Living Statues - Pawns of the State 2b

by D.Muk

Here's the continuation of this multi-part tale, inspired by Q and taking place in the Living Statues universe.
To begin at the beginning of this installment, click here; to read the entire Pawns of the State series from the start, click here.

"Ahh! This is the life, I say." Katrina exclaimed as she arched back, letting the deluge of hot water cascade over her firm body, flowing over her breasts, across her flat abs, to vanish between her legs where it tickled her in an arousing way. "One of the best parts of going on assignment."

"You should not enjoy it so much; this is a solemn duty we have to perform." Tatiana snapped back from two showers away. Nevertheless, she too stood under the needle-hard stream and ran her hands over her skin, amazed at how soft and smooth it had become. Part of the preparation was a depilatory cream treatment along with the necessary showers to wash the residue off. It was true, she reflected, nowhere else in these times could one be so wasteful of precious resources without severe penalty.

The other two members of Group Three, Section S (suspensor) had completed their cleansing and were toweling off in the steamy locker room. Olga, the tall catlike burglar, was shaking the water out of her mane of flowing jet-black hair. She looked almost like a supermodel in that pose but in fact was as deadly an assassin as any member of the KGB. Valentina had already wrapped herself in a thick terrycloth robe to finish drying off. The others soon joined her at the mirrors to fix up their faces and pin up their hair before placing tight latex caps over their heads.

Their day had started with one of their usual rituals, a long breakfast tea in a small cafe near the headquarters building. Despite 'suggestions' not to be seen together, the four members of Group Three always met before an assignment and chit-chatted about not much in particular while taking in the bustle of the city. This time it was early spring, and snow was beginning to melt. Even though the air was cold enough to show their breaths, they saw people running around without coats or proper hats. For they knew after they walked into the building and had been 'prepared', who knew what season it might be when they could walk out again. The elaborate baths were also part of their preparations.

Making their way from the locker room to workroom five, where they had been instructed to report, they looked more like a group of young models than a combat unit. The four had secured their uniforms and personal effects in a locker and filed the key with a solemn quartermaster sergeant before proceeding down the drafty hallway in their robes and flip-flops. Valentina giggled when a young soldier walking the other way stopped and did a double-take at them, almost bumping into a concrete column in his distraction. She was still smiling when they keyed the combination on the double door and entered the high-ceilinged room, then quickly squelched it at seeing a glare from the one they called simply The Professor, since no one knew his true name or rank. He seemed ageless, or at least ancient enough to appear so, and almost completely bald. What little hair that was left, including his bushy eyebrows, was completely white. Gaunt to the point of emaciation, he looked sort of like an enormous dildo, which was another of the teams' nicknames for him. Valentina shot a wry glance at Katrina, who was trying not to laugh; she had remembered it too.

There were three other women in the room, two of them posed stiffly next to and upon a large metal desk that held a mysterious-looking piece of electronic equipment. The bulky device seemed about the size of a small washing machine and was littered with gauges, indicator lights, and switches. On one side were a series of looped cables ending in what looked like a leather straps, two of which were affixed to the motionless figures.. The remaining animate girl was inspecting her frozen comrades carefully. "It's true!" she exclaimed, running her hands over their stiff poses, snapping her fingers in front of their glassy eyes, and trying to move their arms or legs. The girl seated on the table had crossed her legs before being suspended and stared off into the distance like a mannequin displaying military clothing. "They're both solid as a rock..."

"Of course." The man commented dryly. "Surely you remember your own experience recently." There was an odd overlay on his Russian, something sharper; more Teutonic. Watching, Tatiana idly suspected he might have come from Germany or Austria after The War.

"You are saying that I was just this way when you put me under? For this long?" The girl seemed amazed as she circled around her teammates.

"Of course."

"That's incredible. All I felt was a little tingle, and then the lights flickered, and you asked me to look at Ylena, here." She did not mention the other sort of tingle, between her legs, that she had felt throughout the seemingly brief episode.

"Then the suspendor is working properly, as I have expected. Step back, please." After she had done so, the Professor fiddled with one of the controls. Immediately, a change came over the motionless pair; they seemed to change subtly, soften somehow, as life returned to them. A few seconds passed before the standing one blinked and lowered her arms. The young woman sitting simply got to her feet and smoothed the crease in her dress. She appeared very sure of herself, for someone who had just spent the last few minutes as a living statue.

"Team: Line up. Atten-shun!" she commanded, as the others fell in. She nodded to bullet-head when they were ready. He turned slightly to Tatiana's group so they were included in the discussion.

