CHAPTER ONE by gildsoul

      She could always see her reflection in one of the many huge mirrors and even the windows
      along the walls, a solid gold statue in an erotic pose standing upon an gold pedestal. She
      along with all the others so transformed had been carefully placed so that the souls inside
      their inanimate bodies would have their pleasure enhanced by seeing how beautiful they
      looked as statues. Sharon sighed inwardly in constant joy at the reflected image of her
      precious metal body, she looked good and felt good, heaven was not a place but a state of
      being, she was truly in heaven!

      She marveled at the glinting rays as they reflected off her shinny metal form, sparkling off the
      golden strands of hair on her head and her pleasure. Gleaming gold the most precious of
      metals, she looked and felt literally as "good as gold". Day and night, rain or shine, with the
      changing of the seasons the light was always slowly changing, always wonderfully different
      and entertaining as she watched how the light changed the look of her metallic body.

      She watched the slowly fading light she had countless times before over the decades, never
      bored, always joyous as the cool light of deepening twilight dimmed the art gallery. Soon the
      cool weak light of nighttime would darken the interior and the cold sparkle of the moon and
      stars would shine through the window glass.

      Sharon thought back years ago to the wonderful day when she was granted the astonishing
      gift of immortality by a magical being of incredible power and grace. Who every day visited
      his private art gallery in a vast castle located in mystical timeless astral plane out of the reach
      of mortals. Sometimes to deposit a new addition to the gigantic gallery, only those rare
      beautiful women that he deemed perfect enough to be preserved forever by being magically
      transformed into precious substances and given true eternal life. Sharon remembered the
      pivotal day when she met the wizard, warlock or sorcerer whatever he was who changed
      her life forever...

CHAPTER TWO by ArgoForg

      The perfect time of year for pounding the pavement, in other words, she thought with just
      the slightest bit of chagrin. Traffic was snarled at every light, where throngs of pedestrians
      were crossing. Street vendors were in full force along 52nd, and the last store she'd been in
      for an interview had crushed her in a room with eight other people also seeking work.
      Apparently, she hadn't been the only one who decided today would be a good day for
      job-hunting.

      She was only a block away from the latest opportunity she had circled in pencil from the
      classified section of the Times. Compared to most of the other quarter-page and logo-filled
      ads, this one was simple and unassuming:

ARTIST'S ASSISTANT NEEDED
long hours but great aesthetic gratification.
Jean Blanche Studios, 5340 Bleeker St.

      And as much as she wanted a white-collar job, the idea of working for an artist was
      intriguing. She'd had a couple semesters of graphic art in college and had loved it, but she
      had discarded the idea of getting a degree in it because she didn't think the money was
      there. She remembered how much she enjoyed the thought of looking at a creation of her
      own and knowing that it was, only days ago, a blank sheet of paper or canvas. There was
      immense satisfaction to the creation side of it.

      The building that housed Jean Blanche Studios was as simple and unassuming as the ad had
      been. It was a quiet tri-level structure, placed in between two larger buildings. As she
      entered, she saw immediately that the only person in the reception area was a young woman
      at a desk, and for a moment she feared the position had already been taken.

      "Excuse me," Sharon said, making her way up to the desk, "but I saw this ad in the paper
      and I was wondering...?"

      Sharon trailed off as the young woman glanced up and down at her, in a way that made
      Sharon feel a little uncomfortable for a moment.

      "Yes," she said with a wide smile. "The position's still open. And I think Jean will be very
      satisfied with you."

CHAPTER THREE by cmq

      "What?" Sharon thought she heard something other than what Michelle had said.

      "You know, personal assistant," Michelle smiled. It was an enigmatic smile, sort of teasing. As if she was a cat who had
      just swallowed a canary and was trying to hide that fact from the world.

      Sharon followed her into the studio and noticed many completed works of art. There was an empty modeling stand in
      the center, with various pedestals, some occupied by sculptures under cloth tarps, along the side wall. The other wall
      was open, with huge windows which let in the natural light. Sharon looked around the sparsely decorated studio and
      wondered why there were no works by the artist on display.

      "I'll let Jean know you're here," Michelle said as she strode to a closed door on the other side of the studio. Her short
      skirt was in danger of revealing the crack of her butt as she walked away from Sharon.

      Sharon watched as Michelle knocked on the door, entered and closed the door behind her. It was so quiet in the
      studio. Sharon waited, taking in the fantastic view of the buildings through the windows. She waited a little longer, and
      started getting curious as to what was under the cloth tarps. She walked over to the closest one and looked around.
      Still no one around. She lifted the bottom of one end and peeked at the sculpture underneath and saw the delicate,
      alabaster white toes of a statue. Intrigued, Sharon lifted the tarp carefully off the entire figure, revealing a beautifully
      stunning marble nude. "Oh my..." she gasped, her breath taken away by the elegant female statue.

