For some time now, I have been called Liam. I run a magic store in San Francisco named Enlightenment, and I am a wizard drawing near the end of my middle age--172 years. By most, my store is dismissed as just another of the New Age book-and-novelty stores that litter the city. People stop in and ask when I am going to "give it up already"; not for another few decades, I assure you.

I could hardly be an old wizard without collecting a few quirks. Yes, I collect young women as statues. Over the years, I have perhaps two dozen. So few, you say? After the first couple, the idea of simply unleashing a petrification spell lost its luster. No: I would be a collector with style. Add to this the fact that I have the luxury of being picky about appearances... I feel satisfied with my collection.

Anyway, these two lovely pieces are Brynne and Michaela. Collecting them is an interesting story; Brynne, in particular, had a more direct role in their collection than my subjects usually do. Let me share with you the story as she might have told it.  

I had been a regular at Enlightenment for several years. Michaela, my roommate of less than a year, only rarely came around with me; a naturalist at the park, she didn't have much use for "superstition," as she called it. I had a crush on her from almost the beginning: hair to her shoulders, an upbeat heal-the-world attitude, and a devastatingly luminous smile. It was shortly after the last time she went there with me--I needed to pick up some herbs and a specially shaped crystal--that my feelings for her became stronger...

Of course, this was my influence. I clearly remember the minute Brynne brought Michaela into the store. They were beautiful together, laughing, carefree. Brynne, who liked to show off, had on a summer dress, sandals, and (I saw with mage's sight) remarkably little else. Michaela was dressed more practically--a tank top and shorts. Different, but matched well together, and  I knew I must have both of them.

Of all the mind-affecting magics, certainly the easiest is to project one's emotions into another. It can be noticed and prevented by the wary, but Brynne was not. Softly, every time she came into the store, I projected onto her the most natural emotions: the lust for Michaela, the desire to possess her. Eventually she started asking specific questions about particular spells...

Heart trembling, I darted into Enlightenment. I could barely believe what I was going to do; I had never even thought of myself as very attracted to women; but this seemed inevitable, my course was set. At the counter, I pulled out a notebook and checked. "Spells number 221 and 1317, and one usage of the components for each," I ordered at the counter. Calling the spells by their number prevented suspicion from non-magical customers, and pushed back the fearful reality of what I was about to do. Liam smiled knowingly at me (I had spoken with him before to verify the spells' power), quickly packed a paper bag, and handed it to me. I handed him the handful of bills I had prepared and hurried out of the store.

On the bus back to the apartment, I examined the contents of my purchase. The spells, as most do, came in the form of several sheets of paper in a folder. A photocopy of neatly handwritten instructions: "Karanna's Potent Will: a powerful, but short-lived, domination spell." Components? Specially blended incense; and a pure wax candle, lit and then doused in water with a selection of herbs in it. All, I checked, included by Liam in the bag. I wiggled my toes thoughtfully. "The user must be without clothes, or the spell and the giving of commands will both be ineffective." Well, this was certainly nothing uncommon, and not a problem for me.

For the rest, I was not sure what to expect. A spell to transform a person into a statue was magic blacker than I had ever used before. The papers for this spell were not neatly handwritten, but full of scribblings, marginal annotations, and scratched-out sections. It was not even formally titled. For all its power, the spell required little more than incantations.

This was my work, of course--a variation on Spell #1317. Making the spell appear sloppy reduced the chance that the full function of the incantations would be too apparent.

Rather than read it thoroughly, I closed my eyes. I envisioned Michaela standing as a glorious nude statue in the living room. Even in stone her smile brightened the room, as she stretched her immobile arms behind her head. Or should she be frozen in a crouch, in a mockery of modesty? Perhaps sitting ankles crossed, as if nothing were out of the ordinary, except that she would be bare naked, and immobile forever. Imagination running, I ground my backpack into my lap for the rest of the ride home...

I arrived home shortly after five. As I walked up the steps to the front door, I knew: no sense in waiting, tonight was the night. I opened the door. Michaela was not in--she would probably be in around half past seven. Adequate, but no time for dallying. I stepped inside and closed the front door behind me.

Time to get started. First things first. I unbuckled my sandals and kicked them off, feeling the cool tile beneath my feet. I began walking back to my room, reading the directions with my right hand and undressing with my left. Shorts unfastened and kicked off... I made a mental note of the incenses I would need to combine. Bra unfastened... I tossed the packets of herbs onto my work desk and set a candle beside them. I set the instructions down long enough to peel off my shirt and panties and toss them into a corner. Strictly speaking, I didn't need to take my clothes off until I started the incantations--but it never hurt to be in the right frame of mind. Besides, being naked and barefoot was a familiar, liberating feeling. I stroked myself gently before returning to the spell.

