ARTFULL CRIME - A Re-Imagining

-- adapted and 'feminized' by Magnus from the original tale written by Deirdre Hanson --
-- edited, with a few additional words by Dmuk --

Dierdre noted: I invite others to continue this story, which was inspired by an old "Wonder Woman" TV episode. I would love to read more stories about men being turned into statues, wax figures, and mannequins.

Introduction:  One Ominous Night

Black Canary stepped out into the alley from the back door of the Gibbons Hotel. It was night and only a streetlight light shown down on the buxom blonde crusader. She was to meet an informant there about some recent art thefts at the Capital City Museum.

Dinah Lance had only recently gone back to the classic costume her mother had worn. The tight black bustier leotard, fishnet stockings, and 4 inch heeled boots turned down at the calf.

Being naturally blonde, she had no need for the wig her mother once wore. The decision to go back to the previous look was simple, really; the costume was a diversion, a ruse meant to distract the perps she would apprehend. If they we're busy looking at her figure, they would be easily put off balance and not focused on a fight.

The costume did have its drawbacks though, the cat calls she drew while working in it during the day, though she rarely did. There was always someone around to notice and make a derogatory comment, seemingly eyes were everywhere and she had to get used to the constriction of the tight bodice, as well as get used to wearing pantyhose again. The heels were no problem. She was used to those.

She had made some minor upgrades from the outfit her mother wore, though the costume looked the same; she had added some padding to the front of it from her breasts down to her crotch. The material the costume was made of changed as well. It was made from a deep navy blue Kevlar, as well as her bolero jacket and boots. The dark navy pantyhose she wore shimmered in the light of the streetlight, they were overlayed by the fishnets that accentuated her legs and were made from a run resistant materials.

Around her neck was her choker communicator through which she was in contact with Oracle, aka Barbara Gordon, but that didn't seem to have been working lately and so she hasn't heard from Babs in over a week.

The most drastic alteration to the costume was the thong cut of the leotard that made her legs look delightfully long. Leading, inevitably, to more cat-calls. But then she was getting used to that, too.

Dinah was growing impatient, there were things she needed to do and it was getting late. Out of the corner of her eye she became aware of someone approaching; it wasn't the informant she had been expecting, but a man in his late forties. A bit disheveled an unkept, he appeared to be looking through the trash nearby when he noticed Black Canary standing there.

"O Hey!, I know who you are! Your that Black Canary gal I been readin about in the papers."

"Yeah, you can say that." she responded, not wanting this conversation. She tried to move him along. "You live near here?"

"Nah, I stay over at the mission on 73rd. I was told there was some good junk someone threw away out behind the hotel."

"It's getting late, perhaps you should head back to the shelter?" she said as the rangy homeless man got closer.

"Yeah your right, not much back here," he muttered glumly. "Say would a famous crimefighter like yourself be kind enough to give a down and out guy your autograph," he said, handing her a pen he had hanging around his neck to her along with a small notepad.

"Sure, why not" she replied, taking the pad and pen from him. "Who should I made this out to?"

"Roberts, Henry Roberts," he replied coldly.

"That name sounds familiar,"
she thought as she signed.

A flashing blue light on the pen caught her attention as she felt a tingle go up her right arm making her feel warm and strangely aroused.
She knew something was amiss as the light stopped blinking. Trying as hard as she could, she could not move!

"What is this!, I can't seem to move, my body won't respond."

Dumfounded, Canary could only stand there as Henry moved in. "I don't think your informant will be showing up tonight, Miss Canary, I have my associates stationed at all the entrances to this area; no one will disturb us".

It was then that the man's identity hit her. "You're Henry Roberts - the sculptor! You create statues of people who look very real."

The ruse becomes all too clear as Roberts removes his disguise, revealing a more dapper dressed man in a double breasted suit. "I always wanted a Canary, but my mother wouldn't have of it."

"I'm gonna become one of his statues, Oh, I. . ." Her thoughts were becoming slower; she knew her fate. The arousal she had felt before intensified and she was losing focus on Roberts as he began to remove her bolero jacket from her motionless body, setting it aside.

"He's undressing meee!"

She could feel his cold hands on her back, unzipping her her leotard and pulling it down. She wanted him to touch her explore her. "Wait.. I, I can't,it's wrong, " she thought, fighting off the impulses from the NIM pen.

"You see Miss Canary, you are about to become a part of my collection of superheroines, I've already collected Batgirl, or Oracle, as well as the Huntress; I was able to learn from them a lot about your true identity as well as some other heroines that have recently come in contact with Oracle."

"I set the NIM to immobilize you, just so you would know what happened to your friends. I'm not sure if you're hearing me, but I've tried to make this a most enjoyable experience. I hope you won't cause a fuss like your associate the Huntress. . ."

Dinah was dumbstruck; she couldn't think of anything other than the pleasuable experiences coming from the NIM, she could hear Roberts' voice, but it didn't mean anything to her.

Roberts continued to disrobe Black Canary by pulling down her pantyhose and fishnets.

He then reached into his pocket and produced and 4 inch chrome cylinder that looked an awfully lot like a vibrator, rounded on one end and curved on the other, holding it up in front of her so she could see it clearly.

"This is my advanced Neural Impulse Modulator, you can only guess where it goes," he said as he went behind her and inserted it into her now wet pussy.

"I like to make my subjects slightly aroused when I install these.. makes implanting them alot easier; I think you would agree".

The device was cold and hard, and interrupted the flood of arousal Canary was feeling. "Something being pushed inside me," was all she could think as the interruption quickly subsided and the flow of arousal resumed.

The NIM installed, Roberts began redressing Canary, pulling up her hose and leotard then zipping it up, grinning. Putting her coat back on, Roberts spoke into the cuff of his sleeve. "She's all yours."

Parked not far away, Fulton sat in a van, having all the information relayed to him from the NIM; he had just finished making a label for Black Canary on the control panel when he got the message to proceed. He twisted a knob to select the newest addition and turned a dial to fully pose the heroine.

Back in the alley Canary felt the phallus inside her pulsate, sending her new thoughts, new feelings; she began to relax as Roberts took the pen from her numbed hand. She could feel the muscles in her vagina lock down on the chrome center of her pleasure, trying to milk it dry, as her hands ran up her fishnet-clad thighs, her right one stopped at her crotch and gave one final push on the cylinder as they came rest on her hips and her weight shifted to her left foot.

Her left hand moved up her leotard and grabbed her left lapel on the jacket. A warm smile krept across her face as the new thought entered her mind:

"I am a Henry Roberts statue, I am a Henry Roberts statue," over and over.

Back in the van Fulton turned the knob to 0-Animation, turning 'off' the Blonde Bombshell Black Canary. In seconds she was fully in stasis and stiff as a board.

Roberts, satisfied with the pose they had programmed, went up to her and touched her slim neck. No pulse; he moved down to her breast, the night was cool and allready she felt cool to the touch and very firm. He tested her arm, she was locked into position. Lastly he placed his hand on Canary's crotch, feeling the outer portion of the NIM that smoothed her mound, he was satisfied.

Yet another lovely statue was ready to be added to his collection.

"Lets head back to base."

PART 1:  Several Weeks Later, Days Before the Gallery Opening

Shelley Clark strode purposefully through the large gate in the high wrought iron fencing surrounding her tax preparation business and out into the bright and cool early morning air, just as the sun cleared the hills, a few minutes past seven. Adjusting her lapel on her tan blazer, gently brushing away the light lint dusting her white blouse and neat khaki skirt, Shelley confirmed all the papers where in order, then got into the driver's seat and steered into easy traffic. Fortunate, she thought, that she had decided to head in to work early that morning, hours before any of her employees were due to arrive and the office was set to open, so she could get some long overdue paperwork out of the way. She hadn't even told anyone about her early trip in, and now she was about to deliver quite a hefty account just about equal to a good spring day's take. Yes, she had mused to herself when she had first arrived at work, this is going to be my lucky day... something special... something amazing is going to happen to me...I can feel it. Shelley was very seldom wrong about her hunches.

And, sure enough, just as Shelley had seated herself down at her desk, none other than the distinguished sculptor, Henry Roberts, telephoned.

Shelley had read in the morning paper the announcement of the opening of a two-month exhibition of Roberts' work at the Gotham City Art Museum. The attendance for the engagement was expected to be particularly high due to the unique nature of Roberts' art -- uncannily realistic statues. It was the color photograph accompanying the article which had caught Shelley's eye; it showed one of Roberts' newest figures completed since the last Roberts exhibits -- a beautiful Vegas show girl with a flowing train -- and it had fooled Shelley: she had thought that the photograph accompanied an article about Las Vegas, one of her favorite places. During the last several years, Roberts' statues had become world-renowned for how life-like they were, and Roberts had both his fans and admirers, who regarded him as an artistic genius who pointed out and captured the artistry of the ordinary and everyday, as well as his detractors, who insisted that art seeks to and is meant to interpret life, not merely imitate it.

After she had finished reading the article and swallowed the last of her morning coffee before heading out, Shelley stared at the photograph for a moment. Hmm, the picture's a little bit grainy, she thought to herself, "but take away some of that hair and those feathers, and that showgirl statue looks a lot like an exact image of my friend Jill... haven't seen or heard news of her since she disappeared from Capital City about four months back; it's a close resemblance... hmmm... it really looks like Jill; she could have been the model for it."

In addition to the Showgirl, also to be featured in the exhibit were, among several other figures, life-like statues of some Rockettes, a Policewoman, a Firebreather, a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader, stage legend Ann Margaret, and a Magician's Assistant. "Wish I had nothing to do but stand around all day like that statue," Shelley mused as she looked at the photograph once more, "Or play a cheerleader... I could see myself doing that for quite some time;" she grinned at the thought, curious to see what that Dallas Cowboy cheerleader statue really looked like, if it was as lifelike as the article claimed. She checked her own looks in the rear view mirror one last time, as was her habit, as she approached her destination.

Shelley pulled into the long private driveway and stopped the car at the side entrance to the secluded house and workshop, just as she had been instructed to by Roberts. Rapping lightly on the gate, she soon saw Roberts himself come out to greet her.

"Nice to meet you, Ms. Clark. I'm sorry to call you over on such short notice and at such an early hour," Roberts said, firmly gripping and shaking Shelley's hand. As he did so, he noted that the accountant was not wearing a watch.

"Good to meet you, Mr. Roberts," she smiled back "It was no trouble at all. I'm glad I was in when you telephoned. I'm not usually there that early... I just happened to go in to get a head start on some work."

"How fortunate. Thank you for coming. I very much appreciate it. Only this morning I realized that I had forgotten to arrange for some last minute changes at this afternoon's preview."

"Well, it's all in the brief case." "I could've delivered them to the museum," Shelley said as she followed Roberts into the workshop.

"My men will be installing two newer figures in the museum shortly."

Shelley nodded and looked about the room. Various tools, paint cans, plaster molds, and other assorted equipment lay on the shelves; sketches covered the many tables; and in the middle of the room stood a lone draped figure the size of a petite woman. "This is quite a fancy workshop you've got here."

"Thank you. It's a nice base of operations, a convenient location, but set back from the road for some privacy... a good arrangement." Roberts went to his desk and shuffled papers about until he found the forms he needed. As he turned back toward Shelley, he noticed the accountant's interest in the figure underneath the cloth.

She blushed a little and admitted "I saw the article and the photograph in this morning's paper about the exhibit. How long does it take to complete a statue like that Showgirl one?"

"My statues don't take as long to complete as one might think. However, sometimes it does take several months to secure just the right materials and model; but I think it's worth the wait, don't you? As for my lovely showgirl, with that particular statue, I had a difficult time deciding what I wanted her to be... a horseplayer deciding on a thoroughbred and calculating her wagers, a dancer, a cocktail waitress. So many possibilities. I finally settled on a Showgirl. That one was prepared four months ago. She turned out rather nicely, don't you think? She makes quite a fine statue."

Shelley nodded. She noticed that the sculptor had frequently referred to the statue as 'she' and 'her'. "Is this one of the new statues for the show?" Shelley gestured toward the draped figure.

"I put the finishing touches on her this morning, a moment ago, just before you arrived." Roberts lifted the white sheet with a flourish to reveal a beautiful uniformed Hooters Girl holding a platter of hotwings. Shelley was amazed at how realistic the statue looked. She wanted to reach out and touch the figure, to convince herself that it was not just one of Roberts' associates posing and standing still. Sensing this, Roberts coaxed, "Go ahead, Ms. Clark...touch her."

