The soft music plays in the background, as sharply dressed men and women mingle throughout the spacious house. There are pockets of laughter and glasses clinking together, just as there are pockets of silence, as people nibble on their fancy appetizers from their fancy plates. The servers walk around in sharp, crisp black-and-white suits, both male and female wearing the same thing. Just their presence alone, gives the evening a feeling of importance, as if the guest list was so selective, that you had to be specially selected to even check the list to see if your name was on it. The man standing in the middle of the large living room can easily answer that question for you: your name is not on the list.







Professor Bolchinsky stands tall in the middle of the spacious room, even if he is not all that tall. His clothes match those around him, so his black tux and tails are perfectly pressed and tailored to him. His brown hair, which is usually more of a mop on his head, is combed and slicked down to one side. He wears his custom glasses tonight, giving off the appearance of superior intellect and wealth. And no one has to ask the after shave he is wearing, because he reeks of it this evening: arrogance. This is just a taste of what is to come, he speaks to himself confidently, and it is about time...my time, he tells himself with as much entitlement as he can muster.







"Ah, doctor," the rather heavy-set fellow says walking up to him, "I was meaning to ask you about the findings from the Persian dig last month." The Professor turns to see his colleague from the university. The man almost waddling in his tux looks so much like a penguin, that the Professor has a hard time not laughing in utter mockery. However, he keeps his poise, maintaining his perfect host posture, but curls one side of his lip up, and decides he can continue to play the university lecturer part...for now.





"Indeed, I had been dreading your questions," the Professor says with obvious humor in his voice, "So come, I'll show you what they found...or rather, what they did not find." The two men walk out of the room, unbeknownst to anyone in the room. The crowd seems content with their conversations and drinks, so two men, even if one of them is their host, walking out does not matter to them, as there are many rooms in the house for them to visit. The colleagues make a series of turns down a hallway on the first floor of the castle-looking mansion, to find a much more quiet spot in a study or den.





As they walk in, the Professor moves to walk behind a table, but the other man stops short, unsure of what he is seeing. On the desk, it appears to be a glossy woman, completely nude, sitting on the desktop. She has her hands to her sides with her palms resting on the desktop for support. Her hair comes below her shoulders and is full body, which seems to match her figure as well. Curious to see more, he continues now across the room, as the Professor steps behind the desk. With the added steps behind him, the "penguin" can see the woman is naked in the front as well, with her impressive chest sticking out, a gleaming smile on her face, and most surprising, a tablet wedged between her legs and chest.

Like he might be staring at a regular chair, the Professor reaches out and snaps the tablet off of the woman. She shows no reaction to his taking the tablet off her, and based on the sound, this statue is made of something smooth and very stiff. As the Professor searches for the screen he needs, the penguin asks, "I have to ask, what kind of statue is that?" The Professor, obviously wanting to show her off but not act like it, replies, "Oh, I had it made during the experimentation of the petrification and preservation process from the Mayans. The exterior is a resin composite. Touch it if you like."





The penguin cannot help himself, so he does. Knowing he is alone in the room with the Professor, he immediately goes for the chest, feeling it's hard and smooth surface. He takes his time circling the entire mound of shiny stiffness, marveling at the detail of the statue. "This is incredible, I mean, she looks like she could stand up right now if she wanted to." The Professor looks up and says to himself, oh I am sure she wants to, but that will not be happening. "No, she could not, and would not want to, as it is not a real person. This is one of those love dolls preserved in resin composite, so nothing living here."





The penguin nods his head, taking the Professor's words at face value and continuing his exploration of her body. Her tight waist, wide hips make for a lovely view, and then he touches her hair on her head. "Extraordinary," he exclaims, "Completely stiff as well." The Professor holds out the tablet now, "As you can see here, monkeys throw pineapples at polar bears." The penguin nods his head absently, "Mhmm, yes." The Professor chuckles to himself, ah the strong minded can be made weak when you know the right pressure points. The Professor allows the penguin his time in admiration, knowing this was a power play he will need to repeat with others to ensure his control over others.





Finally after a few moments of admiration, the Professor says, "We should be getting back to the party. You're content with what I showed you." The penguin nods his head, believing his questions were answered. As if coming out of a trance, stepping away to follow his colleague, "And did you mean to have it look so much like your late wife?" The Professor, feigning sorrow, replies, "Yes, actually. She modeled for this not long before the accident. I may have lost her living body, but her perfect resin body will live on forever." The penguin pats his friend on the shoulder in a sympathetic way. As the men leave the room in silence, they cannot hear the woman sitting on the desktop with the perfect smile and hair holding the tablet between her legs and chest, screaming internally to be set free.





