All things considered, I should have known better.  What can I say?  I'm just a girl that loves a challenge.  I mean, why else would I be dating a Greek god?

Yeah, I know that term gets used rather loosely most of the time, but in Paul's case it happens to be accurate.  You see, Paul is short for Apollo.  You know, god of the sun, and music, and... Well, other stuff.  I'm not really that up on mythology.  All I know is that Paul's supposed to be one of the big names.

Before you think I'm the most gullible person on the planet, let me assure you that I've seen the proof.  Believe me, seeing your ex-boyfriend and the bitch he's currently seeing turned into a pair of porcelain figurines goes a long way toward making the case for Paul's power.  So, trust me on this.  Paul's the real deal.

There are lots of advantages to dating a god, too.  For one thing, we never have to worry about travel expenses.  Paul's got his own magic chariot that can take us anywhere.  There's never a problem with getting a place to stay, either.  No matter where we go, there's almost always a room available.  If not, well, one soon opens up.  I'm sure that the original occupants don't mind spending the rest of their vacation as statues in the hotel lobby.

No, I'm not worried about ending up in some museum myself.  I mean, sure, Paul's turned me into the occasional object or animal or whatnot as a joke, but he's always turned me back.  He really loves me, you know.  In fact, I'd say there's only one thing he loves more, and that's football.

Every Sunday during the season, I know that I might as well find something to occupy myself, because once the games start, Paul's gonna be unavailable.  It doesn't matter who's playing either, because Paul's not a fan of any particular team.  It's the sport that he loves and, with the advent of satellite technology, he can watch from noon till midnight.

So, on "Football Sundays", I'm left to my own devices, and that's not a good thing most of the time.  As I said earlier, I love a challenge, and finding some way of separating my god from the television on Sunday was just too good to pass up.  How hard could it be?  All I had to do was find something so tempting... so totally impossible to ignore... that Paul would forget all about his beloved game.

This past week, I thought I'd found just the right bait.


The funny thing was that it was an obsession of my own that led to this discovery.  You see, Paul has football. I've got shopping, particularly fashion shopping.  Whenever a new shop or boutique opens in town, I just have to be the first person to check it out.

Of course, Paul doesn't get it, but then why should he?  He's a god, remember?  Whenever he wants a new outfit or whatever, he just creates it out of thin air.  I'm not sure, but I sometimes think it makes him mad that I don't let him do the same for me.  I've tried to explain to him that it's the hunt for the newest fashions that I enjoy more than the actual possession of them, but it never seems to sink in.

So, when that new store opened this past week, I made him an offer.  "Come with me.  Maybe if you see me in action, you'll understand it better."  Honestly, I was more than a little surprised when he agreed to go.

Not that it did any good.

For an hour, while I try on various outfits, Paul sat in a chair looking bored.  Sure, I tried to get him more involved by modeling my selections for him... everything from dresses to swimwear... but he just wasn't getting into it at all.  Finally, I gave up, and headed into the dressing room to put my own clothes back on.

When I came out, ready to make my purchases, I got a surprise.  Paul wasn't in the chair where I'd left him.  It took me a few moments of looking around the store, but I finally spotted him standing in the intimate apparel section.  My eyes went wide as I realized that he was intensely checking out a bustier-and-panties combo on a display mannequin.  As I watched, he slowly circled around the rigid figure, taking it in from all sides.

Now, you need to understand how unusual this is for Paul.  When it comes to being intimate, he's not a big lingerie fan.  Don't get me wrong.  Paul is not a "wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am" type of lover.  He really does enjoy foreplay and making me happy.  He just prefers me naked, that's all.  The few times that I have put on something sexy for him, I've lost it.  And by "lost it", I mean it vanished... turned to smoke... never to be seen again.

So, for Paul to be taking such an interest in this outfit was a pretty big deal.

