for the night. He had, after all, spent the bulk of his life standing upright.
Benton brought Manni to bed and after enjoying another bliss-bloated bedtime ball they lay there staring at one another and sharing secrets and sweet sips of one another’s past. Manni, having spent her whole life enslaved by the despotic department store dogs, had little to share of a past that lacked the excitement and diversity of Benton’s. So she stayed mostly quiet.
The next morning Benton set out to get another mannequin out from the cold, cowhearted clutches of the department store, but he noticed a significant increase in security when he got there. So he apologized silently to all of the sad mannequins and drove to another store nearby where the mannequins, he was sure, needed saving.
When he arrived he wandered around the store trying to look like a browser, just wandering around watching and waiting and scoping out the security situation. It was a smaller store and so people were more packed inside, but security was lighter and he didn’t see any cameras except for a few at the cashier counters. So, in a ballsy move even for Benton, he grabbed two mannequins and ran out to his car, a corpulent cop chasing clumsily after him. Benton, not in top shape but by no means obese, easily outran him even lugging the two full-size mannequins and had just enough time to leap into his car and speed off without the guard being able to record his license plates.
He arrived home and introduced the two newest members of the family to the others, all of whom were happy to be safe with Benton. Their names were Mike and Melanie, and they assured Benton that they would do their own shopping as not to burden him with feeding them all. Besides, their kind did not tend to be very big eaters and Benton’s fridge was quickly filling with leftovers from unfinished Mannequin meals. But Benton didn’t care.
The family of freed friends lived happily for about a week. Benton wanted to make sure everyone got along before he went and liberated anyone else. But there were no problems. The bulk of the bunch, Benton included, were quiet but by no means brusque or brooding. And they enjoyed themselves. Melanie started to become a bit jealous of Benton and Manni, but the three of them decided that it would be perfectly all-right for all three of them to enjoy each other. So Benton plugged in the drill and made a double-batch of pudding for the night.
For a while Benton kept his head low, trying not to attract attention and never freeing more than two mannequins at once. One of his liberation operations went sour, as one of the mannequin’s arms hit a wall as Benton ran out and the arm disconnected and fell to the ground. Benton came back for it, narrowly escaped, and then found that he was unable to reattach it. Max, the one-armed mannequin, was grateful for his freedom nevertheless and quite enjoyed having his arm around, despite the fact that he couldn’t use it.
Benton found that most of the female mannequins, though all friendly, found themselves fuming and feverish with fiery passion toward Benton for freeing them. He was grateful for his family, though, and there was to be no jealously if their brave liberator could be shared among them. He found himself cooking large batches of pudding every night, then, and was delighted at how the family was quite enjoying their time living free under Benton’s safe and secure roof.
In seemingly no time at all Benton’s family had grown to 20 or 30 grateful and happy mannequins. The old idea of “the more, the merrier” seemed to apply distinctly here, manifesting itself in a mass of merry mannequins milling around Benton’s manor all day and night. The more Benton freed, the happier the family became, but there was something still on all of their minds: justice.
The family was free, but they still had countless brothers and sisters sick and suffering in captivity. Justice was yet to be had for the mannequin men and women, and so they confided in Benton their desire for final freedom, the ultimate peace plan: penetrate the department store and assassinate the owners. Arguing that they would be instantly recognized and taken down if they attempted an assassination as individuals, they decided that they would go together after Benton liberated a few more, overtake the place as an army of men and mannequins, and destroy like dogs the department store oppressors.
This plan stewed in the minds of the family for a couple of weeks, and whenever Benton freed any new members there would be great excitement in the house, for the army was growing stronger and every new member was enthusiastic about the plan. Benton knew his luck was running thin, as the family had grown to 50 or so mannequins and he was sure that at least one of the guards had gotten a fleeting glimpse of his license plate. Besides, Benton was beginning to run out of room for new members of his army-family. It was decided that they would march down to the department store, doggedly determined, the very next day and take what was theirs. Excitement stirred in the brains of Benton’s bunch, and a grand celebration began that night. Almost as soon as it began, however, there came an ominous slamming on the front door.
“Police!” a voice screamed. “We’ve got a warrant!”
Benton cried out and called to his cronies to get ready to fight. The mannequins mobilized, making fists and marking their lips with bite marks. There was a smashing sound and the door swung open, knocking over a couple of mannequins who were standing too close. The police stopped stunned and silently stared, their stares returned by a sea of white plastic mannequins, each with their own martinis or manhattans in hand. In the middle of the plastic ocean Benton sat, an inimitable expression on his face, his shirt open and his hair disheveled. He began to laugh at the police, for he knew they could never defeat an army of such size and of such incalculable dedication. And the police just stood there, not knowing whether to arrest Benton or simply to leave him to his madness, staring stolidly at the display before them, overwhelmed by the bizarre brotherhood that Benton had to behold, and perplexed by the pudding crust dried puzzlingly to seemingly every surface of the purplish walls and inanimate plastic people.