The constant thumping goes unnoticed to the house guests. He knows this house well, so finding a quiet spot is not hard for him. Of course, that is not the only thing hard on him. The young woman he has pinned against the wall seems to be enjoying his hard member, and while her eyes have not gone crossed yet, he knows if he adjusts his pace and intensity ever so slightly, she will scream with ecstasy. He wants to smile and enjoy this, but this is all business for his "father", so he finds no pleasure in it. Sure, he is making the sounds and moans so that she is triggered into thinking he is all into her, but he knows better. If she was paying attention to him, she would see no smile on his lips, no joy in his eyes, and the moans are not legitimate.





The drug in her drink was the usual one he kept on his person. She was hesitant to come tonight, as her status as a popular sorority girl does not fit this "high school boy". What she does not know is that he is older than her, graduating high school many years ago, and that he will most likely be the last person she gets to interact with in a very long time. She kept getting hotter throughout the evening and as her temperature rose, so did her desire for him. When he suggested a quiet place to talk, she agreed. When he suggested a room without any chair molding along the middle of the wall, she agreed. As pressed her against the wall tightly so she could scoot up the wall slightly to be in the right position, she agreed. By the time he was in her and thumping her against the wall, her brain would have agreed to anything he suggested.





He knows he can finish her at any time now, but he will have to wait, as he sees a reflection in the doorway. "Father, I'm busy right now," he says while still completing his thumping of his date. The Professor steps in without smiling, "I can see that. You took your time pinning her though. Do you plan to finish her anytime soon?" As if the conversation is very natural with the thumping background noise, Robbie replies coldly, "I can end her life of freedom at any time now. She is ready," he says somewhat breathlessly, "I was waiting for you to leave." The Professor raises an eyebrow, "Leave? This is why I came up here." Robbie tries to keep a frown from showing on his neutral face, "I know how to do this." His breathing and rhythm keep a steady pace, as the young woman has almost stopped reacting. Her mouth is open and drooling, her eyes are crossed, and her head has gone limp.





The Professor stares at the young man coldly, "If I could believe that completely, I would not have come to check on you." Robbie holds in his anger and shifts slightly. He can feel her internal organs releasing now, the orgasm finally upon her. Her face and body make no visual change, other than a gasp and slight smile on her face. Hooking his arms around her shoulders, he lifts her to the side, while his member stays inside of her, and lays her curled up on the tea cart gently. She moans and mumbles and coos as she lays there in a puddle. Robbie ignores her as he wipes himself off, showing no signs of pleasure from what he just did to her.





"I'm not a child, 'father'," Robbie says while attempting to put his stiff manhood back in his pants, "She will join the others per your plan." The Professor takes a step towards him, but then turns to walk to the doorway from which he came. "I know you are not a child, but I have not seen the man in you truly come out." He closes the door behind him, leaving Robbie trembling with anger. As the woman coos in pleasure from the tea cart, he whispers, "You might not want to see the man in me come out." Regaining mental and physical control of his body, he is able to freshen up his look, zip up his pants, and conceal any evidence of what they just did.





The sounds of the mumbling woman are drowned out by the service elevator in the back of the mansion. Robbie had pushed her on the tea cart as if she was just another meal for a guest. Riding down to the cellar is long, as the elevator is old. He has time to replay the events of the evening in his head, how he made sure to talk to each female university professor for precisely twice as long as the male ones. The community leader's conversations were to be short and positive, as if he is a young man interested in politics but only if he can be like the person he was talking to. And of course, each politician loved his "kissing up", so he was given more information about campaigns and back-door-deals than he should have. His date, still pooled on the tea cart, was so impressed that he knew all these peoples names and ideals. She had no idea how long he spent memorizing dates, names, faces, and documents to be ready for this night. I cannot even remember my real name, he thinks with a frown, but I know everything there is to know about the illegal nature of our politicians. As the elevator stops moving, he is reminded to stop the audio recording on his phone, having built enough incriminating evidence about the guests for his 'father' to use later. He says the name 'father' sarcastically, knowing full well that is not who the illustrious professor is to him; however, just like he cannot recall his real name, he cannot even begin to recount the real name of his 'father'.





The old metal doors open, letting the smell of the resin composite attack his nose. He ignores it and pushes her down the dim hallway. Each side of the hallway has doors that look old and made from thick, heavy wood. He steps calmly past each, heading to the bright light at the end. He shows no emotion, as his date has finally calmed down and breathes steadily in front of him. Peaceful sleep, he thinks wistfully, how long has it been since I have had that.





In the large room at the end of the hallway, a large vat of cream-colored fluid sits. It looks to be hot, as steam comes off of it into the room. He looks to his right to see other tools and devices he will need later, but now, she needs to be dipped and coated. Stopping short of the vat, he carefully removes her clothes as she lays there. She puts up no fight or resistance, and seems to be content to be naked or clothed on the tea cart in his father's cellar. He throws her outfit into a bin to his left with other female clothes. He catches a glimpse of two other figures in the room. As he gets the last of her clothes off of her, he sees the other resin statues staring out in front of them, their perfect shiny bodies glistening in the bright room.

