Nalen squinted.

    She wasn’t some old-world snob. During her time in the Academy, many students had complained that art in the abstract was somehow not art at all - that only glorification of the Gods was true ‘art.’ The Warden knew that was ludicrous.

    Art could take any number of forms. She respected the fine craftsmanship that went into every inch of filigree within her office. The abstract was no stranger to her, either. While Elijah might brush off a painting as “just a bunch of scribbles,” she knew that the true beauty was in the feeling. The story behind a piece and the emotions it provoked was just as important as some stuffy general in the Alysan army.

    She took a step forward and scratched the back of her neck. She still didn’t get this one.

    “I see you’re deep in thought, Warden Kara.”

    Giannino di Luppi had sidled up next to the warden. Nalen yelped with surprise, placing one hand on her sheathed saber. After a tense moment, she relaxed and regained her composure. “Yes, it is… it’s exquisite, Giannino.” The man had been quiet as a painting for most of the day.

    “You like it?”

    “Of course,” Nalen lied.

    “Really?”

    “It’s breathtaking,” lied Nalen again.

    The sculpture itself was a humanoid statue that stood atop a heavy stone plinth. It had been sculpted of the finest, shiniest obsidian and polished to an incredible sheen. It shone with such incredible splendor that Nalen could see herself dimly reflected in its curves.

    And it was very curvy. It was a woman, standing seductively with her arms behind her back. She had her head bowed in a coquettish pose, and her legs crossed. Towards the calves they flowed together in one solid, thick block which mated with the base.

    The face was quite finely sculpted as well. There was a dim outline of eyes and a nose, and some rather lifelike lips. They had the most sweet and succulent pout that made her appear profoundly seductive - despite the fact that she was just a black statue. What had broken Nalen’s artistic appreciation were other details; namely the statue’s rear. Its butt had been given exaggerated curves and generous breasts that made it seem something like a harem bimbo. The thick, pouty lips certainly didn’t dispel that notion.

    A dozen such statues and sculptures adorned the showroom, and two dozen or so courtiers were visiting. The Alysa City Exhibitionary had been proud to host the di Luppi collection, charging a nominal fee to see the sculptures and statues. Rumors had abounded throughout the city that seeing the statues could provide virility, long life, and potency. The Exhibitionary had been happy to lean in to the myths, resulting in record lines and attendance.

            The Warden’s eyes flitted to a pair of figures that had been placed for maximum contrast. One, a man, peacefully rested on his back. His hands were pleasantly folded on his stomach and his pose was perfectly relaxed and neutral. Though he had a vague impression of hair, his ‘face’ was utterly smooth. Standing next to him was a woman who had sunk to her knees and was trapped in an image of utter torment. The hardened material had been sculpted very finely here. The woman’s arms were tucked tight behind her back in a fantastically strict reverse prayer position. Her breasts jutted out as she arched backward, with her face trapped in a silent scream. The two sculptures made quite the pair.

    “I could make you a statue, if you’d like. My sister and I are always eager to work with nobility such as yourself.” Giannino bashfully tapped his fingers together. Nalen waved him off. “I appreciate it, but I don’t think I quite appreciate your style.”

    Other statues ranged from the artistic to the incredibly lewd. The most scandalous was that of an Elven prince and his bride consummating a wedding. She gripped at a wooden post for support, while he… well. Nalen didn’t spend too much time looking at that one. It reminded her too much of a romance novel she had stashed somewhere in her office. There was something about the smooth, blank faces that drew her in. Even without facial features, she could completely imagine the emotions that they felt. She could feel the intensity of purpose, of chaste behavior thrown aside in favor of raucous lust. It was best to turn away before she imagined herself in the role of the maiden.

    A few paces to the left stood another piece. The female on display was exquisitely sculpted, as were the rest. The allegory of persecution was a bit overt. This piece featured a young woman - made, of course, of the same shining ebony material - tied tightly to a pole, as though she were about to be burnt at the stake. She was fairly sure that prisoners condemned to death didn’t wear fat collars or wide red ball-gags.

