Date: Fri, 11 Mar 2005 17:18:58 EST
From: Jonah
Subject: The Mannequin 4

This story is a work of fiction so if you think you spot a likeness in
any of my characters to any real person it is entirely coincidental.
There is some male/male sex action with apparent minors, so if you are
likely to be offended by this, or if it is illegal for you to read it,
read no further.  Otherwise enjoy.
Jonah

Having filled the mould Anthony and I made straight for the shower
(plaster gets you filthy).  In his earlier life Anthony had not been well
off and would have been no stranger to good old honest dirt, but I had
never known him to display any.  By day he was a relatively clean
mannequin ( well not bad for 130 years old anyway).  By night he was a
scrupulously clean young boy.  The plaster dust he was sporting was the
nearest thing to dirt that I had ever seen on him. We stepped into the
shower and instantly fell into each others arms.  Anthony began kissing
me around the neck and moving lower as the water cascaded off our
bodies.  As he sucked, licked, and nibbled at my suddenly hard nipples I
was transported into a dream world.  He started drinking from my navel
and I seized his lovely head.  His lips moved lower and he slipped my
erection into his mouth.  As he sucked he lay back and pulled me down
with him. I was putty in his hands.  He was lying on his back with my
cock in his mouth.  The water must have been running off my cock.  I
maneouvred myself throughy 180 degrees so that I could reach his little
boy's willy.  The floor of a shower cubicle is not best suited for a 69
but we cared little for that.  The water was building up because one of
Anthony's beautiful bum cheeks was sealing the drainhole.  I don't think
we even noticed.  Within minutes I was filling his mouth with my
man-juice.

I stood, lifting him to his feet.  We began soaping each other.  Our
fingers probed every crevice.  I attended lovingly to his  gorgeous
feet.  He returned the compliment with interest.  After we had towelled
each other off we fell, exhausted but happy, onto my bed.

It was Sunday morning.  I lay naked on my bed.  The dummy lay next to
me.  Somehow the briefs had been replaced, though I imagined they had
assumed a tent shape at the front.  I hadn't noticed that before.  The
blue crystal of it's glass eyes seemed to twinkle more than it had
before.  Had I really succeeded in bringing some sort of meaning to his
tortured existence?  I kissed the dummy's cheek and got up.

After breakfast I moved the dummy into the living room and parked it next
to the enormous block of wax.  I knew better than to prise open the mould
yet.  Even quick-drying plaster would have been hard-put to have finished
setting in that quantity.  On Anthony's advice I had introduced a
makeshift wooden armature into the casting.  No doubt a modern mannequin
(one that wasn't made of plastic anyway) would have had a steel skeleton,
but Anthony was sure he had a wooden one.  He was sure, he said, because
he'd had to have some repairs done after an incident during the blitz.
My imagination boggled, but I daren't ask for more details. Anthony had
to be one brave boy. During the morning I made the necessary eyeball
castings using  clear casting resin and moulding with soft wax.  After
dinner I cut them to shape.   Anthony's hair and eyebrows, during the
day, were part of the plaster casting, but - like his eyes - the colour
was not the natural plaster colour of the rest of his body.  In other
words though his skin colour went right through ( that "incident" in the
blitz again) his eye,hair and eyebrow colour did not.

It was evening before I ventured to lift the top part of the mould.  It
lifted cleanly and in one piece.  The naked plaster boy was lying
face-down on the lower part of the mould.  Carefully I lifted the figure
by it's heels.  It's weight seemed to be on a par with Anthony's and I
soon had it upright.  I surveyed my work.  The new dummy seemed to be
identical to the old.  The faintest of casting lines showed where the
half-moulds had met.  That could be rubbed down with a dry sponge -
sandpaper would have been too abrasive.  I laid the dummy on the dining
table.  With a kitchen knife I worked at the plaster in the eye sockets,
"dishing" them to recieve the new eyeball castings.  I painted the
dishing in the same improbable colours that had been used on Anthony, and
then inserted the resin castings with a touch of "superglue" to keep them
in place.  I then painted in the dummy's eyebrows and hair - again using
the same colours that Anthony sported.  When I had finished you could
not, apart from the new paint on the new creation, have told the two
dummies apart. That done I placed both dummies on my bed and retreated to
the pub.