      Sharon reached out and touched the cold marble 'skin' on the statue's hip and felt it was smooth as a baby's bottom.
      She ran her hand across the silky smooth stone buttocks to the front of the immobile work of art. It even has pubic
      hair! she marveled. So delicately sculpted, so fragile-looking, so...sexy. She couldn't keep her hands off the statue for
      some reason. It was soooo realistic. She moved her hands up and cupped the all-too real breasts and traced the
      nipples. She could feel the texture of the skin, the way the aureoles became slightly bumpier around the erect nipples. As
      she stared into the lovely marble face her examination of the statue was interrupted by a tap on her shoulder.

      "Excuse me," a deep voice spoke.

      "EEK!" Sharon almost hit the ceiling. She whirled around to face a dark haired man with curly long hair. He had a dark
      tan and was quite dreamy...

      "I'm Jean Blanche, the sculptor? I hear you are interested in posing for me?"

      "Oh, ah, yes..." Sharon tried to regain her shaken wits. "Um I'm sorry I peeked at your lovely statue...I just couldn't
      resist...my curiosity got the better of me..."

      "Do not apologize," he said with a slight French accent. "My work is designed to be seen. I am just in the process of
      moving some of my work and I did not want them to be damaged."

      "Oh, you're moving them to another studio?" Sharon asked.

      "Something like that," Jean smiled.

      "They're so...lifelike...How do you sculpt them so perfectly?" Sharon asked. She couldn't take her eyes off the nude
      statue. "I've never seen anything at all like this," she traced the lines of the statue's inner thigh.

      Jean reached down and delicately took Sharon's hand in his own. He leaned over slightly and kissed the back of her
      hand. "Ah, if you are so curious, perhaps you will model for me and find out, no?"

CHAPTER FOUR by Ruckus

      "So, what do you say to that, milady?"

      She almost had not heard his voice, being that she seemed to be adrift to some distant place or other.

      "Do you want to satiate your curiosity?" Jean Blanche asked.

      Finally coming back to full consciousness, Sharon took note of her hand being slightly gripped by this enigmatic artiste
      and pulled it away. Her self -possession seemed to be returned to her after its momentary lapse.

      This man looked at her expectantly, like a pet awaiting a treat for performing cutesy tricks to an appreciative audience.

      Sharon felt a sudden cool chill graze about her body and she shivered. "I--I'm not sure I'm prepared to do this . . ."

      "Of course you are," Jean assured her, his voice so coaxing, so . . .magical. His eyes were a deep shade of blue, like
      arctic ice under a fool moon. His gaze was a powerful one, it too seemed coaxing; influential. He reached for both of
      her hands. She gave an apprehensive pull, yet relented.

      She sighed, "What is it about you?"

      "It is not my essence that is the power in question here. It is yours. You see, you have a natural gift, a raw quality that is
      yet to be harnessed. It takes a certain kind of artiste to harvest the crop that is your beauty. I am that artiste, milady.
      Pose for me, and I will show you your gift as well as my own.

      Again, Sharon was frozen by his voice, his gaze. He seemed to be speaking not only to her but to her very soul.

      And it was listening intently. It wanted to respond in kind. Sharon herself could not seem to utter any words.

      "Together, you and I can create a harmony so exquisite and untouched by the corruption of modesty. It will be
      magnificent."

CHAPTER FIVE by Drake

      "You have made me so very happy." Jean's voice rolled out, washing over her like a wave of tropical water, the sheer
      weight of his words resonating through her body. He produced a sketchbook and pencil and pulled up a stool opposite
      the pedestal.

      "What should I do?" Sharon asked quietly.

      "We are harvesting your beauty my dear." Jean licked the tip of his pencil. "Close your eyes and listen to my voice and
      soon all will become apparent to you." The slow rich sound of his voice send licks of cool fire through her body and
      she relaxed slightly, and let her eyelids close. "Picture yourself on a beach, the golden sand is hot on your feet, can you
      feel it?"

      "No.." Sharon was puzzled. "I still have my shoes on."

      "Of course you do," Jean spoke slowly, pausing as Sharon shifted slightly, kicking off her high heels and resuming her
      pose, a slow smile spreading across her features. "Yes, it is pleasant isn't it, golden sun, golden sand, can you see the
      waves."

      "They're gold too." She spoke haltingly.

      "Beautiful waves of gold, slowly lapping against the sand. You really don't need to speak anymore." Jean cautioned
      her. "The sunlight is warm on your face, and a gentle breeze is blowing, cooling your skin, the contrast of temperatures
      a sensual counterpoint to the sound of the waves."