The naked women look like they could start moving at any moment, even though he knows they cannot. They have perfect figures, perfect hair, perfect smiles, and it seems unlikely they could be real. He reminds himself these are not AI generated images, but rather real women dipped and coated in the most incredible resin compound ever known to man. Thinking of the resin, he is reminded of his date and latest conquest. Tipping the cart slightly, he watches her slide off of the top, and with an unimpressive plop, she disappears underneath the fluid. Each time, he thinks he will have to push them under the surface, as they briefly float, but there is no need. Within a second, they sink...always. He sighs heavily, thinking he might feel some remorse this time. He thought she was pretty and kinda sweet, but now she is gone and he feels...nothing. He almost takes a moment to run his hand along the stiff curves of the two resin statues leaned against the wall. Without any added emotion of his violating thought or having just dropped a young woman into a steaming vat of goo, he returns the cart to the left side of the room.





He takes an extra moment to walk over to the other two "statues". Without smiling, he says softly, "You'll have another one to join you. We are another step closer thanks to you all." The statue on the left screams "no" in her head, while the other woman simply cries internally. Robbie turns without smiling or showing emotion, even though he keeps trying to will himself to feel something. Maybe if I feel their smooth, hard bodies while they cannot protest or move, then maybe I'll get a genuine arousal. However, he knows he does not work that way anymore, so he does not even bother to try like he had in times past. He walks slowly out the door and hits the timer on the wall. He feels his phone vibrate in his pocket, which reminds him. Oh, he says to himself, I forgot to take her phone off the cart. Shaking his head, father will be upset if it clogs the drain like the last one did. Robbie makes a mental note to try and fish it out before they drain the resin vat next time. He does not want to experience that kind of punishment again from father. As the elevator closes, he shudders from that memory, knowing he has to be perfect if he wants to never be disciplined again.





"Please, I must know," the woman's voice implores softly, "You can't say 'one-of-a-kind' and then follow that with 'accident'." The older woman in her red sequin dress seems to illuminate the whole room with sparkles of light. While she is not overweight, it is obvious she does not spend much time in the gym. Her body within the dress is forced into an hourglass shape, but the rest of her shows her age more obviously. The Professor chuckles and replies, "All I meant by that, is the model for this was commissioned for a different piece all together, so it was a complete accident I got this exquisite one-of-a-kind statue."





Along with the few people in the room, they stare at the only piece of art that seems out of place. The room is decorated with a theme that could only be described as the Dark Ages. There are pieces of knight armor, paintings of pre-Renaissance scenes, pottery of some type, and of course, weapons hanging in various places on the wall. There are a few church-related items, but none quite like the one in the middle of the room. "This is short-lived-saint, Nun Catherine," the Professor says as the small audience gazes on the stiff, glimmering statue in front of them, "And legend has it that she lived a saintly life, until her one moment of indiscretion that led to both her sainthood and removal of that sainthood."

The voluptuous woman has her hands in front of her, like in prayer. She is bowed slightly at the waist, as in service or perhaps gratitude. Her cowl is clearly that of a nun with the black top and back with white edging that plays stiffly halfway down her back. Her chest hangs stiffly down in front of her, showing her youth from their perky nature. Her facial expression of piety seems unaffected by her obvious lack of body covering, even if she seems rather contrite in her pose. What little bit of her nun outfit is there, glistens just as her body does.





"It seems she was ill and dying in her young age," the Professor says while resting his hand on her butt that is sticking out behind her, "So she wanted to ensure her sainthood with the priesthood." He removes his hand then walks around her to lightly touch her 'praying hands', and continues with, "So, she made her rounds, if you will, with each member of the clergy. She told no one, so she left each priest with a smile and a request." He then turns to face the audience who seems to be hanging on every word of his, "So when she died shortly thereafter, each one presented her name for sainthood, and they all readily accepted it, obviously. Of course, the truth came out many years later, so her sainthood was removed, but her legend still lives on."





The people nod their heads slowly, taking in the history lesson. As he finishes his story, they each take a moment to reach out and touch the statue. The resin finish is so incredibly shiny and hard. Even the women who have no interest in feeling another woman, even if it is a statue, cannot help but enjoy the smooth, hard finish the resin provides. As they mumble and marvel to each other, captivated by this exquisite piece of art, the red-sequined woman asks, "But, you said it was an accident you came by this piece of art. What could they have been trying to do with that pose?"





The Professor wonders if he should say more. He is about to reveal something unknown about his process, and while he feels like his story and drug-laced drinks will pull all of them to his cause, he wonders if he should really say more. However, his arrogance will not allow him to back down, so he replies, "Ah, that is an excellent question. As it turns out, a model once dipped and coated can be reposed. By applying a specific temperature of heat to a body part, one can bend and thereby pose the model into whatever you want. Of course, you have to have the exact right temperature. Too hot, and it may bubble or melt, but not hot enough, and the resin could crack or break. If it is not perfect, the whole process has to be restarted over at great cost."