Mixing the incense took about fifteen minutes. The spell would theoretically work without it, but at only a fraction of its potency. I carried the mixture to the living room and lit it in a burner--it soon filled the apartment with its spicy, oversweet smell. Michaela wouldn't be suspicious--both of us burned incense all the time.

Incense in the air, I turned to the rest of the spell. I lit a pure white wax candle and put it in a candleholder. I poured the herbs from their packets into a large glass of water. Then I turned out the lights, and began to recite a series of incantations:

"Frida longa anstatau io hop, do for iama alta respondo
Ju tiea aperi nedifina ehe, mebi faras eg hop, foren ilion malpli log iz..."

The recitation took almost an hour, but time flew by; I felt my will empowering the syllables even as I imagined their effect on my helpless roommate. When I was finished, my magically attuned senses felt the spell looming in the air. It was ready, but not complete without its subject.

I waited, first excitedly, and then a bit nervously, as the minutes ticked by. Goosebumps spread over my exposed skin, but covering up now was unthinkable. Finally, after what seemed like days, I heard a familiar sound: the rattling of a key in the front door lock. With a shot of adrenaline, I seized the candle and glass of herbed water and and dashed down the hallway.

I caught her with the door still open. "Michaela," I spoke in a clear voice, as I plunged the lit candle into the water. I felt the energy flow out of the air and into my lovely roommate, and knew her fate was sealed. But Michaela just looked stunned. "Brynne? What are you doing? Why are you naked? Are you okay?" The worry in her voice was genuine as she closed the door again.

"Don't worry about it. Have a seat. Take off your shoes, get relaxed," I replied calmly, gesturing towards the couch. Michaela immediately obeyed. Her movements seemed natural, but she sat in exactly the spot I had indicated. Flip-flops pulled off left her with bare feet, which she propped up on a footrest. I sat--still naked, although she didn't particularly appear to notice any more--in the recliner, facing her.

Michaela was helpless, she was mine--I could barely believe this was actually happening. My head rushing, I made a bit of small conversation: how was your day, what did you get for lunch, and so on. She answered perfectly naturally, smiling broadly and good-naturedly recounting the events of the day. I barely heard, of course. "Michaela," I cut in, "take off your shirt."

"What? Why..." she asked haltingly, but even as she did so, her hands began unbuttoning her work shirt. She wore a confused, frightened expression which lasted as she finished the buttons, shrugged her shoulders out of the shirt, and laid it onto the couch. "Brynne? What's going on?" she asked, her worry now filling with fear.

I shushed Michaela gently and she didn't continue the question. I responded anyway. "I know you don't believe in 'superstition', Michaela, but you are under my power. Let me show you. Why don't you walk over to the far wall." She took a couple of steps, and I cut in: "Freeze." She froze midstep, her heel barely raised above the floor. "You see?" I said, walking up behind her.  "You are completely helpless." I unfastened Michaela's bra and let it fall to the floor, then walked around to the front to examine her. Her breasts were as soft and beautiful as I had imagined. I had not imagined the small Celtic knot tattoo on the right breast; I smiled with pleasure as I kissed it softly.

I let my fingers trail across her skin. "Okay, Michaela, you can move again. But don't try to get away or anything." Clutching her bare chest nervously, she retreated to the couch, while I sat cross-legged on the floor.  "What are you going to do with me?" she asked, hugging her knees.

"You'll find out soon enough," I answered. Playing with Michaela was fun, but seeing her so unhappy brought my mood down as well. "Michaela, stop worrying about the future. You like the idea of being owned. Being thought of as an object makes you happy." The reaction was immediate. She moved from her defensive position, stretching out on the couch, pointing her toes and showing off her breasts and arms. Her face lifted into a brilliant smile. "Oh Brynne, this feels so good. I love not having to worry about anything."

I could not have hoped for better. "Well, Michaela, in a little while, I'm going to transform you into a statue. What do you think of that?"

She paused for a moment. "Oh! That sounds wonderful. I could be a Michaela-statue. And you would always have me, and be able to look at me or touch me any time you wanted."

"A Michaela-statue shouldn't have any clothes on," I pointed out.

"Oh! How silly of me," she exclaimed, hopping to her feet. She unfastened her jeans, then in a single motion pushed them and her underwear off. "I should have known that I should be naked just like you."

"Freeze," I ordered again. I crawled over to where Michaela was standing. She was taller than me and had long, athletic legs. I ran my hands from her waist, down her ass and thighs, to her toes. "Isn't it nice to be helpless? Unfreeze."