Shelley, a little embarrassed at first, hesitated, but then couldn't help herself. Reaching out, Shelley ran her hand along the statue's arm and carefully touched its face. The figure felt quite cool, solid and hard, like a store mannequin, but it was surprising and astounding how life-like the statue was... the appearance of its skin texture, the proportion of the body parts, the curve of the face and breasts, as if it were a real woman standing before her. If the figure hadn't felt so rigid, cold, and firm, Shelley would have, based on its appearance, found it difficult to believe that the statue wasn't a real, living woman standing motionless before her. Little did Shelley know that people would be saying the same about her in just a few hours.

"Amazing!" Shelley remarked enthusiastically. "I look forward to seeing the show."

"You'll be there, I assure you, as my personal guest," smiled Roberts. "As a matter of fact, as I said, I have to arrange for one more statue for the preview, one I've been trying to secure for some months, so if you'll just take this pen and the paperwork for your signature, I'll be able to complete work on the last figure and finish things up for this afternoon's reception." Roberts pulled a pen from his pocket and offered it, along with various forms, to the accountant. Shelley had noted Roberts' peculiar tone and odd phrasing, but she took the pen to sign her name to the papers.

Meanwhile, in the back room, Fulton kept his eye on a large computer console and a video screen monitoring the workshop. The moment Shelley gripped the pen, the computer sparked to life and began its series of swift computations. The computer monitor displayed a number of wavy, jittery lines, which indicated Shelley's physical and brain activity. There also appeared a three-dimensional outline of Shelley's body which mimicked Shelley's position and movements. In seconds, the computer accurately and thoroughly recorded all of Shelley's physiological information, and, based on that data, calculated, in a just few seconds more, the proper electronic signals and frequencies which, when sent streaming through her body via the Neural Impulse Modulator attached to the pen, would effectively and very precisely turn her off, literally transforming Shelley from a living human being into a mere inanimate object, in seconds converting her into something resembling a very life-like department store mannequin or a waxworks figure or, in this case, transforming Shelley simply and quite easily into the very newest Henry Roberts statue; the final statue Roberts had planned for the exhibition preview. Within the state of total suspension induced by Roberts' device, the subject's body ceases all of its functions. Not only is their animation suspended, but everything physiological is placed into complete stasis, with no breakdown or decay.

Now, the necessary readings and calculations complete, a green light on the console blinked, signifying that the computer was ready to perform its statue-ization process on Shelley. Fulton, just as he had done several times before, pressed the button marked "0-Animation." The green light turned yellow, and the computer began transmitting its special mannequinizing signals silently coursing through her body. Watching the monitor, Fulton could see Shelley's movements slow. In just a few moments, the beautiful woman would become nothing more than a piece of exquisite life-like statuary.

Shelley bent over the table to sign the forms. Roberts could see the fine impression her ass made pressing through the seat of her dress. Shelley felt a warm and pleasant tingle sweep up her arm and quickly spread throughout the rest of her body making her feel aroused. As she straightened, she felt her muscles tightening and stiffening, but dismissed the sensation as fatigue. She looked to Roberts and smiled. Shelley wanted to extend a handshake, but she suddenly found that she could no longer move: Her arms remained at her sides, and even her face remained frozen with its smile. As hard as she tried, she remained motionless and soon felt frozen like the statue of the Showgirl in the newspaper photograph and the Hooters Girl statue standing less than a foot away from her; she couldn't help but feel a strange kinship with them.

Shelley began to panic and tried to concentrate, but found that she could not focus her thoughts. She found it harder to breathe, but oddly felt that she would soon no longer need to. As her eyes became fixed in their sockets and glazed over, a curious thought began to repeat in her mind -- "...statue... Henry Roberts statue... I am a Henry Roberts statue" -- the computer transmitted this message, via the NIM unit, through Shelley's body, and into her brain, strangely soothing and calming her. Shelley then relaxed and let the process take control of her.

Indeed, she had no choice.

The last image she saw was Roberts smiling at her and nodding. Then her mind went blank, and the computer registered no brain activity or physiological functions. Fulton had watched the lines on the monitor grow less jagged until they lay completely flat across the screen. Less than a minute following the push of the computer's "0-Animation" button, the process was complete, and a blue light burned on the console, indicating a successful transformation. Shelley had effectively undergone the first and most important phase in becoming a Henry Roberts statue.

Fulton entered the workshop as Roberts studied what would soon become his latest completed work of art. Shelley stood completely still beside the table where she had signed her name, the pen still gripped tightly in her hand. Standing there just as she was, Shelley was a perfect statue of herself as a stunning accountant, but Roberts had something else in mind for her. A moment later, Edwards entered through the side door.

"Help Ms. Clark onto the worktable and out of her clothes," Roberts directed them. Fulton and Edwards stood on either side of the stiffened form and tilted it back, one taking hold of the legs and the other supporting the head and shoulders. Shelley's body was now quite rigid and locked into position. Carefully lifting her so as not to knock the pen loose, they carried Shelley over to the main table and gently laid her down on its smooth surface. Roberts placed his hand on Shelley's chest, as if feeling for a heartbeat. Nothing. Roberts knew that there wouldn't be any, but he had made a habit of this after each transformation.

Fulton and Edwards then began stripping Shelley -- removing her blazer, the glasses from her face, cutting away her blouse, taking off the skirt, pumps and pantyhose, - - until the beautiful woman lay on the table completely naked. Roberts looked admiringly at the gorgeous face and the tight firm, fit body, still positioned exactly as it had been when the NIM unit had taken control of it.

Roberts ran his hand over the skin and could feel Shelley's body already firming up. Shelley's body was still warm, but it was quickly cooling. In a few hours, by the time of her unveiling as a Henry Roberts statue at the exhibition preview, Shelley would be nicely hardened and be nearly as cold as the rest of the Roberts statues on display in the exhibit and even the marble statues standing on pedestals in the museum's other rooms. Anyone who touched her would believe the same about her as she had about the statue of the Hooters Girl.

Roberts had done this to several dozen women since the start of his "sculpting career" eight years ago, stocking exhibits with females statue-ized by his ingenious device, but each time he saw the results, he felt a thrill, that he had invented a mechanism that could effectively transform a living woman into a perfect mannequin and, if desired, back again.

He looked up from the newest figure on the table and over at the Hooters Girl standing rigidly nearby, a statue which, as he had told Shelley, he'd completed only moments before Shelley's arrival. Malena, one of Roberts' women, had attempted to blackmail Roberts, threatening to inform the police about whom was responsible for countless disappearances and about what had happened to those missing women, if she did not receive a larger bonus for each woman she brought in. But Malena grew careless and didn't notice the NIM unit secured inside her vibrator. The moment Malena slipped it in a few nights later, Fulton was ready; he pressed the button and the computer did its work. The next morning Fulton and Edwards found Malena stiffened in her home, laying motionless in her bed in the throes of passion with the vibrator buried in her cunt. They placed a sheet over her voluptuous body, lifted her into the back of the van, and presented her to Roberts back at the workshop. Malena had been statue-ized and posed days ago, but they had only just finished costuming her when Shelley rapped at the gate. Malena Sanders, a woman who had assisted Roberts in transforming so many living women into statues, had been transformed into a perfect statue herself.

Roberts also thought back about the statue of the Showgirl. Indeed, it was Shelley's friend, Jill Kent, whom Roberts had spotted in a bookshop one night while scouting for potential statues. Miss Kent had the face, build, and bearing of a movie star, like a young Sandra Bullock, that Roberts wanted for his collection of mannequinized women. With Jill in the store at the same time was Shelley, whom Roberts already envisioned as a statue of a Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader. Roberts waited and caught Jill Kent as she closed shop the next night and left by the back entrance. Fortunately, the entrance opened onto a quiet alley, so no one was around to witness or interrupt Jill's transformation into a statue. "So easy," Roberts said to Malena as he stepped from the van to meet her.

"Excuse me, Miss...I understand that you buy antiquarian books. I know you've just closed, but could you take a look at what I have?" Roberts had placed books from his own collection in the back of the van.

"Sure, let's see what you have." As Kent leaned in to read the titles, Roberts could see the outline of Jill's ass through her black pants, but also noticed that she wore a metal watchband.

"You've got some nice things," Jill finally said, "but the day's deposits have already been sent to the bank, so I can't offer you anything tonight in cash. If you come back tomorrow, we could make you a good offer."

"Unfortunately, I need to take care of this tonight." Roberts offered his hand to Kent. "But, thank you for your trouble."

"Not at all," replied Jill. As they shook hands, Roberts, well-practiced sleight-of-hand easily attached a Neural Impulse Modulator unit to Kent's watch. A warm tingling spread from Jill's wrist almost immediately after Roberts had gripped and shaken her hand.

"Fortunately, you are going to help me in another way, Mrs. Kent. You see, I also collect statues... that is, I collect women, like you, my beauty, whom I transform into statues, and you will make quite a fine statue." Before Jill could respond, she felt a tightening throughout her body as it stiffened into place: her arm remained slightly raised, as if still waiting for a handshake, and the small smile Kent gave Roberts was fixed on her face. As Roberts stepped back, Jill's body locked into position, and just as Shelley would experience four months later, Jill found it hard to concentrate, and her breathing slowed. As she tried futilely to move, her eyes became fixed, staring straight ahead, and she could only see Roberts smiling in front of her and nodding while Malena was getting out of the front of the van and stepped behind her, out of view.

Kent thought of the department store mannequins in windows down the street; "I want to be one of them," she thought as soon as the computer transmitted its message into his brain: "I am Jill Kent, and I am a Henry Roberts statue...I am a Henry Roberts statue." As she stiffened, she felt Malena take firm hold of her from behind, lift her, and carefully set her in the van so that she lay next to the books that she had just examined. A sheet was thrown over her rigid body, and Jill felt a sense of calm as her mind went blank. Back at the console, Fulton had watched the monitor with its flat lines and bright blue light confirm the successful suspension.

Roberts and Malena drove with Jill's statue-ized body back to the workshop. As they did with each woman, Malena and Fulton placed Jill on the worktable and removed her clothes, until she lay exposed in only her thong underwear. Roberts smiled at Jill's athletic build and beautiful face. In less than an hour, Jill became a perfect Henry Roberts statue, an NIM unit of her own slipped into her pussy and held securely in place by her new thong panties. Her brain reprogrammed, Jill was costumed and repositioned as a Showgirl and put into long term suspension. Placed in the quiet storage of his private gallery, she patiently waited over the next four months for her museum debut as a Henry Roberts' statue, joined by other local women who had disappeared and had been statue-ized: Jill's friend, Julie Edwards; Terry, Julies's sister; Lee Matthews, a local actress; Katie McArthur, a Gotham attorney; and Petra Forester, a professor at Gotham University, among others.

Bringing his thoughts back to the present, he focused on the pleasant task at hand. As his latest art piece lay on the worktable, Roberts scanned the computer files for the measurements of Shelley's body: the reach of the arms and legs, the expanse of the chest and size of the waist; everything, even ring and hat sizes. Edwards hung a Dallas Cowboys cheerlader uniform on a rack next to the worktable as Fulton sat at the console. Edwards handed Roberts a pair of special tight-fitting pantyhose. Roberts pulled them up Shelley's trim legs until the distinct impression of her pubic mound pressed against the gusset. A snug, neat fit. Edwards then placed a smooth, oblong metal cylinder in Roberts' hand. Roberts carefully reached under the pantyhose and slipped the device into Shelley's crotch, plunging it deep into her pussy. This NIM unit cupped the pubic mound perfectly, effectively concealing it and leaving a smooth bulge through the material of the suntan pantyhose. Fulton activated the new NIM unit in Shelley's new pantyhose; Roberts gently slipped the pen from the statue's fingers and smiled as Shelley remained motionless, the grin still fixed on her face.


Roberts had not always affixed the NIM units so securely to his statues. He had displayed women kept in suspension by NIM units attached to rings, wrist watches, and the like; at first there were no incidents of tampering during the early exhibitions of the lifelike statues. Six years ago, however, after a gallery exhibiting his women had just closed after a busy weekend, Roberts was speaking with the curator when a guard entered the office and handed him a ring. Roberts recognized it as containing the NIM unit regulating the stasis of a studio executive he had transformed into a statue of a lingere model. The guard said a woman had turned it in, apologizing for her daughter, who had slipped it off the statue's finger as a souvenir a half an hour earlier.

Roberts excused himself and quickly made his way alone to the gallery where his statues were being displayed. The statue of the model, originally fashioned nearly a year earlier, had been posed leaning on her left foot, a look of wistful arousal fixed on her face. Now, Roberts found the model swaying slightly in position, its head nodding and its left hand, which had been placed on its hip, hanging loosely at its side. The legs were positioned awkwardly, as if the statue had tried to step off the platform. Its eyes blinked, and the look of frustration had been replaced by an expression of struggle, as if the woman were fighting off the NIM unit's effects and trying to return to a human state, now that the ring had been dislodged. Roberts looked at his watch: nearly forty-five minutes elapsed since the NIM unit had been removed. Based on experimentation with statues whose NIM units had been removed without treating their bodies to proper reanimation procedures, he determined it took an average woman approximately one hour for every year spent in statuary suspension to regain normal animation. Within fifteen minutes, this woman would have found herself locked in a museum, unable to remember what had been done to her, and Roberts' secret would have been exposed.

