Finally, the week is over. It’s later than I would have liked, much later, but I have managed to make it home. The quiet stillness is only broken as I lock the door behind me, softly and quietly. The air is chill, and the last of the sunset light seeps through the curtains, trying to light the flat with its white,  cream and greyish hues. It’s calm and quiet, the way I like it.

I let out a sigh, finally releasing some of the nerves I’ve been holding. Not like I had a choice though.

The light echoes of my high heels reverberate as I let everything to the side on my way to the living room. The phone in my hand and the purse. Both on a conveniently placed table. Like I’m peeling off layers and layers of myself. The high heels. My footsteps become soft and quiet against the cold ground. White shirt and black skirt; long leggings; bra and panties. All left behind as a crumpled mess.

Putting the high heels back on again. The steps let muffled clacks once more, the moquette making sure the quiet and stillness remains undisturbed, but each is sending a chill down my back and making what little body hair I have stand up. Near the entrance, patiently waiting for me, is a small bottle. Nothing particularly outstanding; a cylindrical glass vial with a flat bottom and a rather ordinary looking copper cap that has a red line circling around it. I take a good look at it, a close one.

It is filled with a black liquid, still and calm as a mirror, but my eye catches the occasional golden glow. Almost like it has tiny traces of molten gold as part of it, gleaming for a moment before fading. I give it a light shake, but there is no reaction. I am not sure what I expected though. I skim the little folded instructions next to it. Product, duration, some precautions… Nothing new, but I can’t blame her for wanting to cover her bases.

Uncorking the bottle is easy, a light and enticing aroma of flowers rising from it as I swallow the liquid. It feels surprisingly warm and easy to drink, not like the last one. Different potions, different textures, I guess.

Now that the vial is clean, I put the cap back on it and set it down. I can feel my hair stand as the effect starts to take place. A warm feeling starts to overtake my whole body, spreading from the throat and my inside. Each step makes the high heels rub against my feet, sending a chill down my back, almost like the teasing hand of a lover. I can feel a warmth in my bust, exhaustion replaced by excitement and calm.

My goal is the lone armchair in the middle of a specific room, the one I always use as a statue. There is nothing else besides a single couch, should I ever find company that enjoys this as much as I do. Maybe I should ask my kind provider if she could get me in touch with a lady like me…

A soft cracking breaks the silence, halting me mid-stride. I close my eyes for a moment, enjoying the sound; it feels like it comes from my very soul. It is soothing and calming, almost being able to imagine it turning my nerves to stone before cracking them into a myriad of tiny flakes of dust. All while my body hardens and transforms into smooth and flawless stone, frozen mid motion, and to remain like that for hours. I smile, if I let my imagination be a bit more vivid, my nipples could harden without potion.

Opening my eyes, I keep walking. I shake my hips a bit exaggeratedly with each step I take. A small dance of victory before sitting on my throne.

The moment I do, I open my mouth, just a tiny bit to let out a sigh. One of relief, of pleasure, of release. The soft cushion under my rear holds me gently as my body hardens, soft and warm flesh hardening into firm and smooth stone. It comes from everywhere at the same time, making my movements sluggish and stiff. I manage to lean backwards, crossing my left leg over the right one, and spreading my arms to the side. Even with my head thrown back, the armchair will easily hold me.

I close my eyes once more, mouth shut and holding a stone faced expression. The cracking of my body fills my ear and mind, letting my imagination run wild. I picture myself, leaning back in the armchair, head thrown back and arms to the sides; My pale skin very fitting with the cream hue of my throne, while my dark hair is neatly tied in a bun. 

That quickly starts to change. My fair skin starts to darken, the cracking filling the silent room. It’s steady and unstoppable. There is no greyish in betweens, instead growing darker and darker, making the hue of the potion its own. Golden veins start to appear all over me, growing longer and wider, branching away, fighting off the monochrome black. Some are bigger, some are thinner, but they provide a gorgeous balance to my obsidian figure. From my feet to my hair, every part of me is rendered into perfect stone, as if I have always been like this. Every twitch of the muscles, caught in the moment. The only thing that can give away my true nature are my shoes.

A ticklish feeling moves up my legs, left crossed over right. They hide away my crotch, and along the armchair can only give but a tease of my rear. It is easy to fill in the blanks, as I picture a perfectly sculpted womanhood in the dark, while the cushion holds a round set of smooth butt cheeks. 

But as I move up my hourglass shape, I get to my pride and joy. The pose makes them stand up even more, making my sizable bust look even rounder and alluring. Two orbs of dark stone, a marvellous set of twins that, looking at them from the front, can almost eclipse the shape of my chin. They have but the smallest veins of gold, mesmerising and gorgeous enough on their own; and each of them is crowned by a hardened nipple. A tiny pebble that stands at the very top. I have to choose a different pose next time, one that gives them a good squeeze…

Painful and heartbreaking as it may be, my arms remain stretched to the sides, hands hanging limply. I would breathe in, letting my nerves out fully, but they are long gone by now. Seeing nothing but grey behind my stone eyelids, I can feel the night roll in as the light fully fades and the dark sets in. 

The texture of the armchair and the touch of the shoes feels fuzzy and a bit warm, even if it is fading slowly but steadily. And so, I grow conscious of the things that surround me, no matter how close or far they are.

The chilly air of an empty home permeates through my stone self, the longer I remain transformed, the colder I grow. But it’s not unpleasant. Quite the opposite actually. While I expected to grow bored or to doze off, the chilliness helps me to remain lucid. 

There is a bit of dust in the room. Tiny specks of it, fluttering freely in the air before gently setting down in my body, sticking to the stone. I can feel it, even the tiniest ones. A light reaction in the constant caress of the armchair, a loving embrace that supports me even when cold. And same goes for the high heels I wear, dutifully and steadily clinging to my stone feet; feeling them growing cold against my soles.

Distant sounds reach my ears, replacing the long gone cracking of the transformation. The flapping of some nocturnal bird. The thud of an insect hitting the windows. The coming and going of cars and the like in the roads below. The occasional humming of the phone’s vibration. Sorry, I am not available, call again later.

My thoughts wander from one thing to the other in introspection.

Distant lights that, thanks to some lucky break, bounce from one glass to another until hitting my ceiling, putting up momentary light shows that I won’t see. I need to fix that next time. What pose could I be fitting? 

I was marble for the first time, striking a classical statue pose. One arm covering my bust and the other hand my crotch; but I spent hours looking at my reflection in the mirror. What material should I become?

This has a price though… which leads me to the current situation of my life, pondering whether I am satisfied with it or not. Not a pleasant thought, but one that I constantly ignore in the daily routine. If I could, would I change anything about it?

And talking about change, I go back to my transformation, to the origin of the potion, and how I first found out about it. Can’t quite recall how it was. A plain and boring web, maybe? Or word of mouth? I do know one woman that is into this too… Not that it matters, but both sound right. And I’ll be glad to make use of the delightful services she provides me.

Now that I think about it, I cannot guess how much time it has gone by. Hours? Mere minutes? It doesn’t matter. This is time I have for myself.

I would sigh in content if I could, but statues do not. It would be nice to remain like this, looking good in a nice pose. Free of worries, stress and responsibilities. The idea of being on display is not as attractive though, would rather remain in a nice and quiet spot. The effect of the potion will wear off eventually, but until then, I am content to remain like this.