Almost instantly, my plan was formed.  I walked over to the checkout and placed my purchases up on the counter for the sales clerk to ring up.  When she asked me if that was all, I smiled and pointed over to where Paul was still checking out the mannequin.  "Not quite.  I'd like one of those outfits, but I don't want my boyfriend there to know I'm buying it."  I gave her my size and made arrangements to have it delivered, then pulled Paul away and headed for home, satisfied that I had the perfect plan in mind.

Like I said before, I should have known better.


Now, every Sunday before game time, Paul would make a "beer run" back to Olympus.  That's where he's from and, apparently he has a brother or a cousin or something there that makes a really good home brew.  He just can't seem to do without it.  At any rate, I'd decided that his trip would be the perfect time to get myself ready.  So, as soon as he was gone, I pulled the package from the store out of its hiding place.

For the first time, I took a good look at the outfit that had so captured Paul's attention.  It really didn't look that special, to tell you the truth.  It was just a simple red velvet bustier with shoulder straps and black laces to tie it in the front.  A black band of elastic ran around the bottom to pull it tight around the waist.  Like I said, it was nothing special.  Still, if it was what Paul wanted...

I pulled it on and tied it tight around my torso.  The boning inside pushed my smallish breasts up, enhancing my cleavage.  I picked up the matching g-string, intending to pull it on as well, but stopped at the last second.  Smiling at myself in my bedroom mirror, I tossed them back onto the bed.  Instead, I sat and pulled on a pair of black nylons, attaching them to the elastic waistband of the bustier with a pair of garters.  Black stilettos finished the ensemble.  I stood in front of the mirror and looked myself over.  I decided that I'd made the right decision to leave off the panties.  "Let's see him ignore this," I said to my reflected image.


There was just one more thing to do before Paul got back.  Going over to my dresser, I opened my underwear drawer and took out the small glass bottle of amber that I kept there.  Removing the cap, I placed the bottle to my lips and took a healthy sip.  Now, I was ready.

I guess I should take a minute and tell you a bit about amber.  You might have heard of it referred to as the "food of the gods", and that's all it is for beings like Paul.  For mortals like you and me, however, it's something else entirely.  Amber is, without a doubt, the world's perfect aphrodisiac.  A single drop is enough to double your sexual desire.  Take a teaspoon and a breeze will cause you to have an orgasm.  So, why did I take some when there was a chance that my plan might not work?  Actually, that's why I did it.  I had enough amber in my system from that little sip that, whether Paul joined me or not, I was gonna have a great afternoon.

I was just starting to feel the effects of it when I heard Paul come back in.  I glanced over at my alarm clock next to the bed and smiled.  11:50 on the dot.  You could set a watch by that man's Sunday schedule.  I reached down and hooked a finger into the red velvet g-string still on my bed.  Squaring my shoulders, I headed out.


As I expected, I found Paul already sitting in his favorite chair with his feet up.  The T.V. was already tuned to Fox, and he had his assortment of snacks, as well as a day's supply of his cousin's home brew, positioned around him for easy access.  He was set to waste the day in front of the television.

Well, not if I had anything to say about it.

Walking up behind him, I flicked the g-string panties over the back of the chair, letting them fall into his lap.  He picked them up and stared at them for a second, before turning to look in my direction.  As he did, I came around the chair.  His eyes followed me as moved between him and the television, swinging one leg over to straddle his own outstretched legs and giving him a clear view of my uncovered assets.  As he looked up at me in confusion, I gave him back my best "come fuck me" wink.  "Hi there," I said, trying to make my voice both innocent and wicked at the same time.

"Um, hello?" he stammered in response.

"What'cha doing?"

"Just getting ready to watch the game."  As he spoke, his eyes kept dropping down to the area between my legs, and I could see that I had his attention by the budge developing in the front of his trousers.

"Oh," I said, putting a touch of disappointment in my tone.  "That's too bad.  I was hoping we might do something a little different this afternoon."  I ran my finger down across the laces tied between my breasts.

"But..."  He stopped as his eyes followed my finger downward, realizing what I was wearing for the first time.  "Hey! That's..."