"Time to get back to work, Alana," Roberts chided the perplexed model softly. "You've had your little break, and now it's time to assume your position once more." He took hold of Alana's left hand and felt the warmth and suppleness returning to her body. There was a slow, but distinct, pulse. Roberts was about to return the ring to the statue's finger when, suddenly, Alana's hand tightly gripped Roberts'. Startled, Roberts let go and could see Alana blink more rapidly and take in a few deep breaths.

"Uh... wh...where am I? What happened?" Alana looked about the dim room and raised her hands to rub her face like one who had just woken from sleep. "Henry," she said, recognizing Roberts, "...I feel so strange, so stiff." Alana stepped down from the platform.

Roberts regained his composure and smiled. "Alana, we're at the museum."

Alana was thoroughly confused, her mind still foggy. "I don't remember coming here. How did I get into these. . . clothes?" Alana asked, looking down at the sheer teddy she had on. Looking about again, she suddenly noticed the other figures in the gallery. "Who are all of these women?" She caught sight of a familiar face across the room. "Is that Jess? Jess, what's going on?" she waved to a statue of a Starfleet Yeoman. Nothing. Puzzled by her friend's silence, Alana stiffly walked over to her, ignoring the other motionless figures in the gallery. "Jess...what's wrong?" She touched Jess' arm, nearly knocking the figure over, but the statue merely teetered stiffly and remained motionless. Alana looked into the Yeoman's beautiful face. "What's happened to her?" He reached up and felt Jess' face. It was hardened, firm and cold. "She's like... a mannequin."

"She is a mannequin... as you were and will be again in just a moment, Alana. You see, Jess is now one of my statues, just as you have been for the last year." Alana continued struggling to understand what was being said and what had happened to her and her friend. "Now it's time for you to rejoin your friend in a state of suspended animation. It's very simple really." Roberts held up Alana's ring for her to see. "I just slip this onto your finger, and you'll become a statue again, just like your friend, Jess. Now, concentrate... you are a statue... you are a Henry Roberts statue."

Alana did not fully comprehend what Roberts said, but felt compelled to obey. As she held out her hand and let Roberts take hold of it, the odd, yet comforting phrases surfaced from somewhere in the back of her mind, and Alana softly repeated it -- "I am a Henry Roberts statue...I am Henry Roberts statue..." -- and the words began to loop through her brain. Roberts then slipped the ring back onto the woman's finger. Alana gasped softly and instantly stopped moving in a few seconds. Her face then gradually grew expressionless as her body readjusted itself to the statue-izing signal generated by her NIM unit. Then, slowly and smoothly, Alana's body repositioned itself automatically into the pose programmed into the NIM unit.

Roberts picked up the fan and pressed it into Alana's curled fingers so that her right hand gripped it firmly. Alana raised her left hand and rested it back onto her hip; her legs shifted and stiffened underneath her, and the look of wistfull arousal molded itself onto her face once more, and Alana, back to being a living, breathing woman for a short moment just a few seconds earlier, was a beautiful statue of a lingerie model once again, looking exactly as it had for the last year. Already the warmth that the reanimated Alana figure had generated during the last hour was quickly dissipating.

"Very nice, Alana." He patted the frozen model's arm and could feel the hardness quickly returning to the body. "Yes, that's it." Roberts firmly gripped Alana's now properly posed and stiffened form from behind and carefully stood it back onto its pedestal. He adjusted the model's teddy and made certain that the NIM ring was snugly in place on the statue's finger. He noticed tiny beads of sweat on the forehead and temples and reached up and touched Alana's moist skin. Roberts took out his handkerchief and carefully mopped the perspiration from the statue's cooling brow. He then realized that he'd been perspiring as well and dabbed his own forehead and smiled. As he stood admiring the restored figure, the guard stepped into the gallery.

"Everything okay in here, Mr. Roberts?" he asked as he stood next to the sculptor.

"Yes, as you can see, the statue is fine... no harm done... no harm done."

"Glad to hear it." The guard looked up at Alan. "Shee looks like she could walk right off the platform any second."

"That she does!" He agreed wryly. It had been far too close. "Now I think I'll be getting back to Mr. Bedford. Thanks for calling this to my attention." Relieved, Roberts returned to the curator.

With the museum closed the next day, Roberts spent the morning fixing the NIM units more securely to each statue. In a few days, he devised the NIM module and spent another monday slipping them into each of the statue's pussys. Alana had been the only incident of tampering. Since then, no woman Roberts had statue-ized had ever been reanimated without his authorization. The NIM unit's placement was ideal, held securely in place by each woman's vaginal muscles, so there was little chance of its displacement, and its position over the crotch protected the pussy, preventing anyone from feeling it through the clothing.


With the transfer of suspension complete, Fulton pressed another button, and Shelley's body became more pliable, so it could easily be costumed, but all physical and mental functions remained in stasis. Roberts lowered the arms and legs onto the table, and Shelley's face lost its grin and became expressionless, the eyes staring blanking into space.

"Help Ms. Clark finish dressing. We can't have our Cheerleader standing around in her pantyhose. Use the pom-poms, grow the hair a bit longer, and add some stage makeup to the face. That should help safeguard our statue's identity while it's here in Capital City." Fulton and Edwards went to work on Shelley, just as they had done with the others... shaving Julie Edwards' pubic mound, or darkening Lee Matthews' hair. Other features could be altered by computer, such as stimulating miraculous and quick growth to fill out Jill Kent's A-cup breasts and to give her a new nose in a half an hour, just as they would have the computer lengthen Shelley's blonde hair. The computer was even able to soften Terry Edwards' age-worn complexion and to give Petra Forester an even greater resemblance to Ann Margaret.

Roberts sat at the computer console and looked at a three-dimensional image of Shelley's body. As Fulton and Edwards dressed the body that lay on the work table, Roberts pushed a series of buttons on the console and manipulated Shelley's computer image into a variety of positions until he settled on a stance and pose which befitted a magnificent Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader and would best show off Shelley's assets. Then, once the subject was ready, a simple push of a computer button would activate "the cheerleader" program, which would manipulate Shelley's body and limbs into the pose that the computer image of her held.

By the time Roberts' assistants had finished costuming Shelley, the program was ready for transmission through her NIM unit. Fulton and Edwards carefully lifted Shelley from the table and steadied her on her block-heeled cowboy-booted feet. Roberts pressed the program button, and Shelley's body smoothly moved into position -- shifting its legs and placing its right hand upon a lowrise belt, the other hand raised to the air holding a pom-pom, as if in greeting. The head was cocked slightly to one side, and the lips spread into a wistful grin. The movements reminded Roberts of the automated mannequins in store windows and Disneyland attractions. In fact, Roberts had just completed such a figure. A few days earlier, he had secured Stephanie Phillips, who now already stood motionless and smiling at the gallery entrance, dressed in formal attire. Roberts had programmed her for very simple movements and gestures. When activated, Phillips would stiffly and repeatedly greet people as they entered to view the Roberts collection of statues.

Once Shelley's body was properly posed, the computer again transmitted its "0-Animation" impulses, and Shelley again stiffened. Fulton and Edwards let go of Shelley, and the now newly-completed statue stood on its own in a perfectly stable and balanced stance. Although she had only been under "0-Animation" less than an hour, Shelley's body was becoming more accustomed to this state and firmed up more quickly. It wouldn't take long for the mannequin state of any woman Roberts transformed to become that woman's more natural condition. Indeed, if a woman were kept in suspension long enough, the transformation became permanent. This had first happened to Jeri Martin, one of his graduate student assistants at the University when Roberts conducted research in the effects of electricity on the human body, and one of Roberts' colleagues at the University, Dr. Samantha Barrett.

To keep permanent statue-ization from occurring, Roberts devised a program whereby the computer periodically sent special electronic impulses through each woman's body. These impulses allowed each woman to emerge briefly from suspension before returning her to a statue-ized state once more. For a few seconds, each woman's bodily functions were set into motion... she could hear, smell, and see, and take in and expel a breath, and her heart would beat momentarily. But at the threshold of movement, the "0-Animation" impulses again would stream through the body, and each woman is turned off once more.

Roberts looked over at the computer console's blue light and smiled. He walked up to Shelley and put his hand on his new statue's shoulder. The transformed woman felt pleasingly solid and firm. Roberts was more than satisfied with his newest figure. "Shelley, I've had my eye on you for the last four months. I'm so glad you could finally join my collection of statues. You make an excellent addition."

With the programmed wistful grin fixed on her face, Shelley seemed pleased with Roberts' assessment of her, now an exquisite Cowboys Cheerleader mannequin figure, standing stiffly and motionless and staring into space. "There are some people who would like to meet you this afternoon. As you know, your arrival has already been announced in this morning's paper. You've been able to join the other women just in time."  



This one had been easy, Roberts reflected, letting his thoughts drift to one particular evening months before when things had not been so simple.

Helena Kyle was in her element, as Huntress she owned the night with lithe feline grace, superhuman strength, and catlike vison. Dressed in form-fitting black leather slacks, block-heeled boots, figure-enhancing decolletege-exposing corseted bustier, and diaphanous cape, she blended into the shadows like a wraith. Her chestnut hair was close-cropped into a helmet that framed her heart-shaped face; around her neck she wore a necklace that also concealed her communication device inside the medallion. Bounding from rooftop to rooftop, she loved the serenity all darkness brought her, along with the anonymity. Daytime for Huntress was rest time; time for mundane things. Evenings were when she felt truly alive, truly part of something larger than herself. As night's veil covered the face of Gotham once more, Huntress was on the prowl.

She loved neon; the bright colors of the glowing gas and the stormy-sweet smell of electricity flowing through the air. One of her favorite places to hang out was a terrace just below a huge advertising sign that bathed her figure in a rainbow of pinks, yellows, whites, blues, and golds. The skyline of the City was laid out in front of her while in the distance she could discern the planes coming into and out of the airport. Sounds of traffic, music, the random sounds of activity filtered up from below, creating a background for the scene. Helena closed her eyes and breathed in the distinctive smells carried upon the night air.

A burst of static interrupted her reverie; someone was trying to get in contact with her. She focused her attention on the communicator, turning away from the lights.

"untress, Huntress: Please... respond?" The voice was that of Oracle, formerly Batgirl; her friend, mentor, and fellow 'Bird of Prey'.

"Go ahead, Oracle."

"I've picked up a report... of a crime in progress... outside the old Aquarium... in the park."

"Got it; I'll check things out," she replied with a grin. Time to stretch those muscles. But yet, there was something else tickling her mind. "Oracle, are you OK? You sound a little strange."

"I am a... I am fine, Huntress. just feeling a little... stiff tonight," Oracle responded in a deliberate, almost mechanical, manner.

"Well, all right. Mind if I stop by later to say 'hi'?" Helena was puzzled. Oracle hadn't spoken any of their pre-arranged 'danger words' but the whole conversation didn't jibe with what her feminine intuition was telling her.

"Tomorrow is the beginning of midterms; I should get... some rest," the voice explained. In her public persona of Barbara Gordon, Batgirl/Oracle taught at the local university yet managed to keep her superheroine duties separate from her 'day job'. Normally. "Good Night, Huntress," she concluded, then the communication channel clicked off. Without confirmation or salutation from Helena. Oracle certainly seemed in a particular mood tonight.

Putting that aside, Huntress remembered there was a duty calling as she set off at a run and cleared the first gap between the buildings with feet to spare. Picking her course was a kind of game for her, as well as a challenge. Speed, stealth, and style factored into her choices; safety did not. She swung around a window-washing crane and plummeted hundreds of feet downward, bat-like cape streaming behind her as she alighted on all fours, resuming her run with scarcely a hesitation. The next gap was wider still, almost fifty feet, so Huntress built up to her highest speed before leaping from the tip of the cornice; this was one of the challenging parts. The moments in the air seemed to stretch out; she had time to glance down at the lines of traffic far below and hear the wingbeats of the pigeons she had startled into motion. Then the tuck-and-roll landing that she acrobatically converted into a short jump with one artistic twist she just had to throw in because she felt like it this evening. There was no one around to see her dazzling performance.

Minutes later, she arrived to the sounds of a scuffle below. Peering over the edge, Huntress sees a gang of two men and a woman surrounding a nattily-dressed businessman who has wandered into the wrong part of town at the wrong time. Two of them brandish knives, while the third grips a metal bar or pipe, swinging it to draw their quarry's attention..

"Try to run and we'll drop you!" The leader commanded.