"Model?" the woman asks quizzically, "You don't mean this was a real person, do you?" The Professor decides to test his mind controlling skills with his remark, "Ah, you misheard me, I said love doll, not model. Each statue was a love doll that was dipped and coated." The facial expressions around the room go rather vacant and neutral, as if someone went in their memory and replaced the word "model" with "love doll". Each of them has stopped moving, as they process what has been told to them. They each find the change made simply, and almost in unison their heads bob, as if someone hit the enter key to make the change permanent.





"Right, he said love doll," one mumbles..."I heard love doll, too," another remarks..."Her hearing must be going like the rest of her," another says in a snarky, but very quiet, fashion. "Of course, of course," the older woman replies, "Sorry, I must be getting tired. Thank you for sharing your story and artwork with us." The Professor nods, as if to say "my pleasure", but he actually is saying, "you are all one step closer to being completely under my control." The crowd returns to their evening without their host leading the discussion. As if the nun statue could hear his thoughts, she literally prays that she be set free, and hopes that none of these unsuspecting people join her in her resin prison.





In another waiting room down the hall, she stands there offering his medicine. She wonders why he is not taking it from her hand, as it is obvious she is holding it out for him. Of course, she thinks to herself, I feel like I'm just standing still waiting for him to...





At this point, she realizes she has let herself be pulled back into the fantasy. The broad smile on her resin coated lips does not truly reflect her feelings, as she begins to recall where she is and why she cannot move. The man in front of her is not Professor Bolchinsky anyway, as this man is much older than him. And, she chides herself, I'd like to cover myself up a bit more, based on the look this old man is giving me. There's a reason our standard scrubs are loose fitting...functional. What I'm wearing now is anything but either...





The red color is nice, in that it matches the red cross of those that have chosen to help preserve life. Her nurse hat is like something out of the 1950's, but it does keep her hair out of her eyes, or rather, it would if her hair was not as stiff as the rest of her body. She has seen what other "statues" like her are wearing, so she is thankful all of her private parts are covered. She is definitely more exposed with the halter, bikini-like top, and the miniskirt that is held together by strings (literally). The one good thing are the shoes, or the lack of them. Her stocking feet make good contact with the ground, as she feels as though she could stand here forever. Forever, she thinks with a frown, that takes me back.

I figured he would be grateful when I told him his meds that he was under were wrong, so that he could be taking the right doses and shouldn't have to take them "forever". However, all he wanted was another conquest, and I should not have made that final house call. I somehow knew something was wrong, and that it was a trap of some type, but he sounded so genuine and in need. Then he talked of his wife's failing health and the way his son was depressed, and I just could not ignore him and the warning signs. Now, she scowls internally, I'm not even sure if he was really married or if the guy who he calls "son" is actually his "son".





At least the process did not hurt when I was dropped into that vat of goo, and I don't feel any pain standing here, she tells herself with some hope. He has said that the process can be reversed, and he may need me again. I don't know if that is a good thing or not, but at least I won't be stuck like this forever...stuck like this forever. I am so much more than just standing here and giving pills, and that is all I do...here is your pill. I stand here...I stand here...and I offer...offer...your pills, sir. You do not want to forget to take them again. That's why I'm here, sir. And if you are a good boy and take all your medicine without complaint, I'll let you play with me. Wouldn't you like that, sir?





And her mind cycles back through the hypnotic messaging that was programmed weeks ago, so that she falls regularly into the fantasy of being the Professor's sexy nurse. The guests walking around her cannot hear the story and thoughts of her as they play out over and over again. To them, this is just another perfect resin composite statue that the Professor was able to make through his preservation research into the Mayan and Persian empires.





Sometimes, there are surprises that even the Professor or his son cannot predict. At the coffee shop, the son had stopped between errands for the chemicals they needed for the drugs and the resin compound. The lady in front of him in line wore a more masculine outfit, with her baggy pants and hiking boots, but her top was tight and up to her neck, but it was obvious she had a feminine figure. As she was ordering, he noted her ear piercings and her nose ring as she turned around to get her wallet. He decided he might want to meet her, so he moved himself a little closer so she had to bump into him.





The salesperson forgotten for a moment, she turns all the way around to apologize. Good strong features, he notes. Hmm, she's smart and agile, based on her looks and movements. "Oh, I'm so sorry," he says apologetically, "I wasn't paying attention." Her surprised look becomes a slight smile, "Oh, no problem...I think I am the one that bumped into you." He smiles sweetly, "Well, then I am honored you did. Nice to have something good in my day!" She continues to process this "random" interaction, thinking this stranger seems nice, or is it needy?





He reaches past her, brushing his arm against hers, "Here, let me get yours for you, since I upset your day." The salesperson shows no emotion and gladly takes the cash offered her. The lady in line protests, "Oh, don't do that, really." But he then responds, "Too late...I bought your coffee, so we are even." Then he says in his mind, but we are not are we? You know you owe me something, right? She seems to roll what he said over in her mind, so she shrugs her shoulders and says, "Thanks."





