Natasha’s story (by ShockBob)

A special story ShockBob wrote to cheer up Natasha after she had a long night at work.

Natasha groaned as she leaned against the counter. With a feeling of exasperation her eyes wandered across her bar, at the clutter that sprawled across her bar. It was this time of the evening she always found herself wishing she hadn’t worn her heels; she had little desire to be on her feet without the pain in her legs. She sighed and crossed the bar to grab what plates and pitchers remained.
As she did so she passed by the only remaining inhabitant of her bar; a man wearing a denim jacket with dark brown hair messily spurting from underneath a baseball cap. The remaining patrons had all gone home as she had closed up shop ten minutes ago, yet this man had not seemed to muster the energy to roust himself. Natasha had waived off the doorman and sent him home for the night when he had moved to lift him from his stool and toss him out in the street; he was far too lifeless to make her feel threatened, and she felt pity for him as he slumped miserably by the bar. Natasha did her usual passable job of wiping down the tables and walked over to his side, putting her elbows on the bar next to his. “I hate to tell you this, hon, but I’m going home. You’re going to have to take the party somewhere else.”
The man feebly stirred, and looked sadly in her direction. “Oh..I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you.” The man shifted to lift himself from his stool, but Natasha put her hand on his shoulder, permitting him to stay seated. She was curious as to what could drive a man to such misery. “Hey, I was just teasing. I’m not in a hurry. Why don’t you keep me company a little longer?” She smiled warmly at the man, though her expression only seemed to bring tears to his eyes. “Come on baby, tell me what’s the matter.”
The man let out a cry of despair; Natasha’s invitation combined with a night of drinking alone seemed to bring the pain out from the depths of his soul. “I just don’t know what to do anymore. My girlfriend left me, she wouldn’t even tell me why…I was sure she was the one for me, the one who would make me never have to be alone anymore. I can’t deal with feeling lonely anymore, I just want someone, anyone…” His voice drifted off and he looked up at Natasha with tears in his eyes.
Natasha felt a wave of compassion wash over her as she smiled down at the man. She had seen this so many times before in her line of work. A man who could not find happiness because he craved to be taken in by a woman, to be taken care of and never be forgotten. Like so many men, he would never find joy because he had been born in the wrong form; he was not meant to exist as a man, he was meant to be something else.
Natasha stroked the man’s face. “Please don’t cry. I promise, you’ll never be alone again. I’m going to take you home and keep you nice and safe.” The man’s sad eyes turned to a look of puzzlement, though as always Natasha thought she saw a glint of recognition and readiness as well. “Look deep into my eyes.” The man did as he was told, and as he did he began to shrink. His arms crumpled into his lap and began to melt away. His eyes started to fade and inch away from her own as he grew shorter. He tottered in his stool as his legs collapsed, but she reached into his shirt and plucked him out of his clothes by his shoulders. The man’s sad eyes could only stare at her as his body flattened and became hollow and smooth, the remaining flesh disappeared until a pretty little cotton dress was all that remained.
Even though she had done this many times before, Natasha could not help but wonder at her creation. Alive, yet dependent and helpless. Male, yet utterly feminine. She gave him a playful little shake with her fingers to see his fabric form dance before her. She ceased her motion and he became utterly still, like a child ordered to settle himself. He was as he was always meant to be; a pretty little piece of property meant to be owned and cherished by a woman, meant to be loved and yet utterly insignificant.
She closed her eyes and focused her mind, she could feel the confusion and fear that were the man’s emotions. As she focused herself she could sense the man’s voice whimpering for help. “What did you do to me? Please put me down!”
“There, there little guy” she cooed, giving the dress a reassuring twirl. “Calm down, there’s no reason for you to be upset. Like I promised, I’m going to take good care of you. I turned you into a dress, and I’m taking you home with me. I’m going to put you away in my closet for a few days so you can get used to what it’s like to be a dress.”
“You turned me into a dress?” The man’s voice was thick with humiliation. Natasha was certain he had been embarrassed by females many times before, though never quite like this. “I don’t want to be a dress, please turn me back. I won’t tell anyone what you did, I promise. This isn’t what I wanted-“
“Of course it is!” Natasha spun in a circle, causing her new dress to fly through the air before floating back down to dangle in her fingers. “You want a woman who will cherish you and care for you and keep you safe. But a woman doesn’t want those things from a man. A woman wants a man who can take action, who can meet her needs, who can make show a woman love and not just accept love. You could never do those things, and so no woman would take you. But it was never your fault, because you weren’t meant to be a man. You were meant to be a dress. Now you belong to me, and there’s nothing for you to do but be worn, and be cleaned, and be controlled, and be cared for. You are what you were always meant to be.
Natasha could feel the pain that her words caused him. Since she could sense his emotions, she knew that she had stung him to the core, and that he knew she was right about what he was. Words seemed to fail the dress, and she could only hear weeping in his thoughts.
Natasha gave him a reassuring smile. The poor dress was adapting to his fate more poorly than most. Most men readily surrendered their old existences and were happily to exist in their inanimate forms in her closet. “I’ll tell you what. In a few days we’ll talk again. By then you’ll be ready for me to keep you.” Natasha expected this was the truth; within days most men would accept their new existences and their minds would quickly fade away. At the same time Natasha had been touched by just how pitiful and resistant he had been; she wondered if she might actually find herself playing with this one again later. She crisply folded him and tucked him away in her purse as she walked out the door, locking the bar behind her and heading home.

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