"Don't shoot; I don't have much money -- Take it all, but don't hurt me!" The man pleads pointlessly. He is tall and thin, aristocratic, graying at the temples, dressed in a suit that looks like walking money.

"We will. Now, give us the briefcase..." Sneers the woman.

"NO! Not that..." he tries to back away, realizes he's trapped. The gang starts to close in.

Huntress lands catlike, in a crouch, with barely a sound behind the man closest to the 5-story building she's just jumped from. He hears a slight thump and turns, just in time for her to land a flurry of blows to his torso, face and legs, the latter taking the man down into the dirt of the alley before he knows what's happened. One last precise kick to his temple knocks the thug unconscious just as the other two are turning to look at the lithe black-cloaked avenger.

The second man knows some martial skills as he drops into a crouch, holding the pipe at the ready; Huntress steps around him, shifting position so she can keep the third attacker in view at the same time. Then she launches a roundhouse kick, forcing him onto the defensive as she continues her rotation, scissoring low to knock him down. With a vertical hop, he evades the move, then twirls and brings the metal pipe down to strike. She grabs the weapon and absorbs the momentum by rolling onto her back, flipping him over her into the side of a dumpster several feet away, where he hits with a thud and a painful groan before falling to the ground and remaining there.

"Run!" she yells over her shoulder to the businessman, who's watching the fighting intently, fixated on her as if it were some kind of TV show.

The woman is circling to Huntress' left, flicking the knife from one hand to another. "Bring it, bitch!" she taunts, moving back towards the businessman, who is now fumbling in his briefcase for something.

"No, mister, I really don't need any help," Huntress thinks, "after all, there are only three of them..." She feints to the right, then lunges forward, kicking towards the attacker at just the right instant to catch her knife in mid-flick and launch it into a lazy arc that carries it deep into the shadows where a metallic clang can be heard as the blade hits the concrete.

The woman seems astounded at being disarmed so easily, then she looks sideways at the businessman and... smiles?

He is smiling, too, as he aims a snub-nosed large bore gun at the shapely heroine standing less than two meters away. "So nice of you to drop in, Huntress; why don't you stay a while?" Before she can react, he fires. She feels a sting right in the middle of her breastbone, practically the only area of exposed skin on her entire costume, then a spreading numbness. Taking a small step towards him, she feels a stiffness in her long legs and struggles to fight the drug or whatever is stealing away her energy with every passing second.

"Why did....?" she manages to say before her voice fades off into silence. Huntress seems rooted to the spot, unmoving.

"Why indeed, my lovely Bird of Prey," he replies suavely, lowering the gun for the moment and approaching. Behind her, the man who she had thrown gets uneasily to his feet. The businessman continues "Allow me to introduce myself: I am Henry Roberts, the famed hyper-realist artist. And you are about to become my newest artwork, soon to join your cohort the Oracle - or should I say Batgirl - on permanent display in the museum as a statue of unmatched versimillitude."

Addressing the woman and the man, Roberts directs them, "Take her communicator necklace and replace it with this one," he says, taking a duplicate of the choker out of his briefcase. "The NIM-darts have only a thirty-minute duration, after all, but that is more than enough time I should think."

The pair approach the immobilized superheroine; the woman reaches for the clasp at the back of Huntress' neck, holding the NIM-equipped replica in her other hand. Suddenly Huntress springs into action, only slightly slowed by the dart's effects, elbowing the woman aside then flowing into a kick that catches the man on the back of the head as he tries to twist away. Grunting "Uhhhhnn!" he hits the ground heavily but manages to roll away. Huntress makes a move for the businessman, Roberts, and the gun but he's anticipated her action and has stepped back, aiming once more. He pulls the trigger.

Returning lighting-fast reflexes allow Huntress to sweep her kevlar-reinforced palms in the dart's path and deflects it away with a 'ting' sound. There is a cry of surprise from her left as the woman, still holding the replica bracelet, sees the NIM-dart embedded in her forearm an instant before every muscle in her body locks solid and she topples backwards like a dummy, the shocked expression frozen on her face.

Huntress knows she won't be able to outrun the bullet every time. "Time to fly and fight another day," she tells herself, picking her escape route. Turning away, she's grabbed in a bear-hug by the henchman who only manages to contain the heroine for a moment before she breaks free with a double-chop to the man's collarbone. She is less than a meter away from being able to spring up to catch the fire escape ladder and climb to safety when she feels another sting to her right buttock. This time the dart's effect is felt more deeply; her jump falters as her leg muscles respond sluggishly. "That isn't going to work - disarm him before it's too late!" Huntress changes her mind; there is still an exceptional energy and an uncommon will within her stunning supermodel body. Reversing course, she half-jumps, half-skips, covering the distance to Roberts surprisingly quickly as he takes aim again at the rapidly moving target. She picks her move mid-flight; an arabesque kick, upwards and sideways, deflecting the weapon away from where the injured henchman could reach it easily.

Huntress plants her ground foot and kicks.

Roberts steadies his arm and squeezes the trigger.

Her kick connects with the gun just after the NIM-dart leaves the muzzle. The gun flies away in precisely the path she had planned.

The dart hits her under the chin, plunging its electrodes into the soft tissue of her jaw, transmitting its stasis-inducing signals into her nervous system, joining the strength of the other two darts that are still lodged in her body.

Huntress remains locked in position, held unmoving in mid-kick like a life-sized action figure. Roberts approaches, this time more warily, again suspecting a trick. He's picked up the necklace from where the woman accomplice dropped it. Huntress does not budge as he reaches around her neck and removes the original communicator, but her eyes are able to glance around. "What... do you... hope... to... a..chieve?" she whispers, barely able to speak.

"Still the fighter, I see, to the last," Roberts clucks. "This full-strength NIM unit will ensure your new role as a statue of yourself will not be interrupted. Soon you and your friends will be safely out of our way, forever. Think what crimes can be committed when the guardians of the city are all standing in my gallery exhibition, as stiff and powerless as mannequins in a department store window!" He says this last part triumphantly as he finishes fastening the replacement communicator in place around her slim neck.

A limping henchman approaches, carrying the briefcase. Roberts looks up to see him, tattered and dirty, clearly the worse for wear in the fight with Huntress. "Fulton, our latest acquisition is ready for processing. You may do the honors..."

"With pleasure, Boss," he grunts, eyeing the immobilized Huntress before pressing the button labeled '0 Animation' on the control panel. Both watch as the NIM activates, sending its signals thoroughout the body of Helena Kyle, turning her 'off' as she enters a state of electronically induced stasis.

She feels her muscles stiffening up, along with an unexpected feeling of - pleasure? - deep within her sex. She cannot stop the climax as it gains intensity; her pupils dilate just in time to freeze in place, along with her faint expression of joy. Within her mind, a veil is being drawn, a cloud of darkness absorbing all her thoughts and dreams into perfect timeless oblivion.

On the control panel, a blue light blinks on, signalling the completion of Huntress' suspension of animation. All her bodily and mental functions have been turned off; her shapely body is nothing more than a lifelike sculpture now, an homage to herself. Her body begins to cool and harden; preserved, unchanging until some future time when she might be reactivated.

"Well, that was simple enough," Roberts says wryly, gazing upon the dynamically posed statue.

"Sheesh!" exclaims Fulton. "That cutesy broad kicked my butt!"

"No time to waste, my good man; let's get the Huntress and Melena figures into the van and strapped down, then collect poor Edwards before somebody comes along and mugs him. Who knows, maybe someone has even alerted the police by now. Hurry on!" Roberts urged them, thoughts seething about how his plan had almost failed and of ways to make the NIM-darts more powerful to handle the superheroines who were his quarry.

Huntress had no way of knowing what would become of her now; her last vision as the veil of oblivion clouded her eyes in darkness was of the clear starlit sky above.


Roberts had nearly finished gathering all of the women whom he had wanted statue-ized for the new show. Only a few other important heroines remained to be secured and transformed into statues for the official opening, one week away... plenty of time, he thought, but first. . . a little preview of my 'art'.

Roberts looked at his watch. Only an hour ago Shelley had been a living, breathing, functioning woman, rapping on the gate to his estate; now, transformed into a piece of fine art, she stood proudly as a Henry Roberts statue, and her wish had come true — Shelley would have a chance to simply stand around and play a cheerleader, for quite some time as well. Something very special had happened to her after all.

Fulton draped a white sheet over the new figure, and he and Edwards carried the statue out and placed it in the van next to the Hooters Girl statue that Malena now was. Kent, Edwards, Matthews, McArthur and the other statue-ized women had already been transported to the museum, and Fulton would take care of Shelley's car later. The preview would begin in three hours. Everything was going perfectly.

Roberts arrived at the Capital City Museum shortly before the preview. Arranging the statues about the main gallery, Fulton set the statue of the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader in the middle of the room, where it would act as the centerpiece of the preview, until the few final statues, yet to be secured, were unveiled at the official opening. Meanwhile Edwards adjusted hotwings platter on the Hooters Girl's stiffened and motionless hands. These two additions rounded out the show nicely, thought Roberts. In one corner stood the Showgirl perpetually on her chorus line. The statues that had once been Jill Kent and Shelley Clark now stood only a few feet apart from each other. The last time they had been together was the evening before Kent was statue-ized. These and sixteen other female figures, ranging from a College Student to a Superheroine, comprised the bulk of the exhibition, titled, "Here We Stand." The Phillips statue stood near the entrance, ready to greet the guests.

Edwards straightened the pillbox cap on his mother, posed as a statue of a distinguished, aging flight attendant with graying strands in her hair, the final figure to be inspected before letting in the crowds. Modeling a new, miniskirted, uniform Tara embodied the very attractive 'older' woman. Seeing to each detail, Edwards tapped the crotch of the statues, making certain that the NIM modules were securely in place within each woman's pussies as they monitored the suspension of the women, as he was doing now with her, feeling for the NIM unit covering his mother's sex.

Finally, Roberts stood before the cocktail-dressed figure at the entrance and pulled a small control box, labeled, "Phillips," from his pocket. Pressing the button marked, "Automation," he set the statue into motion. Phillips tipped her head, bowed slightly, and straightened. After a moment's pause, the figure repeated the simple movements and would do so precisely and continuously until Roberts pressed the "0-Automation" button. When Phillips bowed, Roberts could see the top of her pantyhose through the back of her dress; he smiled, knowing that it was Phillips' pantyhose that held the NIM unit snugly in place, keeping Phillips under Roberts' control.



Drusilla Prince stepped into the gallery as the doors opened for the latest Henry Roberts' preview. Like others, she was intrigued by the article and photo in the paper and wanted a close-up view of the statues. In the main room, she saw several figures draped with cloth. After a few minutes, Roberts appeared.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentleman. I do want to thank all of you for attending this preview of my upcoming show. Actually, I do prefer to call it a 'reception,' because, as you can see, there are some people who have just arrived, and I do want you to meet them. Now it is quite possible that you have met some of them before, at one time or another, because they come from all walks of life, all marches of time. They are those members of humanity at perhaps whom you have always wished to stare or examine or scrutinize in an attempt to experience what it's like to live their lives. Ladies and gentlemen, now you have that chance, so may I suggest, `Here We Stand.'"

Roberts motioned to Fulton and Edwards, who then unveiled the statues. The crowd gasped in amazement and moved closer for a better view.

Drusilla, too, was surprised at how life-like the statues appeared. "Diana should have come," she thought; "This is incredible. He's a genius...the man's a genius." She moved slowly through the hall, examining each statue closely for several minutes before moving onto the next. She had just turned his attention to the astounding statue Shelley had become a few hours before when someone tapped her arm. She turned to find Roberts himself standing beside her.

"Enjoying yourself, Miss...?"

"Prince...Drusilla Prince. Yes, Mr. Roberts. It's an honor to meet you. Your work is fascinating. This cheerleader...the details...the hair, the fingernails, the wrinkles.... How do you do it?" she asked.

"I'm afraid I have got to keep that a secret, but I do thank you for coming." Roberts looked closely at the young man for a moment and smiled. "I know I'll see you here again." He shook Drusilla's hand and made his way to Fulton, who stood near the entrance, watching the crowd.

"It seems everything is going our way," Roberts whispered. "The young woman standing in front of our cheerleader statue is Drusilla Prince, Sister of Diana Prince of the IADC... the woman we hoped to use to lure Wonder Woman and Wonder Girl into our collection. Miss Prince herself, however, will do just as well for the time being. She'll be our next subject. You and Jack know what to do. I'll meet you back at the workshop in an hour." Fulton nodded, and Roberts rejoined his guests. Fulton kept an eye on Drusilla as she wandered from statue to statue. When Drusilla finally headed from the gallery, Fulton and Edwards followed.

