EURYALE

By RM

Part 1

"You know, you have a really gorgeous body."

"W-What?!" Lisa said, her voice a little thick. She'd been sitting in the club for hours, drinking margaritas and feeling sorry for herself. Her boyfriend Michael had left her for another woman a week ago, and although tonight she'd finally been able to force herself to go out, not a single guy had made a pass. She was in the mood for some meaningless sex, and couldn't find it. By this late hour, she was quite drunk.

"I said, you've got a beautiful body," the voice repeated from the stool beside her. "I'm a sculptor, and I was sitting across the club and couldn't help but notice how perfect a figure you have."

This was really too much. Lisa turned to see who this secret admirer was. A tall, elegant woman was seated next to her. Her hair was hidden in a silky purple turban, and she wore an archaic-looking outfit consisting of a sleeveless tunic and a long, flowing sarong. Her face was lovely, its features sharply-defined, almost regal. Her skin was of a dark olive complexion, and her figure was voluptuous. Strangest of all, she wore a pair of dark sunglasses even in the dimness of the nightclub. What an odd woman, Lisa thought.

Buzzed, Lisa sang, "'I wear my sunnnn-glasses at night...'"

"Oh, these," the woman said, her slender hand straying upward to adjust the black lenses. "Call them an artists' affectation."

"Who the hell are you?" Lisa blurted. The woman stiffened a little, and she immediately regretted the outburst. Oh god, Lisa thought drunkenly, I'm making a total ass of myself.

"My name is Euryale," the woman answered, politely ignoring her obvious inebriation. "As I said, I am a sculptor. Primarily, I do female nudes. You have such a perfect figure I had to come over and ask you if you'd like to model for me, for a sculpture." Lisa noticed the woman had a trace of an accent, one she couldn't place. Like her dress, it was strange and archaic. Romanian? Greek?

"Wait -- you think that -- I -- would make a nice statue?"

"Yes," Euryale replied. "You've stated it precisely."

"Wow, I'm really flattered. I..." Lisa trailed off, lost in her

thoughts. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. No guys had been interested in her all night, and now this gorgeous (but weird, her mind added) woman wanted to see her nude? To sculpt a statue of her? She thought it over. She thought of her loneliness, of her need for sex and companionship, of the clinched relationship between artist and model she'd seen in so many movies. And she'd always had a strange attraction to statues...

"Okay!" Lisa exclaimed. "I'll do it!"

"Excellent," Euryale seemed to hiss. "Let's go back to my place, and we can get to know one another a little better."

An hour later, Lisa was slowly pulling her lips away from Euryale's after a long, passionate kiss. Again she thought to herself that this was all moving very fast and that she was very drunk, but somehow she couldn't make herself care. She'd never been attracted to a woman before, but the longer she and Euryale talked and explored each other's bodies, the more she wanted to sleep with her. Lisa thought back on the whole evening.

Euryale's "place" had turned out to be a small private gallery located on an out-of-the-way street in the city's expensive, artsy west side. After Euryale unlocked the door, she led Lisa quickly through the small gallery full of nude marble sculptures, all extremely lifelike. Lisa had paused there, her pussy moistening as she looked at all the statuary, but Euryale had hurried her past the gleaming white bodies and taken her upstairs to her private apartment on the second floor. The big, airy loft was sparsely but comfortably furnished, decorated mostly with hanging Greek tapestries and even more stone nudes. Lisa had realized suddenly that every statue she'd seen was life size, and they were so detailed. She'd shaken her head, embarrassed at herself for drinking too much and getting paranoid. Euryale had brought a bottle of expensive wine, and they had settled on the couch to begin to drink and to talk.

Euryale had slowly unbuttoned Lisa's blouse and begun teasing her hard nipples as she talked about her immigration from Greece, her tenure in art school, and her growing success as a sculptor, which had culminated in her opening this private gallery to sell her work. Lisa's hands had worked their way through Euryale's sarong to fondle her pussy as she described her own mindless nine-to-five job, her breakup with Michael, and her recent loneliness. They'd achieved an emotional intimacy about the same time that they'd both found themselves naked, and this closeness soon progressed to the awkward groping and mutual pleasure that Lisa had been missing since Michael's departure. She was surprised to realize she was falling in love with this strange, fascinating woman.

"You are as beautiful as I imagined," Euryale breathed during a break in their passion, her slim fingers teasing in and out of Lisa's wet pussy.

"And you're beautiful, too," Lisa answered as her hands moved over the muscular, olive-toned curves of Euryale's slender and athletic body. The artist's figure was sleek yet feminine, her small breasts firm and round and tipped with hard, almost-black nipples. Her legs were long and shaped by elongated muscles, and her moist vagina was a hairy treasure between her supple thighs. Despite her nudity, Euryale still wore the turban and the sunglasses.