    “Do you like that one, Miss Kara?”

    Nalen waved him off again. She didn’t answer the question. “The burglar has struck this art show for three years in a row, and each time he - or she - arrives on the very last day. My suspicion is that they work at the Exhibitionary, sneaking in while all of the art is being loaded up.”

    Giannino nodded. “And you plan to-”

    “I plan to catch them in the act,” she said. Her smile had turned upward into a haughty grin. “Since our thief loves art so much, I plan to make them a long-term exhibit in the Devil’s Gullet.”

     

    ===

     

    Nalen kicked the door open. It slammed hard against the wall, and she dove into the room with her sword already drawn.

    Giannino sat in the center of the storage room, surrounded by half of his sculptures. He wriggled in his bonds, flexing his arms against the ropes which kept his body taut against his chair. He muffled something sheepily into a gag.

    The Warden proceeded forward with slow impunity. If this was a trap, she’d know. She wasn’t going to get caught off-guard. She just knew that if he was squirming and struggling, telling her to ‘get away’ that there’d be a bunch of bandits ready to have her bound and gagged. Well! She was smarter than that.

    “Are you alone?”

    Giannino nodded. Nalen proceeded closer.

    “Is it safe to untie you?”

    He nodded again.

    She crept closer and closer until he was within striking distance. She raised her saber and brought it down, setting him free in a single stroke.

    “My hero,” said Giannino. He rushed for her and  threw her arms around the woman. Nalen blushed; his head was a bit too low, and his grip was a bit too tight.

    In fact, it was quite snug. She tried to throw him off but felt weakened, slower. She hadn’t been drugged, but she simply felt so… lifeless. He pushed her backwards a few paces, then spun her around so that she was looking back towards the door.

    Standing in the slightly-bent frame was a woman who seemed to look quite a bit like the artist, but with a sneering grin and malicious, calm sense. She was flipping a paintbrush in her hands like a Bondarian assassin might flick a dagger. With a stammer, Nalen fell to the ground. It was as though the color had been drained from her.

    Wait… no. The color had been drained from her! She looked at her clothing and noticed it a bit more muted. She flicked off her glove and saw her skin was paler than usual!

    “Not to worry, Warden,” said the woman. She was grinning as she finished untying Giannino. “I, Giannina di Lupi - no relation, by the way, as this whelp is not my brother - am the greatest artist in the land. It just so happens that you’re going to be my next canvas. Don’t bother to speak, Warden. I’ve drained some of your color. You’re going to get it back, though. All it takes is a little time and you’ll recover just fine. If you keep struggling, I’ll drain all of it, though, leaving you alive but inert - like a statue. And I’d really hate to do that. Sure, it’s fun to watch someone struggle and squirm as you turn them into an empty vessel for your artistic genius, but…”

    She kicked the sword from Nalen’s hand. The Warden groaned. Her gorgeous chocolate-brown skin felt so lifeless. She felt ridiculous! I got it all right! It’s not fair! She’d even deduced that the art thief was someone who knew the victim - in this case, Giannino. She just didn’t anticipate Giannino being in on the plan. She grimaced and squirmed as the two spoke to one another.

    “You won’t hurt her, will you, ma’am?”

    Giannina patted her submissive compatriot on the head. He blushed. “Of course not, Nino. That would be silly. I never hurt my art - you wouldn’t harm your canvas, would you? Unfortunately, this woman also deduced - rightly - that our artistic endeavors are former patrons. That elven prince and his maiden, the kneeling noble… all of them were wealthy patrons who tried to reneg on a deal. But we made sure they got what they asked for. Don’t you remember what my cohort asked you earlier? ‘I could make you a statue.’ We’re just fulfilling the deal!”