Drusilla had parked in the garage beneath the Winfrey Foundation Building, whose lower floors housed the Capital City Museum. She thought the bottom levels were deserted as she approached her car, but as she unlocked the door, Edwards quickly grabbed her from behind, gagging her with one hand and holding her fast with his other arm. As Prince struggled, Fulton quickly raised Prince's belt and and grinned and nodded to himself when he saw Drusilla's choice of underwear. From his pocket he pulled out an NIM unit and a small control box. Fulton reached into Drusilla's pantyhose and positioned and secured the pre-lubricated unit inside the young woman's vagina. Drusilla's pantyhose held the unit tightly in place, and Fulton pressed a button on the box. Drusilla felt a tingling from the cold metal.

"It's no use struggling, Miss. Prince," Fulton said with a smile. "We'll take good care of you. In fact, we're going to let you experience first-hand how Mr. Roberts makes his statues, and you'll be back here at the museum in just a few days, lovely lady, as part of the exhibit instead of merely studying it." In seconds Drusilla's struggling subsided as the computer signals streamed through her body, stiffening her, slowing her bodily functions and suppressing her brain waves, until they effectively turned her 'off' completely, leaving her motionless. One moment, Roberts' men were struggling with a live, human female; the next they were merely holding up a rigid inanimate object shaped exactly like and resembling the young human female. Edwards slipped the car keys from Drusilla's frozen grip and unlocked the trunk of her car. Together, he and Fulton lifted Drusilla into it and then drove back to Roberts' workshop.

By the time Roberts returned to his workshop, Fulton and Edwards had laid Drusilla out on the work table on which all of Roberts' many other subjects had lain as each was crafted into a Roberts' statue. Within an hour, she, too, would become a completed, perfect statue, a fine work of art. Drusilla lay naked and stiff, immobilized by the NIM unit placed inside her crotch. Drusilla's body was frozen in a position of struggle, an expression of surprise fixed on her face. Her clothes had been thrown onto a chair -- a navy blue dress and suntan pantyhose, strappy heels, smart silk scarf, and a black silk bra.  She gazed blankly at the ceiling, unaware of her perilous transformation into an uncanny work of art.


PART 2: Several Days Later

"Okay, what's this all about?" asked Wonder Woman levelly as she looked about Roberts' workshop at the statues that had just come to life around her.

Moreau sat in the back room and watched Wonder Woman's surprise over the video monitor. "It's about your demise, Wonder Woman, your carefully planned, eagerly anticipated demise," replied Moreau coolly, his voice carrying over an intercom.

The workshop door slid open, and Henry Roberts stepped into the room. "Welcome to my museum," he greeted with a smile. "So, you lured me here purposely. It was all a plan...the thefts, the riddles...," Wonder Woman said as the men circled her.

"All were part of an intricate choreography. You see, we knew that if we involved the IADC, you would ultimately be involved," Moreau answered.

"Diana Prince warned me that there was more to this than met the eye."

"Which is why, upon her inability to solve our riddles and crimes, they sent for you. How boringly predictable," Moreau said haughtily.

"Speaking of boring, why am I here?" demanded the daring Amazon.

Roberts stepped forward and smiled. "You are about to become my latest work of art."

"Several people know that my friend here plans to open his Capital City exhibit tonight by unveiling statues of Wonder Woman and Wonder Girl," Moreau explained. "I shall be there for the unveiling, as will you, Wonder Woman, delicately and permanently frozen by a minute stream of electrons controlled by a neural impulse modulator, developed by that brilliant neurophysiologist, Robert Henderson."

"Presently known to the world as Henry Roberts," said the sculptor as he slipped a new NIM unit for Wonder Woman from his pocket. "This, once inserted into your vagina and held in place by your pantyhose and costume, will produce an electrical signal which will place you in a state of suspended animation and transform you into a perfect statue...forever."

Wonder Woman winced as she saw the device Robert's had in his hands. It was four inches in length and cylindrical. It had the smooth glint of chrome and had flat smooth surface on the end of it.

The three men who had been reanimated swiftly took hold of Wonder Woman. Roberts smiled as he approached the Amazon with the NIM unit in his hand. Suddenly, Wonder Woman whirled about, knocking the men off balance, and quickly grabbed the unit from Roberts' hand. "After I neutralize this," Wonder Woman said to the voice over the speaker, "you're going to tell me who you are and where you are."

Moreau could simply have turned ther dial to 'de-anima' and added Wonder Woman to their collection of human statues at that moment. But he was patient. A few moments more and they would have her, in a more appropriate pose. In his mind, timing was everything; with an ironic sense of humor, he sprang his trap.

"Wait, Wonder Woman. Perhaps you'd like to see our most recent acquisition first. Henry...." Roberts smiled and gestured toward a draped object in the corner. Two of the men carried the figure to the center of the room. With one motion, Roberts lifted the cloth. Drusilla Prince stood motionless, dressed in a form-fitting Wonder Girl costume.

"Wonder Girl?"

"No, Wonder Woman, just an amazing simulation," said Moreau. "You see, here we have Drusilla Prince, the younger sister of Diana Prince. She attended last week's preview of Henry's exhibition and graciously consented to fill in for Wonder Girl until we're able to secure and transform Wonder Girl herself into a Roberts statue. Had Wonder Girl accompanied you here this evening, you and Wonder Girl could have undergone the statue-ization process together, and we could have restored young Miss Prince back to her living, breathing, functioning, mobile self. As you can see, however, Miss Prince is doing a rather fine job standing in for Wonder Girl; she makes an excellent statue of the Girl Wonder, don't you think? But she's unable to answer you at the moment. In fact, Miss Prince is unable to do much of anything at all."

Wonder Woman looked incredulously at her stiffened, mannequinized sibling. Now she understood what had happened and why Wonder Girl had been missing for the last several days. These fiends had no idea who their captive really was. "Let her go," ordered Wonder Woman, showing her irritation for the first time.

"Only after the NIM unit has been secured in your vagina."

"Right now," Wonder Woman demanded.

"Right now, I can push a button that will make Miss Prince's statue-ization permanent. She then might as well spend the rest of eternity as a mannequin, standing in a Lingerie shop window modeling teddies and stockings. Would you like that, Wonder Woman?"

Thousands of thoughts and the image of Wonder Girl forever posed stiffly in a store display window whirled through her brain as she stared at the statue, but she couldn't think logically. Finally, Wonder Woman offered the NIM unit back to Roberts. "You win."

"I won the day I planned this," gloated Moreau. "The rest was simply a matter of time." Roberts grinned as he took the NIM unit back from the Amazon's hand.

Wonder Woman unfastened and loosened her belt and lasso and laid it across her shoulders. Then, with both hands, she slowly pulled down her stretchy red white and blue costume and pantyhose then waited. Roberts gently positioned the NIM unit inside the amazon's pussy. Inserting the unit up to its base; Roberts had made a fine estimate. A shiver ran through Wonder Woman's body as the cold metal was pressed inside her. The NIM unit in place, Roberts nodded, and  she pulled up her pantyhose, costume and re-fastened her belt. The unit was held snugly and securely in place. Wonder Woman looked down. She was used to seeing the distinct outline of the impression of her pubic mound pressing through her briefs, but now the bulging impression of her crotch was quite smooth. Already she felt artificial.

The moment the NIM unit came into contact with Wonder Woman's pussy, a three-dimensional image of her appeared on the computer monitor, and computer sparked into action, calculating the electrical signals that would turn her off, transforming her into a Henry Roberts statue. As with all the other women, it took the computer mere seconds to record all of Wonder Woman's physical data and to devise the precise statue- ization frequencies. Almost immediately, the green light blinked on the computer console. Moreau was just about to press the "0 Animation" button when Wonder Woman spoke.

"May I take a closer look at Drusilla Prince? I'd like to see what I'll be like... what I'm going to become forever."

Moreau grinned and seemed pleased. "Of course, Wonder Woman, I don't see why not."

Wonder Woman stepped up to Wonder Girl and examined the statue closely. She looked at Wonder Girl's young, womanly face and saw the glassy eyes staring off at nothing. She gently ran her hand over Wonder Girl's arm; it was locked into position. Then she gently touched the face; it felt cold and firm, as if he were touching a plastic mannequin. Finally, he looked down at the girl Wonder's briefs and saw the smooth mound which her own crotch now resembled. She reached down and placed her palm over her sister's pussy. Through the cloth of Wonder Girl's briefs, Wonder Woman could feel the cold hard metal of the NIM unit that had transformed Wonder Girl into a mere statue. Then she placed her hand over her own crotch and realized that in just a few minutes she would be like Wonder Girl, no longer a living woman, but a motionless sculpture. As she stood there for a moment, she felt a mix of emotions: helplessness, sadness, anxiety, fear, and oddly, fascination and exhilaration. At last, Wonder Woman turned to Roberts.

"I'm ready for my statue-ization. How would you like me to stand?"

Although they had already pre-programmed the coordinates for their Wonder Woman pose into the computer, Moreau relished the control that he and Roberts now had over the Amazon. "Let's see, now, hands on your hips, I think." Wonder Woman did as she was told and raised her hands to her hips. "Yes, that's it. Well, now, smile. Smile the smile you would like to wear through eternity, because wear it through eternity you shall." There was something sinister in Moreau's voice, but Wonder Woman was strangely comforted, too. Already she perceived Roberts and Moreau as her masters and owners. Slowly, Wonder Woman's lips spread into a smile. "In a moment, your own transformation will be complete. You may even enjoy it. You will become a perfect and magnificent statue, Wonder Woman, preserved forever as a splendid work of art, my masterpiece. Then you won't have to worry anymore about fighting crime and dastardly villains," Roberts said in a coaxing and soothing voice as Moreau activated the computer. There was a warbling sound from the controls as the NIM unit responded.

From within her pussy, Wonder Woman felt a warm tingling gently grow and quickly spread outward to the rest of her body. "They don't know Drusilla is really Wonder Girl," thought Wonder Woman. "Once I've been turned off, once I'm one of their statues, they'll reanimate her, and she'll... what a fool!" Wonder Woman suddenly realized her mistake. "Once I'm a statue, they'll have no reason to return Drusilla to normal." The sight of her sister statue-ized had caught her off-guard and had kept her from thinking logically and rationally, just as Roberts and Moreau had hoped.

Wonder Woman immediately tried to fight the electrical impulses of the NIM unit, struggling to reach her magic lasso that she thought might be able to neutralize its signals. But it was too late. Roberts and Moreau saw Wonder Woman's brief struggle, but they were unconcerned. After only a few seconds, the computer was already well into finishing its task. Within her body, several of Wonder Woman's physiological functions and systems were already shutting down and going into stasis as the computer continued to transform the amazon into a statue. Wonder Woman could just barely raise her right arm a few inches before she felt her entire body lock into position. As hard as she tried, she could no longer move, her finger just touching the lasso. She tried desperately to concentrate, but the computer began to transmit its usual message into her brain, effectively scrambling her own thoughts -- "a Henry Roberts statue...I am a Henry Roberts statue...I am a Henry Roberts statue ."

Once the message flowed freely through her brain, Wonder Woman began to relax, quite willingly and eagerly abandoning her struggle, and in the few seconds before the conclusion of stasis, she did find her transformation pleasurable and felt as if she were about to orgasm. Suddenly, she felt her body shift more precisely into its programmed position: her right hand was returned to her hip, her legs spread apart slightly, and the false smile she wore shaped itself into a more confident and convincing grin. Once the computer had properly posed her, it fed the final signals through her body, stiffening and statue-izing her, and the blue light burned on the console. The computer had added another perfect display figure to Roberts' amazing collection. Wonder Woman ceased to exist except in the form of this likeness.

"Henry," said Moreau triumphantly, "say 'good-bye' to one of the few people who could have stood between us and everything in the world worth stealing." Roberts paused for a moment, staring proudly at his latest creation. The immobilization process had gone perfectly, as it always had, and now Wonder Woman, too, was a stiffened, perfectly preserved, Henry Roberts 'statue'. Nearby, Wonder Girl stood posed, equally unmoving; the likeness between she an Diana all the more distinct when both had become as still as mannequins.

As he did with every woman he chose to undergo this special transformation, Roberts pressed his hand upon Wonder Woman's large breast. Nothing; no reaction whatsoever. It was like he was feeling up a piece of plastic. Then he ran his hand over Wonder Woman's pussy and smiled as he felt the NIM unit cupping it tightly and holding Wonder Woman forever captive in its paralyzing grip.



"Henry," began Moreau over the videophone several hours later, "indulge me and let us review the security footage, shall we?" Roberts smiled and nodded. Looking at the viewer on the wall of the workshop, he clearly they saw Diana Prince transform into Wonder Woman on top of the bulding across the street, then make her way towards Roberts' studio. He and Moreau were amazed.