Michaela shuddered, but kept smiling and didn't otherwise move. "Yes, it sure is. It feels so good, Brynne. It makes me so happy that you can do anything you want to me, and it makes me even happier that you're going to turn me into a Michaela-statue."

"Let's see. How should I pose you? Stand at at attention for me." She did so, arms at her sides; her hair  bounced as she gave a playful salute. Not quite right. "Hands and knees." Michaela dropped to all fours and looked expectantly upward. I loved the submissive look, but it didn't seem to quite suit her. "Lying down?" I asked her. She lay on her back, doing her best to strike a sexy pose. I still wasn't sure.

"Okay, Michaela, I still have to prepare the spell. So while I'm doing that, I want you to find your favorite pose. Then, freeze." Michaela began walking around the room, looking thoughtfully around as if searching for the right place to hang a painting. I walked back through the hallway to my room and my desk. This was simply going fantastically well. And yet I wanted to be done--I wanted to get dressed against the cold, and I wanted to see Michaela as a statue.

At my desk, I looked again at the spell of petrification. The first step: once again, a series of incantations. They were surprisingly short: a two-minute incantation, repeated only twice. And yet I was thankful for the short length: once again, I felt the power of an incomplete spell fill the air, but this one felt chilly and foreboding. The only step that remained: a strand of the subject's hair, dipped in the caster's blood, and burned in a candle. Michaela's hair. Somehow I didn't want to see her while she was still deciding on a pose; so I fetched a hair from her brush. My blood. As I had dozens of times before, I nicked myself with a knife and squeezed out a couple drops of blood, and ran the hair through them. Licking the scratch clean, I struck a match and lit a candle, and carried the hair and candle out to the living room.

From the hallway I saw Michaela in the pose she had chosen for herself. She was leaning against the wall, bracing herself with one hand; the other relaxed against her side. Her weight was on her left foot, her right crossed casually in front of it--and she was smiling broadly. "Stay frozen, Michaela, but you can speak. Can you feel it?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Are you ready to be turned into stone?"

"Yes. I can't wait to be stone." She breathed heavily. "I'll be a helpless, naked, barefooted Michaela-statue, owned by you forever."

That was all I needed. I moved the hair into the candle flame and watched it burn instantly. The smell of burning hair reached me even over the incense, as I felt the power in the air begin to shift and move. For about thirty seconds, the air shimmered around Michaela, as if in the heat of a fire; her expression never changed. Then, suddenly, there was a loud popping sound. There was nothing to watch change: in an instant Michaela had been transformed into a beautiful, nude statue of herself.

I stepped forward to examine my prize. I ran my hands over Michaela's frozen curves; the stone was smooth and still warm. The stone face had blank eyes, but was still smiling happily. From her slightly-erect nipples to her finely combed hair to her toenails, every detail of Michaela's body had been perfectly captured as a statue. My statue. I paused to savor the thought: using my magical power, I had controlled my former roommate completely, rendering her so helpless that she actually wanted to give herself to me forever.

I was still basking in the glow of my victory when I noticed something: there was still magical power in the air. Was a spell incomplete? No... it was unfinished. I reached for Michaela again... no, she was still completely immobile. Then I noticed-- a shimmering haze of magical power surrounding her again.

I jumped back, startled. The haze of magical power wasn't just around Michaela--it was everywhere, in every direction. Then I realized: it wasn't everywhere in the room--it was around me. Somehow, the petrification spell had taken effect on me as well. Panic shot through me. Countermagic? Nothing I knew took less than an hour, and I guessed I had about twenty-five seconds. A phone call for help? Still minutes too slow.

As the air continued to shimmer, seeming to close around me, my legs got numb with fear. I knelt on the floor to try to compose my thoughts, but no ideas came. I was about to be turned to stone, as surely as Michaela had been. I was helpless now, and in a few seconds I would be--to use her words--a helpless, naked, barefooted Brynne-statue.

Naked. Object. Decoration. These words ran through my mind, overriding all else, even as the power of the spell blurred the air and my vision. My thoughts ran frantically to catch any idea of hope, but nothing came. Defenseless. Statue. Then there was a pop--

And Brynne was transformed into a statue as well. After I closed the store for the night I paid a visit to what had been Brynne and Michaela's apartment. I beheld my new trophies with pride and happiness. My plan had worked perfectly, and the nude statues were even more beautiful in person than they had been in my imagination. Brynne, short and with a devilish look to her: fearful, but tantalizing, in her complete helplessness. Michaela: lean, athletic, joyful to be turned into the ornament she now was. Certainly I would look back upon this as one of the two or three best nights of the year...