"Why do you wear the sunglasses?" Lisa asked, her hands now kneading the other woman's wet pussy.

"Mmmmm, you'll find out if you pose for me," Euryale answered elliptically. "Do you still want me to make a statue of you?"

"Yes!" Lisa exclaimed, excited at the idea of her body being sculpted, being immortalized as a sculpture.

"Then go pose on that empty pedestal right now, Lisa."

"Okay!" Lisa said, now so drunk and so in love that she'd have jumped off a bridge if Euryale had only asked. She leaped up from the other woman's warm embrace and danced unsteadily away from the couch, finding her way over to a low square pedestal of dark granite. She giggled with excitement and stepped up onto the cold surface. She planted her bare feet firmly and settled into a statuesque pose, her breasts thrust out and her arms hanging down, hands alongside her slim hips. Her nipples hardened as she stood there and imagined Euryale carving a sculpture of her. "Okay, Euryale, how's this?"

The artist stood up from the plush couch and walked over to stand a few feet in front of Lisa, appraising her body and her pose with a critical eye. She moved Lisa's legs a little wider apart, and moved her left hand up to rest on her breast, the fingers casually curled around the erect nipple. Euryale stuck Lisa's other fingers into her pussy, teasing it until it was moist, loose and aroused. She moved Lisa's hand to rest on the smooth curve of her thigh, and stepped back.

"I think that will do nicely. Hold that pose."

"Okay," Lisa said, missing Euryale's smug last look as she stood concentrating remaining as still as she could. Her breasts heaved as she thought of being the model for one of these fantastic marble nudes. She waited...

Euryale took off her sunglasses.

Lisa looked into her eyes, and everything changed. Euryale's eyes were wide and staring, and they seemed too large, they seemed to encompass the whole of the universe. Rimmed with a bloody red, they were a vivid supernatural green. Lisa looked deep into those eyes, into the eldritch glow and the midnight pupils, unable to resist.

Lisa felt a tingling sensation spread through her body. At first it was arousing, and she smiled as she felt herself grow wet and her nipples grow rock-hard. She moved her hand closer to her pussy, her fingers just brushing the moist lips. But the tingling kept increasing, getting unpleasant, and her flesh started to feel cold and numb. She suddenly sensed something was wrong, her muscles were getting taut and heavy. She tried to move, to run, but found that her feet were rooted in place on the granite pedestal and that she was unable to move a single muscle. She wanted to cry out to Euryale, but she couldn't budge her beautiful face from that last smile. She felt as though the surface of her skin was electrified. She felt every muscle and tendon in her body flex and tighten, transfixing her in place. A crackling sound filled the air, and she felt her skin stiffen and her muscles harden. She watched from eyes she could no longer move as her tanned flesh paled, became streaked with veins of glittering mineral, and then faded to a pure, glossy white. She heard her lungs gasp a last rattling breath, and felt her heartbeat slow and then stop completely. Her white flesh took on a soft translucent shine as it transformed into solid stone, and then the crackling sound and tingling sensation faded away. Lisa stood frozen, turned into a marble nude.

She was a statue, her mind screamed. A living statue!

Euryale smiled and put her sunglasses back on. Her smile was smug and sarcastic as she pulled the purple turban from her head to reveal that her hair was a writhing, hissing mass of snakes. Asps! The artist stood and laughed as she looked over Lisa's petrified body. Her cold laughter exposed rows of needle-like teeth.

"Beautiful," she hissed, as behind the dark lenses the green glow faded from her eyes. She gazed hungrily over the frozen curves of Lisa's marble figure. "You make a lovely statue, Lisa. Just as I told you in the club, your figure is perfect. Truly a work of art."

Lisa tried desperately to step off the pedestal, to move, to run away from this monster. But it was useless -- her flesh had been turned into solid stone. Her lithe muscles were now only sculpted curves. Her limbs were rigid and unbending rock, fixed in that final pose. She was frozen forever in marble, her living body transformed into a motionless nude sculpture. A living statue. Oh god, Lisa thought within her stony prison, this can't be happening, this isn't real. But it was, she knew -- she had become a stone figure.

Petrified.

Euryale stepped closer to Lisa's statue, her eyes and then her slender fingers drifting over the petrified woman's cold white body. Her hand cupped one of Lisa's breasts, transformed now into a shiny globe of white marble and tipped by the alabaster pebble that had once been her erect nipple. Euryale caressed the bumpy oval of her frozen aureole, admiring its sculpted beauty. Lisa felt waves of pure ecstasy radiate from her stony breast. It felt like her petrified skin had become more sensitive than it had been in life.

