The Third Shot

By Posyomismo.
Written in August 2017

Ana stroked her clit gently. She still felt the pleasure of her hand with it, though she was already stiff because of her petrification. She opened her eyes for a few seconds, before the pleasure made her moan again and closed them again, as she concentrated completely on the sensations coming from her sex. Even so, it gave her time to see how her whole hip had already acquired the texture and gray color of granite, as it spread further down her legs and up her waist, and she smiled as she thought about it.

Soon she would be a statue. Beautiful, static, sensual... and completely helpless. That thought of complete and utter helplessness excited her to indescribable levels. Maybe this time it would be the definitive one. Maybe this time her dangerous game would reach its end, and she would become a statue forever.

For a brief moment, while still stroking her solidified, granite vagina, she opened her eyes again and looked at the nightstand next to the bed of the hotel she was in, as if wanting to make sure she had left everything ready for the umpteenth time. There she could see an envelope with a handwritten note in it saying “To whoever finds me”, and a small white hand spray bottle with the word “antidote” handwritten on it. She sighed in satisfaction, seeing that both objects were still in place, and then sighed with joy when she received a wave of pleasure again. She had the urge to put her fingers inside her pussy and contract it as she writhed, to release the orgasm that was brewing, but the petrification was already overtaking her breasts, and almost the entire lower part of her body was already completely paralyzed. Only her feet, whose toes wiggled almost convulsively, were still flesh and blood, though she was sure that wouldn’t last long. So she knew that the climax would not yet come, that it would still grow until the final moment.

Ana remembered exactly what she had written in the note. It was the same one she’d used on the previous two occasions that she had yielded to her dark fantasy, and she had transformed herself, with a Gorgon potion she’d gotten in internet, into a statue, alone in a hotel, a place out of her full control, while she fantasized, imagining herself at the end, for all eternity, like a beautiful version of herself, sculpted in stone.

In her message she detailed what she had done to herself, and that it was a reversible process, but only for the first 24 hours, and indicated the time when she had planned to take the potion. If whoever found her sprayed her with the aerosol antidote, the petrification would slowly reverse, and she would be flesh and blood again. She also detailed that, as a living and completely unique statue, she was valuable. Very valuable. Her price would have six figures, at least. And that there would be many powerful people willing to buy her. In fact, within this same description of herself as possible merchandise, she attached an I.P. address on the deep web, to contact a trafficker who would be willing to acquire her without asking too many questions, or put too many conditions on the sale at the time of payment. And both options finished with a paragraph telling whoever was going to read it that they could do with Ana what wanted, whether they chose to restore her, keep her or sell her. She wouldn’t judge or hold grudges against the person for it. Mainly because, when the transformation ended, her mind would be paralyzed too, so she would never know that she had lost. When she had started playing this dangerous game, she knew very well that it was like Russian roulette, that losing in the game meant losing everything. The potential of losing everything was what excited her above all else.

A moan came once again from her lips without her being able to stop it. Her breasts were already as stiff as her pussy, she could see it while she touched the left, but without stopping to caress her clitoris. She was beginning to feel colder, since the granite in which she was being transmuted had begun to lose the heat of living flesh. Again she imagined herself exhibited in some sort of erotic museum, or in the private collection of a collector, and she smiled. It was so exciting, without any obligation or duty, simply being a nice beautiful figure. People would be surprised at her realism when they saw it, and every so often a maid would clean the dust that had settled on her, like any other decorative piece. Or maybe they would lock her in a glass case to prevent her from being damaged or stolen. All of these were wonderful, exciting thoughts for Ana, but the best thing of all was that if any of it finally happened, she would never know.

She wanted to feel the embossed folds of her pussy again, but she couldn’t, because the petrification had overcome her elbows, which made it impossible to move most of her arms. There was little time left. In addition, her breathing had begun to slow, having been reduced to slight sighs, since her lungs were also beginning to harden and her diaphragm was almost completely converted into the same gray stone that could be seen on her skin. The petrification always began in her vagina, since sexual excitement was the trigger to activate the potion, and it was spreading through her skin first, while then working it’s way inside of her body. She remembered her previous two petrifications, and if this kept the same pattern, in a few seconds her breathing would stop, and only a minute or so after that, all of her would be solid rock. She almost wished she could move a little just to release some of the built up pleasure. Almost. It was better to wait for that minute, with her last thoughts, when her eyes were becoming beautiful, but cold stone carved features... Then she would feel the liberating climax, just as her stone slumber was upon her.

She recalled that same orgasm, indescribable in her last moments of the previous two occasions. In the first one, she was discovered by a bellman who entered the room to see if she was all right, after she had passed the time of departure, discovering her in all her stone glory. Later restoring her, the boy admitted that he had been tempted to leave her like an statue and sell her, but his conscience got the best of him, and he gave her back her humanity. Therefore, as a reward, she gave him one of the best fucks of his life, and a very good tip. On the second occasion a cleaning woman found her and immediately restored her. This time Ana couldn’t enjoy it as much, because the woman was deeply religious, and the cleaning woman gave her a sermon for her dangerous behavior and for tempting God. She listened for a while and accepted a card with the phone number of a support group, although the whole time the cleaning woman preached to her, she couldn’t avoid getting bored, and she wished the woman would leave her so she could masturbate while the sensations were fresh from her petrification of the past few hours. On this occasion she had decided to raise the bets, and the hotel where she stayed was considerably cheaper. It wasn’t a dodgy place, but of course it was more likely that whoever found her would be impressed by her price as a statue and then finally, she would end up being a statue forever. That thought made it even more exciting.

With her petrified lungs no longer providing oxygen to what little was left of her that remained flesh Ana was getting lightheaded, and she knew that there were only seconds left to go. If she had been able to see herself, she would have noticed that except for the upper half of her head, the whole body, even her hair, was inert granite. She blinked quickly, seeing her beautiful stone body, and her eyes stopped moving, staring blankly ahead as they went from vibrant, glistening windows to her soul, to blank lifeless stone orbs. Her last moment as a human culminated when her brain suddenly released the torrent of endorphins that had been building from her excitement in the form of a gigantic orgasm that would have made her scream if she had still been flesh and blood. Her last thought that she had through her orgasmic haze was wondering to herself if this time would be the time. If her life as a human being was ending forever and if her new existence of being a mere object forever was beginning.

Or would this just would be her third shot in her continuing game of roulette?

The Third Shot