He smiles back, waiting. She steps to the side to wait for her coffee while he orders. She is still thinking about what happened, he tells himself, I just have to be patient. He orders his coffee and steps to the side where she is waiting. Don't make eye contact...don't let her know you are interested...just be natural. "Excuse me," she says to him, "You want to join me for a coffee? Figure we already know each other somewhat, right?" He smiles, like he was surprised, but he knew he was going to get an invitation.





Like so many times before, his father had shown him how to manipulate people, and this time was no different. However, when he convinced her that maybe they could go someplace quiet for more than just a coffee. She had broken up with her girlfriend recently (which he suspected she had had relationship problems recently), and she was not sure she was ready to try a relationship again. "Truthfully," she says in a moment of vulnerability, "I'm not even ready to smile right now." He did not say anything about a relationship, but then she balked again that he may not be interested in "her type". He contemplated how to best hook her, and as they talked and he observed, he put out his not conventional plan. Since she delivers food to people for a fee, he offers to ride in the floorboard of her car and do his best to bring a smile back to her face. She tries to discourage him, as he does not know what he is asking, but he them made a promise, which he figured would be a trigger for her.





It was, so he found himself sitting on the passenger side floorboard, while the rest of him worked its way between her legs while she drove her pick-up truck. He has done this before as part of his training that his father put him through, but this would be the first time he had done this for a conquest. As he unzips her baggie pants, she makes a few turns and then stops. She puts her hand on his head, "Hang on, tiger, let me get this order." He murmurs softly, "Whatever you want." As she leans over to get the order, he gets a look in her pants, and sees something he was expecting at all. Wait, he thinks as his eyes go wide, why is their a bulge in there?





As she sits the food in the passenger seat, the smell of the food fills the cab of the truck. She then says as she begins to pull away, "I'll bet you didn't know you ordered a hot dogg, did you? I tried to warn you. I got both parts, so you don't...oh...you just kissed it, didn't you...oh, you lick, too," her voice takes on a whole new tone as she turns onto the expressway, "My whole life just got better."





He stares at her rigid form in one of the many rooms in their house. Her very erect member, all shiny, smooth, and hard looks very different from the first time he saw it from that truck. All of her piercings are gone, with the holes filled in expertly, giving her skin a smooth sheen everywhere. She is on her knees on the slightly raised platform, not much different than his pose that first day he met her. Robbie thinks it odd to have her in the middle of the room like this. All of the other statues have a sexual appeal that would be for almost everyone, so her prominent display of both male and female parts seems marginal at best.





However, he cannot deny how beautiful she looks there, and while he did not enjoy his conquest of her as much as the others, he knows that the ends justify the means. He takes an extra moment to touch her bare shoulder. So smooth and shiny, that it sends a slight chill down his spine. While he does not truly desire to, or at least he tells himself it is the conditioning in his head, he bends down to touch her long, extended member. To say it is hard would be an understatement, he smiles to himself as he strokes it gently. The shiny and ribbed shaft looks perfect, and while he tells himself he has no desire to do what he is doing, he knows he is finding pleasure in touching it...stroking it. Letting his hand come off of it, he enjoys a quick feel of her chest, topping of his feelings of pleasure with perfectly pert breasts.





So, he can smile to his father that he has done his job with perfect precision. He checks his watch, knowing that he has to get back to the party, but he needs something first. Pulling a piece of clay or putty out of his pocket, he wraps it around her extended member, moving in a more professional manner. Over the next few moments, he makes a perfect mold of her shaft. Once he has it done, he sprays the mold to harden it like her. Then with a klinking sound of rock rubbing against rock, he pulls it off her. Checking his work, he mumbles, "We'll make the perfect plug from this to hold 'my date' open for you once she is posed on all fours. You will like her, she's got a kinky side like you."





Slipping it in his pocket to drop off in the cellar, he moves to leave her. Turning off the lights, he closes the door. Her perfect smile and body are now hidden in the dark, just like the phrase "I hate you! I hate you!" that she keeps screaming at him, internally. He locks the door and pockets the key. This room is not quite ready for quests yet, but it will be very soon, he tells himself, and maybe father will finally start trusting me like I want him to do.





The evening was winding down, and the Professor was saying his goodbyes, and his "son" was not far from him doing the same. Each going through the motions, making each person feel like he or she was the only person worthy of being invited. It does not take long for the once full mansion to feel empty again. The rented butler and maid service had already cleaned up the kitchen by the time the two men got back to the kitchen. The back door has just closed, completing the silence. They both pull a water bottle from the massive fridge to quench their thirst. Neither speaks to the other for long minutes, as they stand in the kitchen consuming nearly all of the water within the cheap plastic bottles.





