The Impostor - Cutout TF
Tags: Inanimate, Clothing TF, Unaware, Flattening, Object TF, Objectification, Bikini, Cutout TF
The sun cooked the sand bone white while Amie crouched over the tenth lounger, scrubbing old sunscreen off the plastic slats. Her long black hair stuck to her neck in damp ropes, straight and shiny like spilled ink, hanging past her waist. She blew a strand off her red eyes and tugged the knot in h…
The sun cooked the sand bone white while Amie crouched over the tenth lounger, scrubbing old sunscreen off the plastic slats. Her long black hair stuck to her neck in damp ropes, straight and shiny like spilled ink, hanging past her waist. She blew a strand off her red eyes and tugged the knot in her white tee where it pinched her belly. Her chest was big and her face was small and soft, the kind of girl people looked at twice. 'This job is killing me,' she thought. 'I thought it would be easy money and now I work my ass off and never get to chill!' "Amie." A coworker made her jump. "Manager wants you in his office NOW! I will take over." She sighed. "Yeah... I am already on my way..." The walk past the tiki bar made her stomach twist. Two guests waved at her and she had to wave back and smile and her face went hot, because talking to strangers always made her chest tight and her words come out wrong. By the time she reached the office her hands were shaking a little. The office was cold and smelled like cigars and stale coffee. Mr. Calloway waved her into the chair. "Hello, Amie. Good day? You did your work, so it is fine, we will not have that discussion again..." He tapped a pen. "But I have a special job. I think you would be perfect." 'Please not the front desk,' she begged inside. 'Anything but talking to people all day. I will die.' "We want you to be the cutouts around the resort and the shops." "Whaaa... Whaaat? Cutouts? Like a model?" "No. Like a cutout. We got some TF tech, banned in a few states. They like to gatekeep useful stuff you know. You would look great. All the visitors looking at you, and you do not say a single word." That last part landed soft and good in her chest. No talking or small talk. No drunk men asking her name. No coworkers cornering her at lunch. She still had two weeks, and the last week was free chill time in her work deal. The idea of just standing there, silent, with nobody able to make her speak, felt like a warm bath. "Hmmm... Okay, weird. But sure. I heard that the tech is amazing." "We have not tried it. My nephew says it is crazy. Go to the printers." The printer room hummed. A thin young man named Renzo bent over a fridge sized machine with a glass front. A tingle brushed her skin when she stepped in. "Oh, it is you." He shoved a pink bikini at her chest. "Put this on. I needed to finish three hours ago." "Wa... Wait, wait? Can you tell me wha... what it does?" He just pushed her toward the curtain. Her nerves jumped, but she did it anyway, because she always went quiet and went along. The pink strings bit her hips. She stepped onto the marked spot inside the glass. "Point your right hand right." She did it on command. "Smile too." It came out shaky. FWMMMP The white light fired and the change hit before the glow faded, a warm prickle spreading under her skin like a soft live wire. Then everything locked. She could see and feel and think, but she could not blink or move. Renzo stepped close and his breath washed warm across her surface, huge and strange. "She came out great. Just like planned." There was nothing to be scared of now. Nobody could ask her anything dumb. Nobody expected words from her and she could be unbothered. She was a thing, and things did not have to be brave. 'Oh,' she thought, almost dreamy. 'This is. This is kind of nice. Nobody can make me talk or do stuff.' "But we need more of those." Renzo read the screen. "Copying a transformed person makes full copies. Find the right one at the end..." He laughed. "So sci-fi!" He touched the panel. Cardboard crawled up over her. FFSSHK Flat and dry across her whole body. When he peeled the copies off she felt each one rip away with a tug deep in her core, like losing little slices of herself. "Here. Let me mark you." He drew a big black X on her back with a squeaky marker. "We could turn you back, but my uncle is fed up with you being so shy. He just wants you standing around. Sorry about that." He set her with the copies and carried them off one by one. Outside, the warm air pressed flat against her front and the sun lay on her like a heavy blanket. A glossy protection film covered her so she did not feel raw like bare cardboard, more like a slick warm coat that hummed faintly when the breeze moved over it. She could see the whole beach, the blue water, the umbrellas, the little kids running. People walked right up close, looked at her body and then walked away. Not one of them said a word to her or asked for the reception. 'This is the most relaxed I have felt in months,' she thought and she really meant it. The old shy girl who froze up at the register, who could not order coffee without stammering, she was gone. There was nothing to perform. A man stared at her chest for a long moment and she did not blush, did not look away, did not feel her throat close up. She just stood there, calm and still and quiet. 'I could honestly do this forever. No talking or making mistakes. Just standing in the sun.'
