WARNING: If you don't like stories where the cheater gets away with it or gets forgiven for it, this story and many others in my catalog are not for you. Unless otherwise labeled, my stories are fiction no marriage has been endangered to create this story. This is not our universe though it has similarities. STD's are not an issue in this universe, unless they feature in the story line.
The Dress
I come aware while still on the sewing machine. The last of my parts are connected. I feel the pain where my fabric has been cut. Then a zipper is sewn in, and a large button attached. I am placed on a hangar and hung on a rack. The rack has wheels and I and several other dresses talk back and forth as we come to understand our place.
We have been created by a young designer. He is creating a portfolio of sexy dresses for a show. We are rolled into a room, and one by one a model will select one and put it on. We understand that these are not "The ONE we are created for." When my turn comes, our creator marks me up and I am sent back for more work. Bits are cut off and others unstitched and moved. Then back to the room with the models.
Our creator looks at me a second time. "I don't know." He says "It is OK, put it early in the show. It can warm up the audience for the best ones." I am afraid. I really like being wrapped around a woman. It is what I was designed for. But the rumors are that dresses that fail are sent to an incinerator and burned. I don't want to be burned.
I am placed into a box. It is really hard to tell time when you are in a box, it is dark and nothing happens.
The box is opened, I am hung on a rack. A woman comes by collects me and irons me smooth. It makes me feel better, wanted. For three days I sit on the rack. People are milling around and I talk to a couple of old dresses. Vintage dresses that will open the show. I learn that they are ten and fourteen years old. I am told that the life span of a dress is usually less than five years.
Show day and a model pulls me off the rack. She is wearing panties that match my color. She steps into me, pulls the top parts up and connects them behind her neck. Fiddles around, positioning her breasts under the two arms of my top. Each arm starts at the back of the hip, wraps around over a breast and across a shoulder to the point at the top where my one button connects them. A zipper at the back is done up, and my faux belt is tightened at the front. The model has a bare back, and a bare stomach. My skirt extends down a few inches below the bottom of the model's panties.
We walk the runway, cameras flash. We turn around and walk back. I am removed and tossed onto a pile of other dresses. A woman comes by and hangs me on the rack. My 30 seconds of fame.
The next day the designer comes by looks at each of us and assigns me to the store. I go into a box.
I am taken out of the box, and hung on a rack. I realize I have a special hangar, that does not look like other hangars. My hangar also did not realize he was special. We are displayed in a window. The sun warms my cream color. A price tag is added. $5,000.00.
Women come in some fondle me, and one tries me on. After a week I move to hanging on the wall, deeper in the store. My price tag is removed. The new one says $3,000.00. More women fondle me, and two more try me on. After a week I am removed from the wall, and put on a rack with other dresses. I am no longer on display the women have to find me. It is scary. If I don't find the ONE, I will go to the incinerator. My new price tag says $2,000.00.
Finally, I am moved to a discount rack. My next stop is the incinerator. My price tag has an added sticker 50% off.
It is Wednesday, my last day on the rack will be Friday. I am distraught, nobody has tried me on since I was on the wall. Two women enter the store, they wander the racks and one of them pulls me out. "Liz, come look at this one, a real Fuck Me dress." This is the first time I have heard the term a Fuck Me dress.
Liz comes over, fondles me. Her friend says "Try it on, I think it might be just what you're looking for." We enter the change room. She undresses, puts on the panties that are also on my hangar. None of the others have done this. I feel like I really fit her. None of the others left me feeling this. She steps out and her friend gasps. "Oh my god, you'll get fucked on the dance floor. Nobody will want to wait to take you home."
She looks in the mirror. "I think you are right." She returns to the change room, and puts me back on the hangar, along with the panties. I have not talked much with the panties; they are not very smart. But the panties are ecstatic. Never have they felt such a good fit. I feel it too. We are taken to the counter, paid for, and put into a box, along with panties and hangar. We have found the ONE. Her name is Liz.
I am hung in a closet with other dresses, some are snooty, but most feel that Liz is a good owner, and I should feel lucky. The oldest is a vintage shirt more than two decades old. While the closet is mostly dark, we can see the movement of the sunlight, and Liz opens up the door regularly. I come to learn the days of the week. On Friday afternoon, Liz gets me out and puts me and the panties on. "OK, lets see what you can do. Will you attract men as much as Jenny thinks." A jacket is added from another closet and we are off. The jacket is old, going on five years now. He only comes out when it is colder out. He spends the summers in the closet.
The lounge is at the top of the arts building on campus. Liz and Jenny join two other girls, April and Rose. We get a table for four and order drinks. Music starts and a man asks Liz to dance. Liz dances with him, and he stokes her back, reaching down he pulls her bum into him. His other hand finds its way between me and her breast. She pulls him out "Too soon sailor." She only dances one dance with him. She returns to the table. "The bugger groped my breast on the first dance. Avoid him."
Several more men dance with Liz before she goes back to another table, one with several men. She sits on his lap, and they kiss. After they have been kissing a while, the hand finds its way between me and the breast, but this time Liz allows it. After some time and a couple more drinks, Liz is getting drunk. He suggests they find someplace more private. Liz gets up and they take the elevator down to the basement parking area. Liz leans against the wall and shoves her butt out. He lifts my skirt up and pulls down the panties, they fall to the ground. He gets his penis out and after rubbing her until she moans, he sticks his penis inside her. They thrash around for a few minutes both of them moaning. Then Liz starts shaking, and he thrusts hard into her. Both of them get loud. He pulls out. A white goo comes out of Liz. She pulls up panties. Panties complain to me that the goo is getting all over them.
Liz turns around but the guy is gone. She returns to the table with her friends. Jenny has spilled something red on her baby blue dress. The dress is moaning and complaining that the 'wine' is staining her. All of us gather up and head home. Panties go into the laundry basket. I go back on my hangar. Apparently, I will go to the drycleaners.
The drycleaner is fun, and I feel rejuvenated when I get back. Panties complain that the laundry was little fun. Just a lot of sloshing around in soapy water.
I settle into a routine, Fridays we go dancing, and Liz gets fucked. She really seems to like it. Occasionally she will find a second man and do it again before we leave. Sometimes we do it again on a Saturday night, but not as frequently as on Fridays.
About a year in, we don't go home. We go to John's place. I spend the night on the floor, but I can hear Liz and John. When they fuck doggy or cowgirl I can see them on the bed. Both are naked. There is a lot of the white goo. Sometimes it goes into her mouth, usually into her pussy, and once into her ass. The next day I hear them in the kitchen. Then John's roommate Ben comes in, and Liz scoots into the bedroom and puts panties and me on. Then we head home. Liz does not have a roommate, and her bed is larger than John's.
John becomes a fixture. He tells her to get rid of panties. They go into the underwear drawer, but I never see them again. After two weeks, we are walking back to Liz's place when they decide to have sex against a tree. Ben shows up, and John offers him the chance to have sex with Liz, so he gets something called sloppy seconds. Liz is a bit confused about this. When we get home, I am thrown on the chair and they have sex on the bed. Finally, Liz sends him home.
