By ASL

For the last six months I've watched Queen Dora decide where and when to take her place among the tableaux of golden statues that has come to grace the town commons. Over those six months three more women sought out and have been granted my gilding Touch. Three more golden nudes, posed as if bathing, bringing the total to seven statues.

Seven women.

Seven among hundreds that have sought my Touch. When Bacchus first bestowed the Touch upon me, I saw it as a curse, as a burden so odious as to set me apart from humanity forever. But soon my Touch became sought after as nothing else in living memory. I, Midas, who once enjoyed a modest popularity among my people, had become – if you'll pardon my immodesty - a legend throughout the world. Even my tiny kingdom of Phrygia has become known to all men, and has prospered beyond even my wildest dreams. Countless artists, philosophers and poets now call Phrygia their home. Multitudes of other people have come to Phrygia: the religious, idle curiosity seekers, thieves, harlots and madmen. And, of course, women have come to Phrygia. Women seeking Midas' Touch - the Touch that bestows eternal youth and beauty. The Touch that will transform them into statues of the purest gold.

But why? Well, Gentle Reader, that is a question that has been asked many times by many people… Every golden statue that adorns a village square anywhere in Phrygia was once a living, breathing woman. Every one of them sought out my Touch; not one was gilded against her wish. It seems that Bacchus, in giving me my 'gift', also bestowed a gift upon all those that I may Touch. Each woman - each statue - that I create is blessed with the gift of eternal ecstasy.

Each of those statues is, now and always, experiencing a sexual ecstasy beyond mortal comprehension. It courses through them, wave upon wave of indescribable pleasure, a hot starburst of ecstasy that burns ever brighter inside each of them.

How do I know this, you ask? Well, let me tell you…

I once thought my Touch to be eternal; once granted, never to be removed. Any woman who seeks my Touch knows this; she knows that she will become a statue and remain a statue forever. That sobers many, but deters very few.

One girl who sought my Touch was named Trina, and she was very beautiful indeed. Trina had a lovely figure; slender and long legged like a huntress. Her breasts were full, with thick nipples poking the fabric of her garment. Her auburn hair was cut short in the style that women wore then; it framed a beautiful face, angular, yet not harsh.

Trina, like many before her, had good reason to seek an auric eternity at my hand: She had just received word that her husband, her one true love, was lost at sea. Trina, though young and very lovely, was inconsolable. She had no family to speak of and, when she came to me, spun such a moving tale of love and loss that I could not refuse her. Determined to persuade me, Trina demonstrated a pose: she stood in the classic hero's stance, her legs spread, hands on her hips, her head turned slightly - her body determined. Yet in her eyes was a distant sadness, plain to see as she gazed into the distance. She asked that as a statue, she be placed on the quay in Lathos, Phrygia's busiest port, forever gazing out to sea, awaiting the return of her love. I am a foolish old man, and could not refuse so heartfelt a wish.

When the time came, Trina stuck her pose and I Touched her, gently caressing the cheek of this poor, distraught girl. As with all the women I illuminate, she was posed as a nude. As soon as I stroked her cheek, she let out a moan of ecstasy and then ceased all movement. I watched, as I always do, as the golden hue swept across her body from the place where I Touched her. Her cheek first, then her ears transmuted, first one then the other; a crackling sound came as each strand of hair became as spun gold; her eyes glazed over, becoming golden orbs but retaining the outline of her pupils; her eyelashes flashed golden in the light. Her lips, frozen in mid moan, turned to gold. I watched as the golden wave continued to wash downward across her beautiful body, gilding her, turning this beautiful young girl into a perfect golden statue.

Within moments, Trina's transformation into a statue was complete; her figure stood motionless, glistening in the sun. Her profound grief now washed away by the waves of orgasmic pleasure surging through her frozen figure. True to her wish, I had the statue moved to Lathos, where she was mounted on a pedestal, where she would spend all time patiently waiting for a man she had believed would never return.

* * *

The Fates must truly revel in the tricks they play on humans: Trina's husband did live, washed ashore on a remote island. He lived for many months there, kept alive by the thought of seeing his lovely Trina again. Rescue came eventually, and he returned to Phrygia, landing on the very quay decorated by her statue. Immediately recognizing the gilded girl as his Trina, he dropped to his knees and cried out to the gods. Weeping profoundly and tearing at his hair, many feared he would go mad.

Every evening for months after his return he would lay sacrifices on the altar of Bacchus, beseeching Him for an audience, a sign, for any indication that what had been done to his love could indeed be undone. He would stay in the temple until early morning, praying. His days were spent at the Trina-statue's feet. He never seemed to sleep. The old women of Lathos took pity on him, bringing him food and water during these lonely vigils. Some questioned the wisdom in keeping so wretched a soul alive.