Eventually, the Professor states, "We start reposing the latest tomorrow early, as I have a lecture at 10:15. All will be ready, yes." Robbie tries to determine if he heard a question mark at the end of that, or was it simply a statement, a command. Robbie nods slightly, "The one from tonight will be ready by morning, I have all I need to make her ready to be mounted, and the others have already dried completely and ready to be reposed." The Professor nods his head, as if talking about these people is nothing more than discussing a pen or a piece of paper. With nothing more to say, the Professor leaves the kitchen to go upstairs to bed. He makes one comment as he leaves the room, "I had something moved to your room as a reminder of obedience."





I do not need a reminder, old man, he says with disgust to himself, I know what you are after and it will happen. While he suspects what is waiting for him in his room, he decides he is not as tired as he was a few seconds ago. Maybe there is something else I can do to check on things for tomorrow. He drops his water bottle in the trash can with a brand new unused bag just placed within it. He walks slowly to the staircase hidden behind the pantry that descends into the cellar of the castle-like mansion. He knows there is nothing to check on, but he is not ready for what waits for him in his room. He tells himself he can drop the mold off now, rather than waiting for the morning.





Back in the dim-lit cellar, he turns from the door he just closed to move away from the elevator at one end of the hallway to the brightly colored room at the other end. His nose recognizes where he is instantly, so he ignores that and moves closer to the vat. He looks at it, as if something might float to the top, but it does not. A bubble slowly bursts on the surface, but that is not uncommon. Grabbing a thick wooden paddle, he dips it slowly into the vat. Feeling some resistance, he pushes the paddle deeper then slides it upwards.





A face of a woman he recognizes surfaces with a surprised look on her face. Her eyes are wide open as is her mouth. Her wet, glistening look is beautiful, if he was to admit that to anyone. Her hair has not yet begun to stiffen, so it flows behind her head like it was simply wet. He looks a bit closer, noting splotches on her skin, as it accepts the resin bonding with it. That'll smooth out in a few hours, he reminds himself. Pulling the paddle back, she slowly submerges back into the vat. He replaces it on the rack to his right, then grabs what looks like a fishing net. However, the net is very stiff and the whole thing seems to be made of metal.





Dipping it even deeper, he presses the fishing net on the pole down into the vat. Scraping along the bottom, he fishes and fishes for something. Finally, he feels a slight resistance that could be what he wants. Pulling it back up, he is careful not to touch any of fluid. Should have put on my gloves, he chastises himself, father would not approve. He frowns at that thought, and nearly drops his guard and the fishing net. Fortunately, he holds it together and is rewarded by a shiny small rectangular box in the net.





Dumping it into a bucket, he returns the net to his holder, allowing the thick fluid to run off of it into a premade drain. Ignoring his tool, he steps over to the bucket to see a cellphone. It looks to be brand new and shiny. It has a perfect coating all around it, and while it seems somewhat foggy, he knows a little bit of shining will make it look perfect. Not that we need another cellphone prop for the models, but I guess one more won't hurt. At least her cellphone is a different color that the last couple he had to fish out of the vat.





He walks over to a table and puts the mold from his pocket onto it. Noting its size, he would not admit that he might be jealous of its size, but since he is alive and walking around, he would not trade places with her for even a second to have it. He clamps it to the table, so that it faces straight up. He then retrieves a ladle from the wall and scoops some of the resin from the vat. Careful to not spill any, he pours it into the mold. The creamy liquid quickly fills his mold. He returns the excess to the vat, then hangs the lade back up, which is above its own premade drain next to the wall. He returns to the mold and sees the resin already starting to form a skin on the top as it cools. "That should be good and hard by morning," he says to the mold, then he turns to face the vat. He says loudly, as if she could hear him beneath the surface, "And I think you'll find it most satisfying once we harden you around it for a perfect fit on your display partner."





Satisfied with his visit and unable to avoid the inevitable, he leaves the room. The two figures standing erect along one wall ignore him, other than silent pleading for freedom. The one "swimming" in the vat has no real brain function at the moment, so his little speech was lostn her, but her awareness will return once she is removed and dried. With a heavy sigh, he finds the long walk up the many stairs to his room a drudgery. Like he is heading to his own execution, he trudges upwards to the guillotine.





Opening his bedroom door, he is greeted by the comforts of his private "mansion". He has multiple sitting rooms of his own collectibles, including more recent works of art plus the latest in technology entertainment. He has multiple closets of clothes and shoes, and his bathroom has the largest shower and tub you can buy. He could live in just this room for weeks, especially with his small, yet fully stocked, kitchenette. This is his oasis, a place to get away from problems and memories that haunt him. But, what is in the middle of the main room burns his vision, driving him to close his eyes.





Forcing them back open with a deep breath, he gazes at her. Like she is walking to him having just finished her shower, she stands naked in lighting, glimmering like some kind of deity. She smiles warmly, as her right hand is moving to push her hair back but it is not quite there. He takes in every curve of her face, enjoying the warmth of her stare. Not lifeless, her eyes seem to convey a deep longing, almost love for him. Her perfectly fit and trim body gives the impression she could start running a marathon right then and there.