"So... Diana Prince is actually Wonder Woman, which means that Drusilla Prince - her sister - must be Wonder Girl. It seems, Henry, that we have serendipitously collected the complete set after all. The Amazing Amazons are Diana Prince and Drusilla Prince! Well, this saves us the trouble of ensnaring the Girl Wonder or finding another use in our collection for Miss Prince. It was so simple; the successful result of a perfect plan," said Moreau smugly. "Have your assistants take our new Wonder Woman and Wonder Girl statues over to the museum, and I'll see you at the gallery shortly."

Fulton and Edwards brought in two large wooden crates, which looked to have the the proportions of coffins, and set them near the superheroine figures. First, they carefully tipped Wonder Girl back and gently laid her onto a cushion of crushed straw in the crate. After packing in more straw, they replaced the lid and latched it down. Then they did the same with Wonder Woman in the other crate. Their platforms went into a third, smaller, container before the lot was loaded into the truck. This pair of Amazing Amazons deserved special handling, for they were now the most rare and valuable statues in Roberts' and Moreau's growing collection of living artworks.


Part 3: The Gallery Exhibition

"Ladies and gentlemen. I am so deeply honored that so many of you have chosen to attend this formal opening of my new show. So, to honor you, my latest and hopefully my best creations. Gentlemen," he motioned to Fulton and Edwards, "if you please." The two stepped over to the far end of the gallery and drew aside a screen to reveal the new Wonder Woman and Wonder Girl statues.

The crowd gasped. "Oh my, they look so real!"

After a few minutes, Moreau stepped before the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, as some of you know, I have supported Henry's work for several years now, helped him monetarily and spiritually as he struggled to perfect his 'technique'. But whatever debt he may have incurred is now forgotten, for I, through him, have created a pair of masterpieces. His statues capture the very hearts and souls of the great ladies they depict, as the Wonder Woman and the Girl Wonder themselves would have to admit." The museum patrons, including Agent Steve Trevor and Etta Candy, applauded. As Moreau spoke, he had thought to himself and had actually wanted to say, "Henry's statues truly and quite literally capture the very hearts, souls, and bodies of the Amazing Amazons, as Wonder Woman and Wonder Girl themselves would have to admit, if only we hadn't transformed them into motionless statues and they could move and talk." The museum crowds pressed in for a closer view of the two statues.

"I had hoped that Wonder Woman and Wonder Girl would be here for this honor," said Trevor to Roberts over champagne.

"Steve, the Amazing Amazons are too modest for such affairs. They are excellent likenesses though, aren't they? If I didn't know better, I might have mistaken these statues for the Amazing Amazons themselves. I'm a bit surprised that Diana isn't here. She told me that young Drusilla was very excited about seeing the Roberts statues and had tried to talk her into attending the show's preview last week. Well, she's a busy woman, too."

Many had expected the Amazing Amazons to attend the unveiling of their statue counterparts. Little did they suspect that Wonder Woman and Wonder Girl were, indeed, in attendance, that it was the Dynamite Duo themselves at whom they stared as they marveled at what they thought were merely statues of the superheroes; that what they were actually looking at were Wonder Woman and Wonder Girl perfectly controlled and preserved by small, but powerful, metal cylinders placed in their vaginas, holding them in statuary suspension; that it was real flesh standing stock-still behind the red velvet museum cord. In fact, in the case of Wonder Woman, if they had been allowed to touch her, they would have felt a body still warm and supple, for Wonder Woman had been transformed only an hour before, just in the nick of time for the official opening of the exhibit; her body was still in the process of steadily, yet quickly and thoroughly, cooling and firming.

For the opening, the cord had been raised to keep the crowds from touching the Amazing Amazons, but it would be removed in the morning, when Wonder Woman's body would be nicely and properly cool and rigid that no one touching her would believe that she was, indeed, once a real woman. In fact, in a mere two hours, by the end of the gala evening, the statue that Wonder Woman now was would be sufficiently hardened and cooled.

Wonder Girl, on the other hand, had been a statue for several days now. Anyone touching her would have no doubts that what they were touching was a statue, Wonder Girl's body now quite cold and firm as any plastic store mannequin. But it seemed only appropriate that she should stand beside her stiffening mentor behind the cord. The people were not prohibited from touching the other statues in the exhibit, for all of those figures -- Shelley, Kent, Phillips, Malena, the Edwards, McArthur, Forester, Matthews, and so forth -- were fully in stasis, just as Wonder Girl was, posed like store mannequins; hardened, firm, and cold. No longer women, but flawless works of art, perfectly crafted Henry Roberts statues, fashioned from living human women.

Roberts and Moreau wandered slowly through the deserted gallery. The show "Here We Stand" had had a successful run, and now, after three months -- one month longer than originally scheduled -- the statues were to be packed up in the morning and shipped to Star City's famed Putney Museum for six weeks. In Star City, they would add Power Girl and Zatanna to their collection of superhero statues. And after Star City, the exhibit would move on to Metropolis, where Supergirl waited for her transformation into one of the remarkable statues as well. It had become a tradition for Roberts and Moreau to take a last tour of the figures in situ before the exhibit moved on to its next site. They started near the gallery entrance and stood in front of a deactivated Stephanie Phillips. Moreau pressed the automation button and set Phillips into stiff motion. "She was quite wooden and stiff before, even without 'encouragement' from the NIM. I think she was born to be one of my statues," said Roberts with a laugh.

They then moved on and stood before the Jill Kent statue. "Henry, you do know how to pick the right women." Moreau carefully removed the bangs that hid the Showgirl's eyes and looked closely at her face. "Excellent...Mrs. Kent is a fine statue." He reached up and ran his palm down the side of the statue's hardened beautiful face and replaced the bangs.

Next, they moved on to the two statuesque Edwards women, Tara and Julie. "They do make a nice display pair, don't they?" asked Roberts. It was Jack Edwards who was responsible for the statue-ization of his own mother and sister. Tara Edwards made quite a handsome mature flight attendant, and Julie was now a statue of a beautiful Circus Acrobat. Then Roberts and Moreau turned to Lee Matthews, who stood motionless before a top hat resting upside-down on a table... turned into a statue of a Magician's Assistant. Next to her, Katie McArthur had been immortalized as a Laker Girl, her NIM unit held in place by her pantyhose.

Eventually, Roberts and Moreau stood admiring the exquisite statue that was Shelley.

"Henry, we've received an offer on our Cheerleader. The Cowboys Hall of Fame in Dallas has made a bid of $250,000. They seemed very intent on acquiring her," Moreau continued with a grin, "so I asked for twice as much. They agreed immediately."

Roberts seemed pleased. "I'll take care of it. While the rest of the statues are being shipped to Washington, Fulton and I will make Ms. Clark's suspension long term." Roberts looked up at Shelley's beautiful face. "I'm going to miss her in our gallery."

Finally, they stood before Wonder Woman and Wonder Girl and smiled. "Well, Henry," said Moreau, "here they are... Wonder Woman and Wonder Girl, the Dynamite Duo, the Amazing Amazons, and now, for all time, Henry Roberts statues. You are a genius, Henry."

With the grins fixed on their faces, the Wonder Woman and Wonder Girl figures seemed pleased that this had been done to them, that Roberts and Moreau had chosen them to be turned into statues. They had stood absolutely motionless in the Capital City art museum for the last three months, unchanging perfect mannequins, unaware that they had become the main attraction of the season and quite oblivious of the crowds of people who came to see them and even touched them. They were equally oblivious to the wave of crimes committed in the city since they had been put in stasis. Roberts and Moreau had received several offers for the statuary pair, but all bids were refused... Wonder Woman and Wonder Girl sculptures would always remain under their control as part of their private collection.

Moreau and Roberts congratulated themselves as they walked back to the gallery entrance. Then Moreau pressed the other button on Phillips's control box. The Phillips animated mannequin finished one last tip of her head and polite bow before straightening up and then remaining completely still, like the other female statues in the display.



Fulton and Edwards set the mannequin-still figure of Shelley Clark down on the workshop floor, near her pedestal as Roberts sat at the computer, programming the electronic signals that would effectively place Shelley under their control and prepare her body for long term statue-ization. Fulton pushed the yellow button on the console, and the computer transmitted the reactivation and animation signals into Shelley's rigid body via the NIM unit. Slowly, the flat lines displayed on the computer screen began to register activity as the electronic signals gradually set Shelley's metabolic and physiological functions back into motion. In just a few seconds, the lines indicated normal activity for all of Shelley's systems.

Roberts looked at Shelley and smiled.

With the grin still fixed on her face, Shelley drew in a few deep breaths through her nostrils and exhaled. After a few seconds, she slowly blinked three or four times as if waking from a deep sleep. Then her face relaxed its programmed expression, and Shelley stiffly lowered her arms. She squinted and looked about the room, looked down at the cheerleader uniform, and then up at Roberts, frowning. Just as Shelley looked as if she might speak, Roberts, for his own fun, pressed the "0-Animation" button once more.

Shelley suddenly gasped and stopped moving. Smoothly her body posed itself once more, her arms and legs shifting back into their pre-selected display positions, and her face took on its smile and warm expression, and Shelley again looked exactly as she had for the last three months while on display as a statue in the museum.

Again, Roberts pushed the yellow computer button, and Shelley took in a few breaths and slowly emerged from suspension. And again, Roberts re- mannequinized her, as if Shelley were a mechanical toy for his pleasure. The NIM-controlled body once more shifted its legs and placed a hand upon the hip on the right, while the other hand was raised toward the ceiling with a pom-pom in it. Again, Shelley cocked her head, and her lips turned up into a wistful grin that froze into position. She was once more an instant statue. Finally, Roberts pressed the animation button one last time. Shelley blinked, took in a few breaths, and her body relaxed its pose. Looking around the room, she saw Roberts, then looked down at her clothes.

"Wh...what happened? What did you do to me?" she asked softly.

"We suspended your animation, Ms. Clark, electronically and most effectively turning you off and transforming you into a statue."

"The last thing I remember is signing some papers and suddenly finding it harder and harder to move. What am I doing in this costume?"

"For the last three months, you have been on display in the Capital City museum as one of my statues, as a Henry Roberts statue, along with the statue of the Showgirl and the statue of the Hooters Girl and several other women whom I have turned into artworks over the years. You see, all of my statues are actually flesh and blood individuals like you, living women who underwent the same statue-ization procedure that you did when you dropped the papers off at my workshop. In fact, your friend, Jill Kent, was herself transformed into the Showgirl statue."

Shelley moved her body stiffly, taking small steps and turning her neck. Suddenly, she moved her hand down to her crotch and pressed on the NIM module.

"What you feel is a Neural Impulse Modulator that has been placed in your vagina. It is that unit by which the computer sends the statue-izing signals through your body."

Upon hearing this, Shelley quickly reached for her belt and loosened it. She had just untied her shorts and unzipped them when Roberts pressed a button on the computer. Shelley had gripped the waistband of her pantyhose and was beginning to pull them downward when she suddenly found that, although she was still able to think, see, hear, and breathe, she could not move a millimeter. Her shorts fell down to her ankles, but the NIM was still snugly in place in her pantyhose and over her crotch, still in contact with her vagina. Shelley looked like a sultry statue of a modern-day Cowboys Cheerleader getting dressed or getting undressed.

"Uh uh uh, Ms. Clark," chided Roberts, "we'll have none of that." Fulton stepped up to the immobile woman and loosened Shelley's grip on her pantyhose so that its band snapped back against her waist. He pressed against the NIM unit to make sure it was secure, then pulled up Shelley's shorts and fastened her belt. Roberts then pressed another computer button, and Shelley could move again.

"You won't get away with this," she said contritely.

"I have gotten away with it for the last eight years, turning women into statues; into works of art," Roberts said smugly. "For the last three months, the police have been investigating your disappearance, and yet no one suspects a thing. In fact, your friend, Agent Trevor, attended my exhibition opening and pointed you out as his favorite statue from the show. Even the agent himself didn't recognize you."

"But I'm also a friend of Wonder Woman," Shelley began. "She'll...."

Roberts laughed. "Neither Wonder Woman nor Wonder Girl are in any position to help you." Roberts looked at his watch. "As a matter of fact, the Dynamite Duo should be arriving in Star City within the hour."

"Star City.? Why are they going there?"

"They're going to be part of the main attraction when my exhibition opens there at the Putnam Museum later this month."

"You mean... no... it can't be..." Shelley said incredulously, her voice almost a whisper.

"Yes, Wonder Woman and Wonder Girl have also been transformed into a pair of my statues. You see, the position they're in is quite permanent. They were a tremendous hit when they went on display at the Gotham Art Museum. For the last three months, you have been standing just a few feet away from them. Of course you had no way of knowing that."

"Why are you doing this?" said Shelley, her voice soft with resignation.