I returned shortly after closing time to find Anthony waiting up for me.
I raised my eyebrows questioningly.  Anthony nodded.
I was overcome with elation.  Had I really created a living being?
I rushed to the bedroom door.
"Wait!"
I stopped in my tracks.  Slowly I turned to Anthony.  The concern on his
face rooted me to the spot.
"He's asleep"
"Then...?"
Still I did not understand.
"He won't be able to talk to us," he said simply. "He doesn't know how".
Realisation flooded in.  I had not exactly been drunk before but now I
was as sober as something that is a great deal more sober than a judge.
Anthony's extra hundred years had given him a grasp of what I had only
vaguely realised.  I had created Frankenstein's monster.  The terrible
responsibility of raising this new "child" rested on me alone and already
the questions began flooding into my - admittedly somewhat addled -
brain.  A child needed love as an indispensible part of it's upbringing.
Could  I provide that.  Supposing the child grew to become dangerous?
Could I destroy my creation?  If the answer was "yes" then already I did
not love him enough.  How much did he need to learn about the outside
world, given that he could not experience that world.  Or could I prevent
him from experiencing it. If sex became the sum total of the new child's
living existence, could I reconcile that with the love I
have to feel for him in order to bring him up.
"You love me", said Anthony simply.
Crikey! could he really read my thoughts.
Anthony laughed, "you just became predictable", he said.  "To answer your
questions:you don't have to bring him up alone.  There are two of us.  If
he becomes dangerous he can only do it here.  Remember we can only come
alive at night and in private. If I were to go outside that door now I
would be plaster before I could shut it behind me. Only a very
priviledged few get to see us alive, and that is only because they really
care for us, so the question of how much you love him doesn't arise.  As
for whether it's ethical to enjoy sex with someone you're responsible for
- didn't we talk about that on our first night together?"
I was stunned., but I weathered it.
"One more question Anthony", I ventured.
"Oh yes!" said the erstwhile dummy, "Our ages. We both look nine years
old, but I am a hundred and thirty so I'm not really a minor.  Young
Andrew in there is, however, less than twenty-four hours old and so -
technically - a minor.  So you want to know if you can be arrested for
intercourse with a day-old plaster dummy.  Well some people might think
that pretty perverted, but Andrew and I are hardly likely to think so
given that it's the only reason we exist at all."
A new misgiving occurred to me, and I actually managed to beat Anthony to
it this time.
"It's just possible that he would have preferred not to exist at all"
Anthony looked me straight in the eye.  What spread slowly across his
face was indignation, and when he spoke it was the quiet condemnation of
a hundred and thirty year old.
"How dare you!", he said quietly and distinctly. "Do you imagine, in your
arrogance that you are the god who created Andrew?  Would you like to
give me the recipe?
I am the product of sex between my mother and a man I never knew.  Andrew
is the product of a little blind experimentation with things you cannot
even begin to understand; but we are both the creation, and therefore the
children, of the same God who created you.  God does not experiment with
things he doesn't understand, and you have no right to question his
motives in creating you, me or anyone or anything else."
I was suitably chastised and saw with a sudden clarity what, no doubt,
Anthony had seen all along: the source of my difficulty. I had always
regarded sex for enjoyment as a sin. So it was, in the normal course of
events.  These were not normal events.  These were circumstances which
had been created for some purpose we couldn't even guess at.  Ordinary
ethics were not meant to apply.
I rose and stepped over to the bedroom door.  Silently I waited while
Anthony joined me.  We quietly opened the door and went in.  Andrew - I
ought to have objected to Anthony naming him without consulting me but he
probably knew something I didn't -        was no longer asleep, but sat
up in bed. We sat either side of him and put our arms around him.  He
smiled and lay back so we lay either side of him and cuddled.
I was lying next to twin naked boys and the view from where I lay was
stunning.
"Jonah!"
"Hmm?"
"I need to talk to Andrew.  It's the only way he'll learn to talk.  Can
you go down and do our feet.  He'll like that.  I know I do"
I got up, gently kissed the two identical willies, and lay at the bottom
of the bed.  Andrew's feet were even more alluring than Anthony's.  The
colouring in the plaster was fresher so the live boy had pinker soles and
toes.  I cuddled both boys' feet and began licking all four soles.
Moving to Andrew's left foot I sucked on his little toe.  After a while I
let the cute little toe slip from my mouth - only to have Andrew insert
the next toe.  Crumbs!  he picked that up quickly.  I moved through all
Andrew's toes and moved on to Anthony's.  The slight salty taste was
there on both boys' toes although there could be no possible reson for
it.  As I sucked on Anthony's toes Andrew wriggled down so that he could
plant his lovely soft soles on my face.  He began wriggling his toes to
gently massage my temples.  Somebody had started licking and sucking on
my own feet.  No.  Not "somebody".  Both boys were sucking away at my
toes.  Boy was I hard.  I had to jack myself off ( the boys were clearly
doing each other).  I came in less than five minutes:  I was asleep in
less than ten.

The alarm clock woke me for work at seven.  Two dummies lay intertwined
on my bed.  I smiled.  Life would be better for Anthony from now on.  I
dressed quickly and left the room.
"See you later boys."