"How does it feel to be stone, my dear Lisa? How does it feel to be a living work of art?" Euryale whispered into the marble folds of her petrified ear.

Lisa could not answer. Her sensuous lips were sealed in stone.

"Can't answer, hmm? Can't move?" the woman teased, her fingers moving over Lisa's stone flesh in a maddening dance of pleasure. She kneeled in front of her statue, knees on the granite pedestal, and stuck out her tongue and began to lick the cold stone lips of Lisa's marble pussy. Lisa felt a scream of pleasure surge through her fossilized figure and felt that if she were not stone she would have screamed in ecstasy. The sensation was incredible as Euryale's expert lips and tongue probed the marble crevasses of her sculpted pussy, her moist tongue darting in and out, exploring the stony contours of her frozen genitalia. Lisa felt her orgasm flare golden, heavenly, and focus down into her petrified sex, where it could find no release from her stone figure. She was now perfectly still and utterly dry, a rigid figure of sculpted marble. The pleasure grew and grew within her stone body until she felt that her living statue would simply shatter into countless marble fragments, unable to contain the pleasure any longer. She strained within the motionless stone monument that her body had become, her sleek muscles trying to move in some way, but she was captured utterly immobile in sculpted marble. Her whole anatomy vibrated with orgasmic energy, but she was petrified -- frozen into total rigidity as a silent motionless statue of solid marble.

Euryale stopped suddenly and stood up, and the orgasm faded away abruptly, at the moment she was completely aware of her condition as a solid marble sculpture. Lisa felt an incredible sense of release and relief, and she knew that nothing could ever equal the sensation of an orgasm while turned to stone. She watched Euryale's lovely naked body as she stepped back and looked over her living statue once again. Euryale's muscles slid languidly as she slowly walked around Lisa's petrified body, carefully appraising her rigid stone figure.

"Yes, Lisa, you are forever frozen as a living statue," she said. "The latest addition to my collection. Perhaps I neglected to introduce myself -- my name is Euryale, sister to Medusa, and one of the gorgons whose glance turns men to stone. Though my famous sibling was slain by that bastard Perseus, my sisters and I have lived on through the ages. Recently I decided to become a sculptor, the perfect profession for one of my talents, don't you think?"

Lisa wanted to answer, to swear at this evil creature, to simply scream -- but she could not. Her lips were closed, sealed forever in stone, just another part of her delicate sculpted face. She stared with fear and hatred through the blank white orbs that were her eyes.

"Yes, I know," Euryale hissed. "You cannot answer of course, your lips are carved in marble. But so beautiful... as beautiful as the rest of your fossilized body. You make an exquisite statue, Lisa. I think you may be one of my finest works." The medusa laughed, filling the room with echoes of malicious mirth. Her needle-like teeth glittered in the dim candlelight of the apartment.

"Now, let's go downstairs," the creature said.

Euryale wrapped her warm muscular arms around the sculpted contours of Lisa's statue, heaving her marble figure off the floor with a small grunt, as though her sculpture weighted fifty pounds rather than five hundred. The medusa got a good secure grip -- one hand at her stony crotch and one around her rigid white neck -- and carried her living statue back downstairs to the gallery they'd hurried through earlier. The medusa made her way to the front of the space, and set Lisa down with a solid thunk onto a spotlighted but empty pedestal. She leaned Lisa's rigid stone body against the gallery wall like a piece of furniture and then ran off into the shadows, returning with a fat tube of glue. She squeezed this over the stony soles of Lisa's feet and stood her upright on the pedestal, pivoting her marble figure into position. Within seconds her stone feet were fused to the pedestal and she had become another sculpture in Euryale's collection.

The Gordon caressed the sleek marble slope of her stomach, and looked her body over from behind those dark sunglasses, lingering over her fossilized breasts and rigid limbs. She slipped an arm around Lisa's stony waist and leapt onto the pedestal. She pressed her warm olive skin against the cold white curves of Lisa's marble body and kissed her unfeeling, sculpted lips. For a moment she just looked deep into the blank, white stone orbs of Lisa's eyes, panting, her breath fogging the gleaming stone surfaces of Lisa's frozen face.

"Now, you have no right to be angry, my little statue," she said, her breath hoarse and low. "I asked you several times tonight if you wanted to be a statue for me, and you said yes every time. I know you want to move, but you can't. You're made of stone. You notice that all your senses are intact, as is your mind -- that's because this is a magical petrifaction. You'll be a living statue forever, so I advise you admit that this is something you always wanted, and enjoy it. Those who don't eventually go mad."