You should be quite proud, Ms. Clark, of your performance. An official from the Cowboys Hall of Fame Museum in Dallas came to the show and was very impressed with you. He said that as a statue, you seemed to embody the spirit of the cheerladers. As an agent of the Cowboys Hall, he made a bid of $250,000 to acquire you for the museum's permanent collection." Shelley seemed impressed, almost pleased. "We turned down their offer, but they returned with a bid of $500,000, which we accepted. Shortly, my men will take care of crating you up, and you will be shipped to Dallas this afternoon. You should arrive at the Cowboys Hall of Fame sometime tomorrow, and you'll go on permanent display in the museum's main gallery a day or two after that. I'll see to your proper installation myself."

Shelley stood silently for a moment, contemplating the prospect of standing from now on as a statue in a museum, where people would come to see her, look at her as if she were just an object, not knowing that she was once a living, breathing woman. She turned to Roberts. "Why did you reanimate me then? Why didn't you just pack me up and ship me out?"

"Scattered here and there in various museums, galleries, and even a few private homes are some of our 'assistants,' who periodically procure art pieces for me and my associate. The Cowboys Hall of Fame has several works of art which we are interested in acquiring. With you installed in the museum, we will be able to take possession of them."

What... you expect me to steal for you?!"

"Yes, and you will. You see, the NIM unit is not only able to control your body, but it can control your mind as well. In just a moment, the computer will reprogram your brain waves and mental patterns, and you, too, will become one of our assistants. However, before the computer is able to effectively alter your thought processes, it was necessary for it to analyze how your mind works normally, which is what it has been doing during our little chat.

"Now, Ms. Clark, if you are ready for your modifications, we'll begin. First, concentrate... what are you?"

Shelley was puzzled for a moment with the question. Then, from the back of her mind the phrase surfaced. Hesitantly and against her will, she softly whispered the phrase. "I am a Henry Roberts statue." Roberts smiled. Then, without further prompting from Roberts or the computer, Shelley, as if she had suddenly had a revelation and had come to a special realization, repeated the statement, more affirmatively and proudly. "I am a Henry Roberts statue...I am a Henry Roberts statue...." The constant signal from the NIM unit during her suspension had indelibly written the statement and her statue program into her mind.

As she continued to utter the phrase and it looped through her mind, she mechanically repositioned her body and limbs into the pose she had held as a statue for the last three months — shifting her legs slightly, raising her left hand to the ceiling, her right hand gripping the the belt, cocking her head and grinning wistfully. When she had made the final adjustments to her stance and position, Shelley stopped moving and stood silently. Although the NIM unit in her pantyhose was not activated, Shelley stood perfectly still and silent. Anyone looking on at this moment would have taken her for the rigid statue that she had been in the museum.

Roberts approached Shelley and nodded. He put his hand on Shelley's chest and felt it rising and falling ever so slightly as the immobile woman breathed slowly. There was the calm beat of the heart pumping. But there was no reaction from Shelley; she remained motionless, and her gaze was a thousand miles away. "Very good, Shelley...very good," Roberts said proudly. Roberts returned to the computer and pressed another button on the console. The computer, having noted and analyzed the workings of Shelley's mind, now sent a series of special signals through the NIM unit and up into her brain, swiftly altering the way she thought and effectively placing her under Roberts and Moreau's complete control, making her one of Roberts' 'assistants' like so many of his other statued women.


PART 4:  Still More Statues

The Henry Roberts statues were a tremendous success, and now, after a six week run at the Putnam Museum and an unprecedented six month installation at the Metropolis Art Museum, the figures were being packed up for storage until the next Roberts exhibitions, perhaps in two or three years. During that time, a whole new set of unsuspecting women would be prepared and transformed into statues. In Metropolis there would have been record crowds to see just the Kent, Edwards, McArthur, Forester statues and so forth, but so many others had come to see Roberts' masterpieces... Batgirl, Wonder Woman, Wonder Girl and Supergirl. Black Canary and the Huntress... even the critics had hailed them as such.

As well, Roberts and Moreau had added to their holdings considerably over the last year and a half. Not only had they acquired and secured such dazzling women as Jill Kent, Shelley Clark, Julie Edwards, and Katie McArthur and transformed them into some of the finest statues in their collection, but they had also succeeded in turning Batgirl and Wonder Girl, Supergirl, and Wonder Woman into Henry Roberts statues as well. In addition, they had added a few more figures to their collection. In Star City, while in the process of securing Power Girl, they had successfully turned government agent Dana Scully into a fine and beautiful statue of an exotic dancer and Barbara Farnum, Senator Farnum's daughter, into the harem-costumed likeness of the country's favorite television 'Jeannie' complete with a prop of her distinctively-shaped bottle displayed on the platform with her. Roberts had been especially bold with her, concealing the NIM inside the large navel jewel she now wore in her bare midriff. In Metropolis, Daily Planet reporters Lana Lang and Lois Lane were acquired and presented in the collection as the stripper duo 'Blondage'.

Not long afterward, they had accepted on offer of $350,000 from "The Magic Shop," a prestigious nightclub featuring illusionists and other performers of mysterious feats, for Lee Matthews, their statue of a Magician's Assistant. When it came time for Matthews' statue-ization program to be renewed, she was instead removed from the program run, and her statue-ization became permanent, since the Magic Shop had no valuables worth stealing. Before Matthews was delivered to the club, she was returned one last time to Roberts' workshop, where her crotch was fitted with a permanent casing, to conceal her very life-like pussy and her stiffened body treated and sealed with a special protective coating.

This sale was in addition to the purchase of the statue that Shelley had become by the Cowboys Hall of Fame, where Shelley had already stolen several pieces for Roberts and Moreau. Every few weeks, Shelley would be re-animated and step down from her platform to swiftly and efficiently secure the desired art objects before taking up her pose and stiffening again into a perfect Henry Roberts statue.


PART 5:  The Best Laid Plans. . .


For want of a Nail, the Shoe was lost;

For want of a Shoe, the Horse was lost;

            For want of a Horse, the Rider was lost;

                        For want of a Rider, the Battle was lost;

                                    For want of a Battle, the War was lost;

                                                For want of a War, the Kingdom was lost;

                                                            For want of a Kingdom, Everything was lost. . .


                                                                        - Hyperborean Fable -


The still figure of Drusilla Prince stands motionless on her individual pesdestal in the Roberts' Gallery, eternally posed in the middle of a forward lunge, arms raised as if to judo-chop an unseen adversary.  She is now dressed in a form-fitting Wonder Girl costume that draws attention to her outstanding physique.

All is quiet; the main overhead lights are down; silvery moonbeams streaming in from the skylights are the only illumination on Drusilla and the others, casting stark shadows that only serve to emphasize the pleasing shapes of the unmoving life-like statues that fill the gallery this evening.

There have been several additions to the collection after Drusilla arrived, but she has no way of knowing that now.  Many she would recognize: Wonder Woman - Diana Prince, rigidly posed on the pedestal next to hers; Steve Trevor, costumed as a marshall, standing several feet away facing them.  Many other unidentified statues, mostly female and very beautiful, stand stiffly around the floor, holding various sexy poses.  Some are displayed in the style of superheroes, presented in leather or spandex costumes, others held at a standstill seemingly in the middle of an instant of everyday life. Every one of the figures is superbly crafted, incredibly detailed, as if they had been taken from life. 

Which, in fact, they had.

All were victims or accomplices of the renegade neurophysiologist who, in the guise of hyper-realist artist Henry Roberts, had placed these people under the petrifying restraint of his sinister invention.  The Neural-Impulse-Modulator, NIM, unit created a delicately tuned stream of electrons that had induced a rigid form of suspended animation, or stasis in each of them; immobilizing their bodies in position while shutting down most of their physical and mental functions; in effect, turning them 'off' as they became living statues, held in timeless limbo for as long as the NIM unit was activated.

Drusilla had been captured by Roberts' henchmen after the gallery's preview in an underground parking lot and overwhelmed by an NIM; soon afterward she lost all conciousness and movement.  She knows nothing of what has happened since:  Transportation to this workshop; having her clothes changed and her face made up; being placed in this pose on this pedestal; her role as a petrified hostage in the entrapment and statue-ization of Wonder Woman; her public concealment in plain sight as an object of art, part of Roberts' popular museum exhibition christened "Here We Stand". 

Her last memory is of a struggle for her life, then an odd sense of stiffness as if she were turning to stone, then an abyss of nothing.  We see her face is composed, still, gorgeously made up, staring into the shadowy cool darkness.   Everything is as it has been for day upon day; night upon night. 

All at once:

            She blinks, once, as if remembering how?

            Gasps, drawing her first breath in weeks?

            Steps unsteadily forward, in a continuation of her stilled attempt to escape, the momentum carrying her off the low platform and onto the gallery floor. With excellent cat-like reflexes she avoids tripping herself or knocking over any of the statues.

            "Noo- OH!"  She exclaims, realizing mid-blurt that her surroundings have changed dramatically in what seems to her to be the blink of an eye.  "What the devil??"

Drusilla is confused.  One minute she was fighting for her life, now she's HERE.  She looks down, notices she is wearing a Wonder Girl costume that's not her own.  For some reason she now has long satin gloves on; not a normal part of her outfit; also, her feet seem heavy for some reason.  Looking around she sees the other still figures, then her own vacant pedestal a few steps away. 

Understanding comes quickly for the astute young superheroine.

"Those fiends somehow turned me into one of their statues, but how?" she asks herself, sotto-voce as she walks back toward her pedestal, taking in the sheer vastness of the plan.  The she spies the solid figure of Wonder Woman, her sister Diana Prince, standing there frozen for the first time.  She rushes up to her motioness sibling's statue. "Oh, Di-do; what have they done to you?"

There is no answer; Wonder Woman remains stiffly posed, glacial-ice-blue eyes blankly staring vaguely upwards, arms akimbo in a classic superhero stance, a wide smile sculpted on her face.  Her raven hair has been carefully brushed and sprayed into place to look forever tousled and windblown. At first, Wonder Girl hesitates, waving her hand in front of the sightless eyes, then touches her older sister's cheek, feeling how cool and firm Diana's skin is; truly like a sculpture or waxwork.  Seemingly just as timeless. 

"You totally got yourself into a pickle this time, Di," Dru says to the statue; there is no reaction.  "Why am I even talking?  You can't hear a word I say?"  She reaches up with one gloved hand and tickles her immobilized big sister's nose playfully, saying  "Kootchie, kootchie, koo!"  Nothing; not even a blink.  Getting bolder, she mischievously presses her finger upon one of  Wonder Woman's impressive breasts, feeling how solid the fleshy mounds have become.  How helpless her sister has become, so like a flawless facsimile standing there, no longer a living person at all.

As it dawns on Wonder Girl that up until a few minutes ago she herself had been just as vulnerable and inert, Drusilla feels a chill pass down her spine.  Knowing she has also been displayed like some mannequin in the gallery for who knew how long, while Roberts and who knows how many henchmen — that cad Fulton among them — moved her around and touched her, changing her clothing, stance, expression, and maybe doing other things that she was powerless to stop? 

That brings the young Wonder Girl to wonder about exactly how long she has been out of things, diabolically transformed into a work of art.   A tickle in her nose and a suppressed sneeze give her a hint; there is a thin layer of dust on her nose and arms.  A similar coating on WW's shoulders means they may have been here a while, or that this building has really poor air filtration.  A quick check of the dust on the other nearby figures shows they seem to have been present for a varying amount of time, with the statues of the superheroines she recognizes as Huntress and Black Canary seemingly the most ancient.   There is no clock or calendar in the gallery to show the how much time has passed;  the monitoring TV camera seems to be off, the red light is dark. 

Everything remains Quiet and Still, at least for now.  No one yet knows Drusilla has revived.

She thinks back on her capture, that thing they pushed into her crotch — it's still there, not working for some reason.  Suddenly, suppressed memories and images flood into her mind; the surprise of being surrounded, momentary fear, then the cold grip of the NIM.  She remembers a disconnected dream of what seems to be the most luminous sexual climax she has ever experienced, surrounded by whispered voices she cannot make out.  The dream seems to be incomplete; all she recalls after a starburst of ecstasy is the amazement at waking up here in this gallery.

Sitting on 'her' pedestal (about a 6" rise, white formica top with little clips where her feet should be placed), Dru undoes her wide belt, pulls down her star-strewn satin panties, shiny hose, and looks at the gizmo that had turned her into a statue.  On the front is an LED, which is dark.  Not know why, or how long it might stay that way, she starts to pull the NIM out of her vagina, getting about half of its length extracted before the light suddenly flickers on again. 