"Ahem. Allow me to introduce the renowned Group Three, commanded by Major Luskaya." he stated as Tatiana saluted, causing her robe to hike up and exposing an ample amount of nicely shaped thigh. Under other circumstances he would have spent more time looking at them, but he had an impression to maintain. There would be ample opportunity, later. "Here is one of our newest Suspensor Groups, number Seven. Captain Ylena Voslova is their leader." The medium-height girl to his right nodded momentarily. "They have completed all special training, but lost one of their members in an unfortunate incident. The directorate has decided to experiment with a three-person team instead of adding a fourth, as would be normal practice." He did not elaborate that the 'incident' had been the selection of the missing agent by a high-ranking party official or that she was now on permanent assignment as a lovely statue at the man's elaborate dacha outside of Moscow. The Professor cleared his throat, covering for the interuption in his speech. "Group Seven are here to witness your preparation for the next assignment. Group Three, stand at ease." They did; he consulted a covered clipboard, read the details, and 'tsk'ed to himself. It was a complex procedure, but nothing he had not done previously.

Four pedestals rested a couple of meters apart along one side of the workroom, each surrounded by what appeared to be scaffolding made from light metal tubes. Behind each pedestal was a tall box, proportioned slightly larger than a telephone enclosure; each was smeared with white dabs of plaster and several spray-painted cyrillic letters and arrows. The leftmost one was suspended a few centimeters off the floor by a cable leading up to an overhead beam.

"Comrade Major, you will be processed first..." The man nodded towards the left pedestal. "Please remove your robe, now."

"If it is acceptable to you, sir, I would prefer to go last." Tatiana replied.

"Very well. Comrade Bondarenko, then." He indicated the third pedestal in the row. Olga stepped out of line, walked briskly towards the platform, and dropped her robe without being told. Seen from the back, she had a very shapely figure and a trim behind. Wasting no time, she found the footstool alongside the pedestal and was soon standing on top of it, about half a meter above the floor. Coiled on the platform was a short length of light wire, ending in a short capsule-shaped rod that reminded her briefly of The Professor's head. It had already been lubricated, but was at room temperature. She held it for a few seconds before unselfconciously sqatting down an inserting it into her sex. There was enough wire for her to stand normally. Kicking off her clogs, she started to pose herself to mimic the picture of the statue in her briefing packet.

"Group Seven: Assist with the reference frame. Adjust it to enclose this subject, but do not pinch her." The three young members of the team stepped forward to comply, bringing the 'scaffold' closer to Olga as she stood in position. It was clear now that inside the framework was a series of rods creating a 'negative space' in the shape of a figure that Olga Bondarenko now occupied. She continued to refine her pose at each nudge of the cage enclosing her, coming to rest in the exact position required when the spring latch on the framework snapped shut. There was hardly room for her to breathe, but that would not be necessary much longer. "Prepare for suspension," he grunted. Olga barely had time to close her eyes and take a deep breath before the growing whine of the Suspensor filled the room. There was a brief impression of an erotic tickle deep inside her sex right at the point every muscle in her body locked solid and her consciousness faded into limbo. This was a 'hard' freeze, for the preparation and transport.

To the onlookers, she had simply ceased to be a living being and was now a stiffened figure that posessed no movement of her own, an effect made even more obvious when The Professor clicked open the latch and swung away the latticework frame. Olga remained in place, held totally rigid as if hewn from a block of stone. Only the slight hint of a smile belied her true origin. Yet the preparation was not even half complete.

"What are you looking at? Next!" growled the bullet-headed man and Valentina ascended her pedestal, to be surrounded and suspended in turn into another mock statue. Katrina followed, wearing alabaster-shaded contact lenses that allowed her eyes to remain open while she posed herself from memory. There was no tight frame for her, only a few reference points for her to touch; instead of the capsule inserted in her crotch she wore thin leather-looking sandals with metal plates in them to put her body in contact with the suspensor generator. Another grunt from The Professor and she too froze in place, looking almost carved from marble already.

Tatiana had decided to go last, as their leader. Before stepping up onto her own display pedestal, she passed each of her teammates in review, giving them a moment of respect. For no one knew what ill fortune might befall them on assignment and what meeting might be the last. Even the gruff old man gave her this time, though he kept glancing at his watch. Despite having seen the process many times already, and experiencing it themselves, the three members of Group Seven were entranced. This was the Real Thing, not an exercise or test. Group Three was going on assignment. Showing respect for the superior officer, they gently assisted with moving the posing reference into position around the fourth member of the team of living statues.