The smile that had been growing on his face, slowly disappears. He knows her, he loves her. She was his first. His first conquest, his first capture. They say no one really gets over your first time, and he completely agrees. He has not seen her in a while, as father had other needs for her, which was fine with him, as he did not want to be reminded of what he had done. Unable to turn his gaze, he looks at the position of her left arm.  It is extended down to her waist, so that her left hand can come forward and cup her perfectly round belly sticking far out from her abdomen. Like she might have to hold it up, she cradles her pregnant shape, knowing she has not much longer to go. But, he knows that is wrong, for she will never go any further in her third trimester, so long as she remains in the resin. She will remain perfectly pregnant, a not-quite-living example of how he almost defied his father. And how he hopes to still get to be with her when this is all over, for when his father wins, then I win back my life and love.

While one man looks to regain his past, another cannot wait for the future. The dark, seemingly empty "castle" sleeps, as if it needed rest after the social event, but there is another stirring downstairs. He knows he should be sleeping peacefully, but large public events always put him on edge. He stands in the kitchen, drinking his own mixture of alcohol and drugs, chastising himself for being weak like the ones he collects.





No, he chides himself, I'm not like them. Glass in hand, he moves to descend the stairs his "son" had used earlier. The glorious smell of the history-making resin fills his nostrils, giving him a rejuvenation that he sorely needed. He now tells himself he does not need his drink as crutch, so he leaves it sitting on a counter in the large room at the end of the hallway.





Everything around the room is in place, but what he really wants to see if exactly what he does: a floating body in the vat. Smiling at the perfection in the process, a coated body floats, not sinks, so you know exactly when enough is enough. Walking to the right, he pulls on a set of gloves that comes to his elbows.





Grabbing hold of the heel, he pulls the stiff, coated woman to the side of the vat, where she is then slid out onto a short, gridded platform. Her position is like she is curled into a fetal pose, her hair holds its shape, and her facial expression is still of shock, like before. He has not seen her yet in person, but he recognizes the face from the pictures he had asked for previously.





Knowing his time is short, he begins to manipulate her. Once out of the temperature-controlled vat, the body will begin to stiffen with the absorbed resin, becoming an immovable statue. He gets her on her knees easily, then he bends her over to balance herself on her hands. With a smile, he begins to properly even her out on all fours. He pulls her head back and moves her hair around so that it can stiffen into a more natural-looking style.





He adjusts her face with care, wanting that perfect look of ecstasy and pain. He gets the arch in the back just right, then moves the feet and hands slightly for a more symmetrical look. Satisfied with that, he steps back to get a better look to check his craftsmanship. He notes her perfect curves, smooth skin, and wonderfully large chest hanging freely below her.





He would like to watch longer, but he hears slight crackling noises, meaning its drying now. He quickly moves to the left of the room, grabbing the prepared substitute for her mounting pole. The resin-made shaft looks oddly out of place in his hand, and he would not admit that it makes his slightly uncomfortable to hold it, which is why he made sure his "son" was capable of handling it.





Kneeling behind the "naked dog", he grabs one hip with his gloved hand and then shoves the resin shaft into her behind, forcing her amazingly-curved butt-cheeks aside. Once in place, he knows she will perfectly fit the futa awaiting him upstairs. He can see the perfect pose of the two women thoroughly enjoying each other: the one thrusting relentlessly, while the other struggling to keep from collapsing from the pain and pleasure.





He will have to wait a bit longer, as this one needs the final shining and finishing rub that cleans any excess resin off of the body, while giving it the ultra shine that looks so amazing. Pulling off his gloves, his vision of her with her new statue partner is undeterred. He knows exactly what they will look like together, and he can already feel his hands wondering around them, enjoying their rigid passion of intimacy.





Picking up his drink, he walks back to the stairs, feeling fatigue beginning to take over his body. He knows he has but minutes before he crashes from its effects, and his bed is waiting. The dreams of his latest conquest will fill his head tonight, as it perfectly visualizes his world conquest. I will stick it to the world, he thinks with a wicked grin, and everyone will love and hate it at the same time, and I will revel in it, for I will be supreme over all.





Epilogue (i.e. the morning after)

Her frozen face of surprise is directly in front of him. He has his hands on each of her shoulders as she pushes against her. After a slight grunt, Professor Bolchinsky asks," Are you sure you made the mold of the right dick?" His son stands behind the futa girl with his hands on her butt cheeks pushing. "Yes, of course, I did. We just need to push a bit harder."





In one of the many sitting rooms, father and "son" attempt to complete their latest masterpiece. The woman on all fours with the surprised look on her face was the son's date last night, who picked the wrong place and time for their hook up. The futa girl was a very brief fling of his just a few weeks ago. His "father" seemed rather proud of him for landing such a rare find. He was skeptical at first if the shemale could be made to look more feminine while still retaining the male parts, but after getting the poor clothing choices off of them and cleaning them up, he was pleasantly surprised by her feminine features.