Finally, one summer evening, Bacchus appeared to him in a vision, instructing him to kiss the statue on the lips at the stroke of noon the very next day. Word of this soon got out and, as you can imagine, quite a crowd gathered to see if indeed the lovely statue would again become a lovely young girl. Well, Gentle Reader, let me spare you the suspense: Trina did indeed become flesh again but, tragically, had no thought for her love, miraculously returned to her. Indeed,

Trina had no thought for anyone or anything except to return to her state of unending ecstasy. She would not eat, she spoke to no one, she pleasured herself continuously, vainly seeking to replace the unending rapture she had known as a statue. Her husband was inconsolable, unable to bear the thought of his sweet Trina in such a state. He sent word to my court, begging me to come to Lathos to try to speak to Trina.

After two days hard ride, I met him and he quickly took me to her. She lay in her bed, masturbating furiously. I stood for a moment, entranced by the vision of this beautiful young girl making love to herself, oblivious to everything except her plunging fingers. Finally, I cleared my throat and said, "Trina". Incredibly, she stopped immediately, as if the sound of my voice somehow brought everything into focus for her.

"Midas," she said breathlessly, "you are the only person that can help me. Please touch me again, make me a statue. I beg it of you. Please Midas, oh please. . . "

"Why Trina?" I asked, "the man you mourned has returned, surely you can be happy now."

With that she told me how she could never be happy again. She told me how she craved the indescribable orgasms that were her existence as a statue. "Midas, I have touched the heavens. As a statue, I felt pleasure that transcends anything I can ever feel as a human. There are no words to describe it, as there are no words to describe how I feel in its absence. Please Midas, make me a statue again, please, or I'll surely die…" With that, she closed her eyes and spoke no more, returning to her frantic masturbation. I silently cursed Bacchus and damned the day he gave me so cruel a "gift".

Her husband took me aside and we spoke at length. He agreed that there was but one choice - to grant Trina her wish. Heartbroken, he suggested we proceed immediately. I pondered for a moment the question of pose. I never bestow my Touch for the pleasure of the subject alone, she must be posed in such a way, either artistic or erotic, to bring pleasure to all who view her gilded body. Trina's transformation back to a statue would be no exception - this beautiful girl would be a truly stunning sculpture if posed correctly. The problem was that Trina would not stop pleasuring herself long enough to be posed. I prefer to illuminate women as standing nudes; however, I didn't think that possible in this case. The idea of capturing Trina on her back, caught in the throes of her self love, did have merit, though she would not be the first women I had frozen in so private a moment.

Suddenly a thought came to me - a variation on a theme. Summoning one of my servants, I sent him off with instructions for the local sculptor...

I sat waiting with Trina's husband, sitting silently, watching as he gently caressed her face as she continued to give herself orgasms, unaware of anything except her own pleasure. My servant soon returned, followed later on by an ox cart and a dozen strong men. I rushed to the ox cart to find, as I had requested, a very lifelike marble penis rising out of a block of polished marble. I gave instructions to the men and they quickly manhandled the phallus and it's pedestal to Trina's room. Getting them to leave was not easy, as they seemed to find every reason to want to stay. Finally, I paid them and told them to rest and wait outside, for they were soon to have even heavier work to do.

Speaking with Trina's husband, I asked him to move Trina to the pedestal. This soon proved to be a job for at least two men, as she needed to be carried and raised onto the waist-high pedestal. I couldn't assist for fear of inadvertently Touching either Trina or her husband. Although I always wear protective gloves, they could easily have torn or come off, creating an accidental statue. Trina's husband and one of my servants gently carried the oblivious Trina to her pedestal, placing her on her knees, straddling the marble phallus. As my servant gently lowered her, Trina's husband gently parted her lips and guided the phallus into her. Trina responded to the fullness by beginning to move up and down ever so slowly, and soon the marble penis glistened with her juice. Her hands moved to her breasts and she began to fondle them, teasing the already erect nipples to new lengths. I sent for one of my female servants and had her brush Trina's hair. She did so, as Trina continued to ride her marble lover.

I looked at Trina's husband and he knew that it was time. He climbed on the pedestal and gently kissed her one last time. He moved aside and prepared to watch me grant his love a gift of eternal beauty.

And eternal ecstasy.

As I climbed the pedestal, Trina stopped for a moment, looked at me and said "Thank you, Midas." A look of utter contentment spread across her face as her back arched and she moaned in ecstasy. At that moment, I Touched her, freezing her forever in her moment of celestial bliss. As I watched her change I tried to imagine what she was feeling - what it was like to experience such soul searing pleasure for all time… I think that some things just aren't meant for mortal men.

Then I did something that I have never done before - I gave the newly created statue to her husband. I felt that the newly gilded figure of his young wife should have a special place in his home, a symbol of their love, but perhaps memorial to their tragedy as well. Until Trina, only one of my statues was hidden from public view: the golden figure of my beloved Lyssa, forever adorning my private chamber, silent testament to our all too short time together. I sent him away with the cart, the men and with a statue that was once his wife. I think of that man often.

Very soon, the story of Trina spread throughout Phrygia and beyond. More and more women came to seek my Touch. And that, Gentle Reader, takes me back to where we started: "Why?" Why do so many women seek to become statues at my hand? The answer was suspected but never confirmed until Trina returned, ever so briefly, and gave us a glimmer of the truth.
 
 

ASL