      His smile became feral as Sharon's hands slowly rose to her blouse and began undoing the buttons that closed it over
      her breasts. Her breath was coming faster. "Yes, it does feel good doesn't it?" He watched entranced as Sharon
      undressed slowly, each garment that fell away revealing more of her perfect body. Soon she was naked, her lovely
      flesh shining with a thin layer of sweat. She moaned slightly.

      "The tide is coming in." Jean continued in honeyed tones. "Golden waters brushing against your feet," Sharon shivered
      with delight as the waters caressed her feet, leaving the flesh cool. "Each wave climbs higher and higher, sliding
      sensuously over your skin, your desire is increasing isn't it?"

      Sharon nodded, her right hand sliding down to caress her body. Jean watched with growing enjoyment as he spoke,
      with each passing moment she became more beautiful, the essence of her body being changed from fragile, mortal flesh,
      to the eternal beauty of gold. Already her long, shapely legs had succumbed, the caressing hand and the flesh underneath
      it had been frozen in the perfect image of self-fulfillment. The rising tide of gold continued to sweep upwards, hardening
      her taut belly and washing over her breasts and the excited, peaked nipples....

CHAPTER SIX by dmuk

      She had guessed somehow, abstractly, how this marvelous sculptor had created his masterpieces the instant she had
      touched that marble statue and felt an essence within the cold hard stone. The possibility had thrilled her to the very
      core of her being. Sharon's only fear then was that it was just a foolish dream. Now, in the midst of becoming one of
      those artworks, she was euphoric.

      Moment by moment the golden tide washed over her lovely form, hardening each curve and feature into rigid
      permanence. Like a seabird in front of a wave, her free hand flew upwards across her body. Each brief touch brought
      the glint of metal to her neck, face and head before she paused while tousling her already golden locks. The wave of
      ultimate bliss started to crest over her.

      "Ohhhh Ahhhhhiee" Sharon wailed as the most intense climax she ever felt gripped her senses. Her last movements
      came as she arched her back and a rapt expression of joy glowed upon her transforming features. Then she did not
      move. Sharon's thoughts continued to race as she realized the moment of ecstasy had somehow been captured.
      Preserved forever along with her immortalized beauty.

      Jean Blanche at last looked up from the pad where he had concentrated his thoughts while sculpting the girl. The paper
      had not a mark on it, but the dazzling vision of amorous pulchritude that he saw was more lovely than he could have
      ever imagined, or drawn. "Ah, C'est Magnifique!" The artist had spoken the absolute truth to her earlier. Her subtle
      elegant beauty was something that could only be harvested, not captured by crude strokes of any pen or brush.
      He approached his latest masterpiece slowly, respectfully. Her transmuted figure was still warm to the touch. The
      hardened skin of her solidified body felt slightly moist though he knew every molecule of her being had become gold.
      Carefully, with a soft cloth, he began to polish the statue until she gleamed.

CHAPTER SEVEN by litabear

      Sharon would have forever to remember that day, and all the days after, when she stood, happily watching her gilded
      body reflect the light of the sun, moon, and stars. She had no regrets about being immortally frozen, because she was
      happier than she'd ever been in her mortal life, and a feeling of sheer and perfect ecstasy would remain with her
      forever.

      Forever. She rolled the word around in her mind and marveled that she had been chosen, that her beauty, both within
      and without, had been deemed perfect enough to preserve for eternity.

      Tomorrow was the day Jean-Blanche would come and visit his private gallery, probably bringing another statue to add
      to the collection. Sharon relished the thought of seeing his handsome face and feeling his soft, strong hands caress her
      body. A shooting star passed the window, and she smiled inwardly. He was the reason she was here, he was her
      savior and creator and lover, all in one. She knew that the only way to thank him was to let her inner beauty shine
      through, so Sharon did just that.

      Sharon felt a smooth warmth sliding up her hardened body, from her small toes to her golden hair. She watched the
      sun's bright, warm rays as they illuminated, one by one, each statue in the gallery. They fell on a dark form at the far
      end, a moving form. It must be Jean! Sharon felt a fresh wave of ecstasy engulf her as the figure moved closer, hands
      outstretched in anticipation.

      "Hello, mon cherie," Jean-Blanche said with a smile, taking her smooth perfect hand in his and kissing it gently. "How
      have the days passed for you? You are more beautiful than ever today. I have a surprise for you, amor. You are going
      to be moved to an even more wonderful place than this, a place very few statues are brought. I shall be back for you
      this afternoon. Bonjour."

      He caressed her gold-hardened cheek, sliding his hand down her body, past her firm breasts and her stomach to the
      curly hair that held one of her hands, lingering for one last moment on the thin fingers of her free hand; and then turned
      to tend to his other statues.

      Sharon's mind raced with anticipation. She wondered what place could possibly be more beautiful than this....?