"Unnh!" Startled into a gasp, she realizes she's rapidly going back into stasis as her fingers lock in place around the shaft.  Wonder Girl feels the stiffness coming over her, growing numbness in her arms, getting more intense; overpowering.  "I don't want to be seen frozen like this when people walk into the museum!" she thinks, understanding her pose makes it seem as if she has been fondling herself.  With only seconds of mobility left, stiff from the waist down, she rolls onto her back, joggling her shoulder, which moves her rigid hand just enough.  As inexplicably as it came on, the light fades out; her movement slowly returns. 

"Whew!  That was a close one!" she sighs.  Gingerly she gets the rest of the NIM all the way out without activating it again, then Drusilla notices the chromed shaft is kind of 'squashed' into an ovoid and the seams are separated slightly, leaking a sticky fluid she recognizes as her own cum juices mixed with lubricating jelly.

"Guess those erotic dreams I had weren't entirely dreams," she thinks, reminding herself not to give up on her 'feminine exercises' anytime soon.  Blushing a little, she never had considered Kegels as a means of defence before now.

With care, Wonder Girl examines the deactivated NIM; the battery is a little out of place, she finds; easy to fix, the light stays on now.  Fortunately the gloves she is wearing as part of her costume insulate her from the paralyzing effects as long as she does not touch the shaft of it.  Deducing that skin contact is needed for the quickest effect, she puts the gizmo down gingerly and re-fixes her briefs and hose.

Safe from becoming frozen for the time being, she takes some time to look around the gallery space and examine the other statues more closely.  In one corner she finds Fulton posed, dressed as a fisherman, just as stiff as all the others.  Another henchman plays a static security guard, standing vigilant at the entryway.  "Hmm, I guess Roberts really doesn't trust anyone moving around here, or he likes creating these bogus artworks?"

There is quite a gathering of statues, all posed in different "slice of life" attitudes and dress, including a student seated at a desk, a frustrated-looking painter, and a fragile looking ballerina dressed in a leotard, tights, and tutu; posed while balanced on one pointed toe in the middle of a perpetual pirouette that seemed to defy gravity.  Reaching out to touch the frozen dancer, Wonder Girl is startled as the figure twirls around at the slightest nudge yet she remains upright, looking for all the world like a figurine on top of a music box.  Careful not to make a sound, Drusilla brings the spinning living sculpture to a standstill again and continues on her examination of the gallery.

Stepping lightly around, careful not to make the wood floor creak, Dru finally comes upon — "Herself" — or rather a familiar red-haired young lady  posed while talking into a cell phone, who is wearing the same navy blue pantsuit, scarf, and heels that Drusilla had on when abducted, complete with her wire-rimmed zero-correction eyeglasses and her shoulder-bag.  Roberts sure didn't waste any time 'recruiting' volunteers, she reasons,  recognizing the stock-still figure as Yolanda Sanchez, a receptionist from the IADC, who was going to meet Drusilla at the gallery opening.  "Must have showed up a few minutes after me; sorry, Jo, for getting you wrapped up in this?" she says to the impassive statue, then does a double-take on the cell phone the frozen girl is posed with.  Her own cell phone. Wonder Girl hopes there is enough battery left to make an emergency call; she never remembers to keep it charged properly.  With some effort, she pries the phone from Yolanda's stiff fingers, the young lady does not budge, now looking like a mime talking on an invisible phone as she remains in place.

Switching the phone on, she calls the IADC using the stored emergency number.  After what seems like forever, there is a ring, then 'IRA' answers.   She barely has time to state her name before losing the connection.  "Damn?" she says, frustrated enough to curse out loud, then looking around to see if anyone had noticed the outburst.  No sign of alarm after several seconds of listening.  Carefully replacing the now useless phone into the statue's fingers, Dru considers her options and what her sister would do.  That is, what Diana would do if she hadn't been turned into a display piece!

Faintly she hears what sounds like a radio or television, voices that are coming from a different part of the building. The sizable gallery connects, down a long hallway that Wonder Girl steps along very gingerly, to what probably is a studio or a workshop,.   There are additional guards stationed around the corridor but they are all statues, too.  Closer, the voices can be heard more clearly.  By peeking stealthily around the corner, Wonder Girl can glimpse two people in the high-ceilinged space.

Dru recognizes Henry Roberts, bantering on in his imperious way to a tall, shapely, blonde woman, who is wearing a Bunny costume that fits her spectacular figure very well, molding her curves into the wasp-waisted, full-bosomed ideal promoted by the popular mens' club.  Her long slim legs are encased in dark seamless pantyhose and she is wearing 4" heeled pumps in a satin hue that matches her costume and frisky ears.  Affixed in the center of her rounded  backside is a cottony puffball of the signature Bunny tail. Completing the outfit are the white wristlet cuffs and bow-tied collar, along with a name medallion that looks like a prize ribbon at a county fair, labeling her as "Gina". 

In contrast to her gorgeous showgirl appearance and carefully made up face, the woman's voice is street-rough. "Can't barely breathe in this thing, Hank"

"You won't have to worry about that much longer, Cheri," Roberts chuckles knowlingly as Wonder Girl realizes he's about to 'craft' another statue.  He continues,  "Do you know what you'll be looking for once you wake up in the mansion?"

"Sports stuff, I know.   Balls, cards, jerseys.   Put 'em on the skyhook out the window, then get back into position before anyone notices.."

He nods. "You'll have a communicator as well, so if you have any questions about the values, ask."

"What about my cut?  How much ya gonna pay me for being your inside burglar?" she asked.

"You'll get a percentage, like all the others.  Rest assured you will receive your just reward," he said with a cynical smile, knowing full well her 'reward' would be immortality as a permanent statue once her immediate usefulness to his schemes was over.  Of course, Cheri would never learn the truth.

"Super, boss.  Hey, uh, any - whaddya call 'em - side effect to using this thing?"  The woman looks down at her satin-covered crotch, where the slight bulge of an NIM unit can be distinguished.

"Nothing unpleasant, I can assure you.  Are you ready?  Step onto the platform and insert your feet into the clips.  The magnets will hold you fast; your shoes have steel plates in the soles that will maintain your position once I've activated the device."

"Wow!   That's strong.  You want me to pose like we talked?"

"Yes, just so.  One arm above your head, the other close to your waist.  Twist around to face me.  Look up a little, keep your knees together and dip down a trifle.  Now, smile and think of how beautiful you'll always look."  He reaches over and turns the dial on a briefcase-sized control box.  There is an electronic tremelo that Wonder Girl remembers subliminally from before, along with a hint of arousal in her crotch.  "Side effects, indeed!" Dru thinks.

"Oooh!" the Cheri-Bunny exclaims.  "Feels good; strange kinda.  Getting' stiffer — can't mo?"  Her voice fades as her body tenses up, moving fractionally before the young woman becomes fully rigid and visibly seems to harden into statue-like stillness.  Her face's look  remains joyful and beaming.

Roberts watches the transformation progress for the next few moments before stepping up to the now immobilized Bunny.  He looks into her blank unblinking eyes carefully, then puts his hands on her firm breasts and squeezes.  There is no reaction whatsoever, nor any when he slides a hand down her satin-covered torso and over the smooth area at her crotch where the NIM unit has been placed. 

Finally he steps back as announces to the new statue: "Welcome to the Henry Roberts Collection!  Your new owner will be picking you up in the morning, so let's get you into the gallery?"

"Fiddlysticks!" Wonder Girl mutters under her breath, realizing that's where she was earlier; there is only an empty pedestal there now.  Moving as quickly she can across the tiled floor in high heels, she sneaks back without being noticed while Roberts is busy with the Bunny statue.  She has gotten into position back on her pedestal and is holding still, faking being frozen, hoping her pose is close enough to before not to be detected, when he comes into the gallery with the new Bunny statue on a wheeled cart that grips the pedestal.  Watching out of the corner of her eye, Drusilla sees him set the still figure in place along the far wall and give 'it' a parting pat on her rump.

With a beaming smile of joy, Roberts looks around his collection of living artworks; he pauses as the Wonder Woman statue catches his eye and he stares at the frozen pair for several tense moments. Wonder Girl assumes that her deception has been uncovered.   Tensing her muscles, she holds her NIM unit concealed in one gloved hand, as far out of view as she can.  Staying motionless is taking all her concentration. A trickle of perspiration seeps out from her brow; there is nothing she can do about it but hope he doesn't see the telltale sign.

Roberts steps up right beside her, gazing at Diana instead. "My, Wonder Woman — you are looking especially lovely this evening; then again you always will.  An exquisite figure such as yours truly deserves to be displayed, don't you think?"  He fondles her cleavage also, while running his finger alongside her neck.  Diana Prince does not stir a muscle, remaining stiff as the statue she has become.   "No, you can't think, of course," he chuckles, "and what of your young associate?"

Wonder Girl knows her turn is next, so she's ready when Roberts turns to her and moves his hands to cup her more modest breasts.  "Ah, the younger cohort, beautiful as your sister but less physically impressive.  Wouldn't your statue look nicer with a bit more — definition — in the chest?  That can be arranged, of course, and no one would know of the alteration."

"I would!" Drusilla blurts out, startling the ersatz artist with her unexpected mobility.  Aghast, with his hands held up in faint defence, he steps back with his mouth wide open.   Wonder Girl takes her chance.   Shoving the active NIM unit into his gaping maw, she hopes it's still operational.

Henry Roberts has just enough time to marvel at his invention and get a hint of the taste of her salty wetness before the Neural Impulse Modulator adjusts to a new subject and begins the suspension cycle, shutting him down as effectively as it had done to her.  Seconds later, woodenly, he falls to the floor, arms still held in a position of surprise, blank eyes staring at the ceiling lights.

"So how do you like it, smarty-pants?" Drusilla taunts the statue, not knowing Roberts is beyond hearing her.  Stepping over his rigid body, she strides back into the workroom and focuses on the control box he's left on the table.   Bending over it, trying to figure out the switches and dials, trying to find the setting to free here frozen sister, she fails to notice the red 'active' light illuminate on one of the TV cameras attached to the wall.

"Wonder Girl, how splendid of you to find a way out of Henry's trap."  The disembodied voice comes from a speaker, but she's surprised enough to look around at several of the statues before coming to rest on the monitor where Moreau's image gazes back at her. "If you would be so kind to wait where you are, I'll just revive some of the guards so they can escort you back to your display."

"You'll do no such thing!"  Drusilla, frantic, sees a gun affixed on one of the statued guards' hips and pulls it out of the holster, hoping the bullets aren't blanks.  Aiming directly at the NIM control box, she threatens "Let Di -uh- Wonder Woman free, along with the other victims you've turned into statues, or I'll destroy this, this, box."

"I have others?"

"Do you have a replacement for - him?" She points the gun at the guard statue, trying to bluff.

"We both know you would do no such thing, my dear.   Life is something sacred to you, even a miserable one like his.  Do you have any other threats?  Time is passing and I am growing weary of this dull banter."

"I've alerted the IADC and they'll be here in minutes to take you into custody.  Until then, I'm getting out of this freaky sideshow."  She throws down the gun and sprints to the door, as two of the immobilized guards begin to reanimate.

Moreau merely smiles and twirls another dial on his console.  Wonder Girl manages to get to the other side of the workroom before her feet seem to turn leaden.  "Having difficulty, Miss Prince?" he smiles slyly.

"You - bastard!  My feet are frozen, I can't move my legs?  What??"  She struggles in place for a few seconds longer, but it's clear her body is stiffening up again, but more slowly.  She manages to reach the outer door and press the latch before freezing completely once more.

Moreau's voice sounds above and to her side; though she cannot turn her head, Drusilla knows he's watching her predicament. "What sort of a master plan would it be, my dear, if I didn't allow for at least one contingency?  The small NIM units in your shoes are not as efficient as the -ah- centrally placed unit, but they function well enough for this purpose.  I trust you won't be going 'walkabout' on us again anytime soon.  Henry will see to that.  Goodbye, again, Miss Prince."

Her paralysis is different than previous NIM's effect on her body — she remains conscious while being completely immobilized from head to toe.  Frustrated, she watches helplessly as Roberts enters the workroom and glares at her, knowing the tables have turned yet again.  Two of his henchmen pick her up by her arms, lifting her slim body easily and carry her back into to the gallery.  Drusilla can only feel the 'click' of the magnets as she's put her back on her platform.  With effort, they pose her stiffened figure and arms again in the same stance Wonder Girl's statue had held before.  She is powerless to resist them and knows what is coming next as Roberts places a gem-like NIM into her navel, smoothing her costume so that the device is hidden from view.

She hears the tell-tale warble and an unstoppable stiffness throughout her body.  The last conscous thought in Wonder Girl's mind is:  "So Close, I was SO close..." before she is overcome yet again by the compelling command "I am a Henry Roberts statue. . . I am a Henry Roberts statue..."

Then Drusilla Prince returns to being an inert, immobile, stunningly life-like effigy once more.


The End?

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