Euryale placed a final kiss on her smooth stone cheek, leaped off the pedestal, and disappeared upstairs. Lisa stood alone in a pool of light, petrified and helpless, in the silent crowd of her fellow living statues.

When the following day dawned, Lisa stood on display in Euryale's little gallery. Lisa watched the golden morning light flood the wide white spaces of the gallery, sliding in shifting patterns over the statue's motionless bodies. She expected a bustle of activity, but there was none. After a while, she realized it was a Sunday.

She tried resign herself to her new fate, attempted to be calm and meditative as the hours passed and passed. The time mounted up as she stood perfectly still, frozen in that masturbating pose, absolutely motionless for all eternity.

Lisa looked with her blank stone eyes at the spot-lit statues of men and women around her in the gallery. All were nude, all were aroused, and most had a stone face frozen in the same surprised smile as her own. She realized that all of these statues were petrified people, like her. There were a number of slender, beautiful women frozen in the gallery, their slim hands frozen as they caressed their sinuous marble bodies. There were a number of detailed statues of men looking flirtatious, men looking suprised at their erect marble cocks, and men simply looking suprised. There was a muscular woman captured in a running pose, a sleeping woman, and a young man caught and petrified as he ejaculated. They had been standing here for weeks or months or years, nude and motionless as stone statues in this little gallery. She was just the newest sculpture in the medusa's collection.

The day passed slowly and monotonously. Outside, in the living world, the brilliant summer sun traveled slowly in its arc across the sky, and bright shafts of light from the windows slid slowly across the room. Lisa watched with fixed eyes as sunbeams gleamed on polished stone skin and highlighted sensuous marble curves, and golden polygons slid across motionless nude bodies. They stood together as silent statuary, strong young bodies frozen solid in marble. Finally, the sun sank low and suffused the room with an auburn radiance. For a few brief minutes, the reddish light gave the alabaster figures the rosy glow of living flesh, as though they were living people posing as a private "tableau vivant." But the sun set and they were engulfed in blue night, revealed again as sculptures of cold stone.

The next morning dawned misty and gray. Euryale bounded down the stairs and turned on the lights, unlocked the door, and turned on some quiet background music. She put on some coffee, raised the shades, and unlocked the door. Then she danced around the room, the gossamer fabric of her sarong whirling but her turban rock-steady, and looked over her collection of living sculpture.

"Good morning, everyone," the medusa sang to her frozen victims, "You all look beautiful this morning, so white and still."

She spun across the gallery floor to the statue of a handsome, muscular young man who stood sculpted in stone, his long penis erect and his fingers teasing his scrotum. Euryale traced one delicate finger up and down the marble cock.

"Who shall I favor this morning? Shall it be you, John, always my favorite?"

She danced away from him, moving over to an enstoned woman, lean and athletic, in a pose of total suprise with her arms awkwardly frozen in place like a mannequin. She moved around the woman's pedestal, looking at her voluptous white body, her muscular but unbending marble limbs. She came around again to gaze up into the woman's motionless mask of a face, her hands hands straying upward almost unconsciously to cup and carress the fossilized hemispheres of her breasts.

"Or shall it be you, Ellen? You, the sarcastic little art critic, who now knows what it feels like to be a piece of art? To be appraised, criticized, and judged?" Euryale laughed, a brittle sound, and traced a circle around the cold pebble of her nipple with her finger.

"Or shall it be you, Lisa," she teased, dancing over. "The new girl? My pretty statue?" Euryale walked around behind her frozen figure and began stroking her hand up and down the immobile curves of her polished round buttocks and sleek back. She came back around front and started placed kisses all over her chest and the hard marble globes of her petrified breasts, at her eye-level now that Lisa stood elevated on her display pedestal.

Lisa could feel the medusa's kisses, so warm and pleasant on the cold surface of her stone skin, but again her ecstasy was mixed with the agony of being a statue. She wanted to move, to do something -- anything -- but she was rigid and motionless, her body sculpted of solid stone. She tried again to resign herself to this new state, as Euryale's kisses starting moving downward.

Suddenly the bell tingled on the front door, and it swung open as the day's first customers stopped in. With supernatural speed Euryale quit making love to Lisa's statue and began feigning that she was rubbing some dust from the taut curve of her marble torso. She turned around and stood up to greet the visitors, a rich elderly couple, with the same warm smile Lisa had seen in the bar the previous night.

Part 2 coming soon. Submissions by other authors also welcome.

See also Euryale: The Last Gorgon's Gift from the Gods by Anonymous.