     Nalen huffed. She could feel some energy returning to her extremities. Giannino motioned to alert Nina before she got lost in another monologue. The Warden soon found herself in a personal, private prison so exquisite that, were she not the imprisoned victim, it might very well be worthy of displaying in her office.

    She’d been stripped down to her undergarments, with nothing but her bra, panties, and stockings to keep her virtue. With color returning to her body and tensions building, she found herself squirming and struggling with increasing vigor. Unfortunately, her time as a color-drained captive had been more than long enough for the artistic evildoers to tightly bind her arms behind her back and repeat it with her legs.

    They gave her a few minutes of squirming and straining. Watching someone as noble and vaunted as The Warden of Alysa Prison was just too great an opportunity to pass up. It was incredibly inspiring. Nalen spotted her two foes teasing each other, giggling as they watched beads of sweat form on Nalen’s forehead. If she could only get to her sword, she’s slice her restraints and have the two of them thrown deep into the Gullet! Alas, even as she had her physique and strength, she hadn’t a chance of freedom. She was still too weak, and the bonds too strong. Her captors spent their fair share of time simply toying with her - running their feet up and down her body, rolling her around on the floor, and watching Nalen arch her back as she tried to break free.

    When they’d had enough, they decided to finally consign her to a fine statuary. They brought her to a work-table and forced her onto her knees. They gently pressed her head and floofy hair down until her head nearly touched the table. It was a symbol of worship or obsequious obedience. With her arms also firmly behind her back, it made for a thoroughly submissive image. It certainly helped that her pose helped to accentuate her rear.

    Nalen was blushing. This was just as humiliating - if not more - than any other ill treatment she’d received during her investigations. As they began to work, her only recompense was that nobody would be able to tell it was her.

    Their magical rubber flowed up and down her body, directed and applied with the twins’ paintbrushes. It tickled her inner thighs most cruelly, making her squirm and flex with each new layer they glopped on. A few thin coats here, a thick swab there, and soon enough her gorgeous skin was replaced with a darker hue.

    With her body still transparent, though, they went for another layer. This time they made sure to fill in all the cracks and anywhere they missed - and they went everywhere. Nalen would have been spluttering with rage had she not been gagged, and that gag sealed to her face with a nice shiny rubber enclosure.

    As it started to harden, she noticed that they were spending more attention than they had any right or reason to on her curves. She knew that the moment she got out, she’d be sentencing them to twenty years imprisonment apiece! Maybe more! Unfortunately, that would mean escaping first… and that looked like it was not going to happen.

    When the morning came, Nalen was nowhere to be found. Instead a shiny rubber statue - sealed up and preserved under layers of skintight magic - graced the closing ceremonies. It had been placed on a tall pedestal, so that all lookers could really gaze on its features. They got to comment on the tight bra and fine details - like the lacey panties that the statue wore! Viewers even had the rare chance to examine and touch the well-sculpted and carefully crafted face, complete with a curious poof of hair on her forehead. Very commendable.

    With the closing ceremonies done, the “statues” - including their latest creation - were all packed away in creates. Some had hay to keep them steady, while others were simply thrown together. All of the ones that were ‘straight’ for example, were carelessly tossed into a single crate to save space. It wasn’t an issue for the statues, of course; each of them was trapped in an impenetrable, preserving magical encasement. The twins even made their stone-like exteriors malleable. It was just enough to flex in, just barely enough to let the captives squirm and grind like a pile of helpless hostages. It was a pathetic - and penetratingly exciting - sight, and the di Lupis took great joy in watching their rubberclad reserves carefully packed away for transport.

    Last of all came their newest statue. The two took their time in debating how to transport her. Remove the enclosure and bring her along as a hostage? Seal her under the floorboards to be found later? Pose her and take her along for the ride?

    Eventually, the two of them agreed to leave her here, in an appropriately ‘peaceful’ pose, as a donation to the Alysa Exhibitionary for all their fine hospitality. After all, the museum had been very good to them indeed; it was only fair to leave them with a real masterpiece.