Sorceress' Showroom I: Legally Stoned

From the moment Hannah's consciousness was abruptly roused, things were horribly, horribly amiss.

Ignoring the firm yet painless pinch against her nipple, the first thing entering her awareness was that she was chilled to her absolute core. And on her feet. With something lilac-ish draped over her left eye; it was only upon moving to probe it that she realized, embarrassingly slowly, as both her hands and eyes failed to engage the object, that her body, the whole of her self, would not budge whatsoever.

"What? Where am I?" Her mind spooled up the words, but they were frozen in her throat, and she silently shuddered at the realized sensation of something slithered around her mind, her soul.

"Hey there," came a breathy whisper in possible response; Hannah felt the warmth of the muffled words against whatever was guarding her hearing.

Again, Hannah jerked, or rather her instincts did; in reality, she remained perfectly still, plagued by the frigidity and pink something and glaring lights of the massive showroom. Her mind was racing, a thousand words a minute.

The other woman, meanwhile, simply sighed in response. "No, no; you have to think what you're trying to say as if you are trying to actually say it."

[Where,] she tested, [Where am I?]

"Good girl," the unseen woman cooed, "I see that college education of yours paid off after all."

Outlandish scenarios splayed before her, yet all tamer than the truth she'd yet to comprehend. [Why can't I move?] Had there been...an accident? Was she paralyzed?

The Other merely chuckled. "Because you do not need to, sweetie. Especially not after what you did." Her words were calm, collected. Seemingly...definite.

[What? Why?!] Her mind started to spin as she fixated on the objects in the distance; she couldn't even adjust the focus of her fixed-ahead gaze.

"Well...Stop me if you have...heard this one," she crept, fingers straying into a spiral around her right areola and breast. "This is the story of a princess who met a prince, they fell in love, and lived happily ever after."

[Huh...?]

"Now now, Hannah, we are not done." A tsk-ing finger ran across the surface of her rigid ex-blonde hair, an action Hannah would have been more weirded out at the full physical sensation if not for the fact it was so hypnotically warm against her chills. "That is, of course, until the princess decided she wanted to have encounters with other dukes—and duchesses—without so much as telling her prince. Or without stopping...how do you say...sponging off his money, for that matter."

Hannah's thought-stream distorted slightly in the panic. [What...N, wht you...]

"Tell me, girl, does that refresh your memory? What is the last thing you remember doing?"

[The, the walk...He, wait, wh happened?!]

"Her prince found out about these indiscretions—from her closest handmaiden, no less—and concocted a plan. One night, as she was walking home through the park from a frolic with her other lover, a witch appeared and turned her to shining stone; pretty and pink like the demure beauty she claimed to represent."

Echoes from her memories burst forth. [Wait. You're...]

"Aaand," The Other cut in, "then they lived happily ever after. Just, one with her just deserts as a fetching nude art masterpiece."

[Wait, nu—art? How?!]

"Magic, sweetie."

[No, you can't,] Hannah remarked, bracing for a response but none came. [My...my life, my friends...my class?! I, you can't-]

"You already said I can't," she shot, swooping around the statue's backside to her other ear, "Yet I can and definitely did."

[But I, I just got into law school! I worked so hard, you can't just go an-]

"No one cares about a statue's achievements," she retorted, shrugging. "Except..." a hand stroked her now infinitely firm yet visibly well-toned tummy. "Maybe all that dieting and exercise; I didn't even have to re-sculpt you. And for that, we thank you."

[W-we? Wait, my family, my friends, please, you have to tell them!]

"Hannah, you are two things now:" She paused for added effect, "A statue, and a memory."

[N-no, please change me back! Let me talk to talk to my family, my boyfriend! Tell him-]

"Your family and friends have all but forgotten you," she corrected, "And your so-called 'boyfriend' and 'best friend' are expecting their third child."

[What...That's...]

"How many times do you think we've had this conversation before, Hannah?"

The sensations of deja vu, like half-remembered dreams of similar circumstances, suddenly substantiated themselves to her [I...It's...]

"It's been ten years. It's 2019."

Hannah's petrified heart sunk even lower with unfathomable chills running through her—all imagined, of course. [How, that's...]

"...Impossible? Magic, sweetie. Not going to lie: Ever since your boyfriend decided he didn't want you after all, you," she said, doting fingernails tinking atop the stone head, "have been one of my favorites. That nice, tight butt and...how to put it...'cute' chest of yours really brightened up my gallery."