As both men grunt, they can hear a slight grinding sound, then a loud click and thunk echo in the room as the two resin statues lock onto each other. "There...see," he says looking around the back of the futa girl, "A perfect fit." Professor Bolchinsky uses the statue on all fours as a crutch to help himself up to his feet. "So it would seem," he mumbles as he pats the one statue on the head. He runs his hand down the back of her as he looks at the point of their connection. From the top, you can just make out the shaft of the one being almost-completely inserted in the other. The son gets down on his knees and looks from the bottom, noting the hanging parts are easily visible from there.





Oh, she exclaims with surprise, that felt amazing. I cannot believe I've been on my knees waiting for them to stick another captured statue on me. The way they posed me, I figured I was to be their personal toy. Although, she thinks with a grin, I should expected they would mount a statue on me.





The woman on all fours cannot even think. She was screaming in hopes they would let her go, but once she was mounted on the freaky woman with the man parts, her thoughts cannot seem to come together. She's never been on the receiving end like this, so it's hard to...think. Unlike many of the other captured resin-coated women, these two are connected intimately, making their thoughts less focused on being released, and more on finding release.

Professor Bolchinsky cups the futa-girls modest but still perky chest. "Verify our latest resin shipment while I finish up here." The son looks up to respond, but then he gets a very stern look, "I will finish up here, boy. You have other things to do, so do them." Without physically seeing the whip, he can feel it lashing out at him. His mental strength is only as strong as his conditioning, so he knows he must obey without question. He rises slowly and leaves the room without a word. Professor Bolchinsky clears his throat, to which the "son responds with, "Yes, sir." With a head nod, he takes his leave.





As he moves down the hall, Professor Bolchinsky takes in the two female forms in front of him. He enjoys feeling the stiff feminine features in front of him. The beautiful hips that are joined together, and the way both thighs almost merge into one. He breathes heavily on one of their shoulders, wiping away the condensation from his breath. He puts his nose up to her hair, and smells the sweetness of the resin. I really do believe that resin-coated hair smells different than resin-coated skin.





The son enters the office, as Professor Bolchinsky slips his fingers into the open mouth of the woman on all fours. The son taps away on the keyboard that is held by his fake mom, as the doctor drums his fingers on the flat, stiff back of the statue on all fours. Seeking some sort of release while exerting power over the helpless, Robbie decides he wants to feel some emotion that is prompted by himself and not his 'father'. Moving the mouse on the laptop with one hand, he moves his other hand up to fondle the resin statue holding the laptop so tightly. Tightly, he thinks, that is exactly how I would feel inside you, wouldn't I? Multi-tasking with one hand slowly moving along the touchpad and the other stroking her exposed chest, Robbie feels some sense of accomplishment as he nears his goal of checking on the shipment and arousing himself to a wonderful climax.





He decides the laptop can wait, so releases the pressure of his pants on his manhood, allowing it to prominently come out. He lets on hand continue to explore the stiff, shiny curves of a woman he does not even know her name anymore. Somewhere in his mind, he says that calling her 'mother' is not right, but he honestly has no other name. Unfortunately, he feels his sexual arousal lessening, and he realizes he is not fulfilling his 'father's' wishes, and he cannot perform without it being part of his plan.





With a heavy sigh of frustration, he returns one hand to the laptop to make the final click, while his other hand slides down her back as he begins to feel that glorious pressure again. He knows he is one click from finding the answer, but he needs another few moments as his heart rate begins to rise back up again. With as little speed as possible, he moves the mouse across the touchpad as he grips her incredibly firm butt cheek. He feels the point of no return inside of him, so he clicks the button with the other hand and opens his eyes to see the shipping info. That information completes his quest, but he is able to climax at that moment, enjoying the full feeling of release and his body's heavy breathing. He had been patient throughout the night, so he had plenty to unload. 'Mother' takes a splattering of white to the face, holding her pose rigidly, she lets the thick, creamy liquid run down her face, drip off her chin, then join the rest that had landed on the perfect mounds of her chest.





Having done this before, Robbie knows his load will slowly work its way down her front until it pools between her legs beneath the laptop without actually touching it. The resin will not allow his liquid to stick, so the clean-up will be simply wiping the puddle off the polished desk with a paper towel. His heart rate slows down, having been maxing out during his pleasure. He does not get to do that often, and this one felt very, very good. With his manhood zipped back up and the date of arrival in his mind, he moves to leave the room. He says softly, "I'll be back shortly to clean up YOUR mess." In response to his statement, 'mother' says icily to herself, I hate you as much as I hate him. Unable to hear her or even care about her, he walks slowly out of the room, another pawn in the grander game they all must play an unwilling part.