"That's right, lover boy," I told him, using my knee to rub against his leg.  "I bought it just for you."

"You did?"

"I did."  I reached forward and took his hand.  At the same time, I swung my leg back over his legs, making sure he could get a good look as I did.  "Now, don't you think I deserve something special to thank me for my consideration?"  Not waiting for him to reply, I pulled him to his feet and into a deep tongue-probing kiss.  I felt his hands on my naked butt as he pulled me tight against him.

I pulled back just enough to look up into his eyes, seeing the lust there.  "So, how about it?"

He sighed softly and smiled.  "Okay," he said.

As we turned together to head for the bedroom, it was all I could do to keep from jumping in celebration.  I'd done it!  I had made my god/lover abandon his favorite pastime for me.  At that moment, I felt like I could do anything if I wanted.

We were almost to the door when the fanfare started.

As the first notes were heard, I knew I'd lost.  Paul stopped dead in his tracks.  As I looked up at him in disbelief, I saw him turn back to look at the television.  He glanced down at me, looked back at the television, then back at me again.  I could see the conflict in his eyes, but it only lasted a second as he backed away from me.  With a shrug, he headed back to his chair.

I watched as he sat back down, trying to think of some way to salvage the situation.  "What about my thank you?" I asked, putting all the disappointment I felt into my voice.  Maybe it would be enough to win him over.

It wasn't.  "Right after the games," he said without a backwards glance.

I let my shoulders drop in surrender.  Oh, well.  It had been worth a try.  Still, I couldn't admit defeat without taking one last shot.  Placing a big smile on my face, I said, "Okay, but I think you should know that I had a little amber earlier, so I might not be able to wait for you."  That was sure the truth.  I was really starting to feel the effects of that stuff, and if he didn't come with me right then, I knew I was gonna be taking out the other little item that I kept in my underwear drawer.


"Not a problem," he said, with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Well, that was it.  I'd lost.  I might as well take my new outfit and retire to the bedroom for a little self-gratification.  There was just one little problem:
  I couldn't move.

That's right.  You heard me correctly.  I couldn't move.  No matter how hard I tried, my body wouldn't respond to my instructions.  It was like I was frozen or something.  It didn't take much to figure out that Paul had obviously done something to me.  The question was what.

I couldn't even move my eyes to look down at myself to see if I was still me, though I was pretty sure I was.  As I said earlier, Paul's turned me into things before, and there's a certain feeling that accompanies having your body's shape changed.  Since I didn't have that feeling, I assumed I was still basically in the same form I started out in.  That only left so many options.  I had to be a statue of some kind.  That, or a...

Just like that, I put it all together.  I wasn't a statue.  I was a mannequin.

How did I figure that?  It's simple really, when you think about it.  Since Paul doesn't go shopping for clothes, it's not too big a leap to assume that he's probably never been in a clothing store before going to one with me this week.  If that's the case, then it's probably also true that he's never seen a mannequin before in his life.  Don't you see?  It wasn't the outfit that he was so fascinated with that day.  It was the mannequin.

So, why would Paul, who could have turned me into just about anything, pick a mannequin?  Well, I can't be sure, but if I know my god-slash-lover... and I like to think that I do... he was just trying to be cute.  He probably seen it as poetic justice for me trying to use the outfit from the store to come between him and his precious game.  I am sure about one thing, though.  I've been stuck like this for six hours and if these games aren't over soon, I could be in big trouble.

Why?

Remember what I told you about amber and its effects on a human being?  Well, apparently my being turned into a mannequin doesn't matter, because I'm still feeling those effects.  The only problem is that I no longer have the necessary equipment to stop them.  After all, mannequins don't have pussies.   Not only that, but as luck would have it, I'm stuck standing over a heating vent that keeps blowing warm air over the area where mine used to be, which is just increasing the tension.  So, if I don't get some relief soon, I just might go to pieces.

And, as a mannequin, I might be doing so literally.