[No! You-you bitch, you can't! I'm a person, you can't-]

The Other released all physical contact, a torrent of numbing chills slowing Hannah's train of thought. She left her this way for a few seconds, illustrating the degree of her predicament, before warm fingers slid down toward her would-be womanhood. "Again: We can. And did. And if you ever want to get back to spreading your legs you will learn your place."

A mote of hope blossomed within Hannah's solidified soul. [Please! Yes, I'll do anything!]

Her fingers, deft as they were soulless, worked their way across the student's erogeny, all while a muted 'hmph' and a smile spread upon the sorceress' face. "Say, I love being your statue."

[I...I love being your statue.] Her thoughts came with some trouble, mind equally stimulated at her magical touch and revolted—disgusted—at the treatment she was literally unable to resist in any way.

"I relish the idea of being artwork." Her palms smoothly and seamlessly outlined her marbled curves, partially eliciting memories of her final moments of free motion.

[I...relish the idea of being art.] A lie, of course. Whether she'd wanted to admit it, one point of her education was to defy being objectified.

"I am going to love being a sociable stone slut for my new owner." As if on cue, a finger entered her once-screaming mouth and traced the circumference of her fixed oral cavity.

[I'm going to love being...a...social...] Her spiritual stomach sunk at the implications of the previous gesture registering. [...Stone slut for my new owner...Wait, what owner?]

Fingers off, for another second, before she resumed her touch. "My surprised, caught-cheating expression..."

[My surprised caught-cheating expression...]

"Showing off my erect nipples and body to everyone for free..."

[Showing off my...] She realized, almost comically slowly, that she had been stripped of her clothing somehow. [Erect nipples and body to everyone.]

"...For free."

[F-for free.]

"And I wish I could stay this way forever."

[And I wish I could stay this way...forever.]

"Well, if you are so willing I shall oblige you."

The hope, however tenuous, immediately extinguished within Hannah. [Wait, no! I was just repeating what-] The removal of touch and the nothingness derailed her train of thought once again.

The Other sneered as she re-engaged, lowering her voice once again to a powerful, projected whisper. "Now, I am feeling quite generous at the moment, so listen well, for I shall explain how your little 'condition', so to speak, currently functions: Anyone who knows, thinks, or so much as believes thoroughly enough that your harlotic soul is bound to this pretty little statue will be able to hear your thoughts, so long as they are engaged with you. Touch, sight, even thinking hard of you, if they are near by. And in kind, it will rouse your consciousness. Of course, as you have doubtlessly experienced, the opposite also applies: No engagement, and you will start to think exactly like a normal curvy marble statue would. Do you understand?"

Hannah was overwhelmed, crestfallen as could be in the mental projection of her voice. [...Yes.]

"I am afraid our time is drawing to a close, Hannah. You spent a lovely decade in our gallery, pink like the alleged 'girly girls' of today claim to fancy. One of a sorority of thousands. It is truly nothing personal; it is my lot in this existence to collect and humble things of...aesthetic: Those far more suited to an existence as monuments than petulant, fleeting beauty. You, a mere courtesan, stood in the company of royalty, of queens and empresses of old, far and away a myriad of alluring women boasting cultural and historical significance far greater than anything you could have amounted to—naturally, all sealed and put in their proper place before me; their vessels and souls mine to enjoy ad infinitum. Yet, as they say: Out with the old, in with the new. Or perhaps in this scenario, purging the undeserving refuse such as yourself. The next time you are—how to say it—awake and lively like this, perhaps it will be in the company of your new owner."

Again, the word. [O-owner?!]

"Correct. And perhaps you will be lucky enough for your soul to be forever conscious, if they so desire it."

Her mock-vocalizations were already losing coherence, panicking at the separation from what she assumed was the only woman who could restore her, but the possibility of her future ahead only sent her spiraling further toward a panic attack. [Ples, m parnts can py yo-] Once again, the metaphorical plug was pulled, this time along with a pittance of her own essence, suppressing her already fading sentience. Thinking grew more difficult by the second, with all of her presence of mind flowing toward comprehending the venomous words coming her way.

"Sweet dreams, Hannah. Now be a good girl and present me one last embarrassing fact for your plaque whilst you sleep...

"...As for myself, I have a showroom to furnish..."

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Anonymous commission - Part 1.