No

 “No! Are you kidding? You turned me into a chick! I am NOT HAPPY” You yell in discontent.

The machine fell silent and calculated for a second before coming back online.

“UNDERSTOOD... YOU DO NOT WANT TO BE A BRIDESMAID. ALTERNATE OPTION SELECT”

“Thank you” you say, smugly before the robotic arms grab you once more.

They start taking your clothes off, slipping the heels aside, removing the dress, and pulling the panties away. It leaves the bra on for some reason as the machine speaks up again.

“ALTERNATE OPTION SELECTED... BRIDAL SHOP WINDOW MODEL....”

“Wait, what does that mean” You ask.

Something emerges from the floor. It’s a big rectangular metal plate with a long metal rod welded to the back, sticking up with a very long metal dildo at the end. Stuck to the base plate are two metallic heels with a strappy style. Looking inside, you see a viscous substance sloshing around in the soles. The arms take hold of your legs and begin moving them into the heels, pressing them in and holding until the glue is dried. You would notice that if it wasn’t for the dildo being pressed inside of your pussy. The shoes are stuck down is such a way that the rod naturally goes right up your crotch.

The machine then gets to work, pulling the pony tail out of your hair and moving it around so that a bit of it is in the front. A nozzle emerged from the ceiling and started spraying you with a thick, clear goo of some sort. You try to writhe out of this scenario, but your feet are stuck, your crotch even more stuck with a literal stick up your pussy. The arms force you into a pose, your left arm on your hip and your right arm down before a lamp glows on the areas. You feel the substance hardening, and as it does it becomes more and more difficult to move. Your face is still free, so you plead.

“P...please... stop...” you whimper.

“FACIAL EXPRESSION NOT SATISFACTORY... AWAIT MOTIVATION”

With that, you start feeling vibrations increase as the dildo begins to purr. It’s ok at first, but soon after starting, it begins thrusting in and out with faster and faster speeds. It feels incredibly strange, but somehow also good. The waves of pleasure move through you as the false cock fills you up, faster and faster until the mounting pressure is unbearable. Your eyes almost roll back in your head and you scream, your first orgasm as a woman complete. As the pleasure dissipated, your face turned to a calmer smile, and that’s when the lamp hit you. You felt your face and hair settling in place as you could no longer move.

The machine had basically covered you in a thin layer of lacquer. Any onlooker would think you were just a really realistically painted mannequin, and you were terrified. You tried to cry, but your eyes could no longer move enough to shed a tear. You tried to scream, but your mouth would not make the shape.

“DEMONSTRATE DAILY FEEDING SUBROUTINE.”

From the base of the mannequin stand emerged a long arm holding a long, white dildo. It moved up to your mouth and inserted itself, thrusting in and out before ejecting a load of some milky substance down your throat. You couldn’t taste it because the dildo had gone so far down, but you felt it hit your stomach and fill you up a bit. Like that, the dildo disappeared back into the mannequin stand.

The floor opened and began to lower you into a dark room. After a few days of waiting in the dark and still not getting used to not only the daily feedings, but the daily fuckings from the stick up your vagina, you felt the room move. You heard men grabbing the box you were in and loading you onto a truck. The trip took several more days, but finally, you were opened up by a woman. She was older and wore glasses resting on the tip of her nose. She inspected her new Mannequin and nodded, grabbing a short red bridesmaid dress and fitting it onto you. It had a low-cut neckline with sleeves that hung down over your shoulders and pockets, which were handy for placing the hand glued to your hip.

She wheeled you out and placed you in a big window next to 2 other mannequins that looked weirdly similar to you. You looked straight ahead as if you could do anything else and watched the people walk by day after day, month after month, year after year. Though the outfits changed with the seasons, you stayed static, unmoving. Your internal screaming ended long ago, and now you embraced your fate.

You were a mannequin, and you were beautiful.

The End.