"Ready?" The Professor asked at last. Tatiana, alone among the team, seemed to be able to move within the framework and appear at ease despite knowing how critical their mission was.


"Uspekhov!" he said while twisting the control knob and hearing the rising pitch of the machine, watching as the young woman seemed to imperceptably harden as her body was transformed. He continued to stare at her for some seconds afterward. Success.

"Group Seven: Dismissed. Resume your normal schedule." The Professor barked, his usual commanding self again. The three newest members of Section S filed out, wondering what sort of assignment would be their first.

The Professor's job was done, but he was senior enough in his position that no one questioned his remaining in the workroom when the camoflage team arrived to complete the preparations. They split apart the boxes, which were fiberglass molds, and placed them around three of the frozen operatives, leaving Katrina uncovered for the moment. As expected, the molds fitted very closely to the motionless women; that had been the purpose of the intricate posing framework. Plastic drinking straws, smuggled at great cost from an american restaurant, were inserted into the molds to provide air and sound passages; they were much superior to the wax and paper local equivalents.

From the base, a loose slurry of plaster and marble chips was injected into each mold from a vibrating hose, filling the remaining spaces completely before overflowing out the vents on the top and at the tips of where their hands were and drooling back onto the floor. This seemed messy, but the technique was a good method of making sure there were no air bubbles trapped inside.

Meanwhile, another pair of artisans was affixing a stiff latex mask to Katrina's face with spirit gum, blending the seams so they appeared invisible where the mask overlapped her skin. Another bit of molded rubber was attached at her crotch, obscuring the entry to her sex while giving the appearance of a smoother, more chisled, feature there. Upon her head they placed a foam wig that had been molded to look like a carving of hair. Finally, a layer of sparking stonelike paint was gently sprayed all over her body, followed by airbrushed veining applied while referring to pictures taken of the original sculpture. When the team stepped back, Katrina looked like the marble twin of the statue she was going to be imitating.

By now the plaster had set up, and the molds were pulled apart with some difficulty because of the hardened overflow. The paint and detail team converged on the three coated figures and performed their fool-the-eye magic on them as well. Now there were four copycat statues, each containing a beautiful woman and at the same time works of art in their own respect. Group Three were ready at last for their assignment.

Finishing up, the bullet-headed scientist had put away his Suspensor machine in the locked cabinet that security precautions demanded, had just switched off the lights, and was ready to leave when he heard a feminine giggle at the entryway, followed by some whispers. He pulled the door open, surprising the members of Group Seven, who were clustered on the other side.

"Explain yourselves!" The Professor demanded.

The young leader, Ylena Luskaya, hesitated for a few seconds before replying. "Comrade Academician, my team were - curious - to know how Group Three have been prepared for their masquerade. Would it be possible...?" She glanced towards the workroom and let her large violet eyes plead her request. Certainly he was old, she understood, but he was still a man.

"Only a very short time. It is against regulations." Despite that, he stepped aside and let the four young women enter, noticing for the first time they were not dressed in their normal uniforms, but rather in more stylish clothes that were cut dramatically to flatter their already sensuous figures. Maybe they had decided to visit one of the western dance clubs that were an underground pleasure in the heart of the empire, he mused.

Looking up at the frozen, plastered, statues that were Group Three, the members of Group Seven gasped with amazement. It was almost magical, one of them said under her voice, venturing up to rap her knuckles on the hardened stony leg of Valentina. She must have had a little dab of makeup left on her hand, because there was a tiny flesh-colored smudge when she pulled away. Enough of a mark that the old man noticed it.

"Do svidaniya, Captain." he said, with an edge in his voice that made it a command. "Enjoy your party tonight," he continued to soften it. After all, they were very beautiful; chivlary had not completely disappeared among his people.

"Oh, we are not going to a party," she replied, "We have our first assignment from the General. Tomorrow we are to be mannequins in the GUM department store window!" She giggled again in excitement. "This evening the staff will prepare us when the store is closed and for the next day we will observe the people in the street while they watch us modeling these decadent fancy clothes. Do stop by and visit us there?" she finished with a coquettish bat of her long dark eyelashes.

The Professor reddened slightly, having thought precisely the same thought. "There is no time for such foolishness. Group Three must be prepared for shipment."

"We all serve the demands of the State," she ended formally, back in her military demeanor but stopping short of a salute. "Thank you, and Good Night, Comrade Academician." Together, Group Seven turned and walked back down the hall, their high-heeled shoes echoing on the tile floor.

"Good Bye, Ylena" he said back to her in a whisper as they turned a corner and disappeared.


To be Continued...

Return to the Story Archive