For you, Tessa, I have posted chapter 2-4. Do keep in mind that I have not proofed, edited or otherwise modified these from their original form. Much of it is ideas waiting to be better fleshed after I finish the tale.

I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter 2


“Jerry,” Beatrice began, cozying into a large, velvet padded chair, “how is it that you came to creating such masterpieces as these?”

“It’s a long story, my dear,” Jerry replied.

“Jerry, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Ted Dunhill. I must say that I am as curious as Beatrice about your skills, education and how you came to do what you do. Couldn’t you entreat us with a bit about yourself?”

Jerry smiled, seeing the curiosity in the eyes of all the attendees. “I am afraid that my past, indeed my beginnings and education are of little consequence. More importantly, I wish to leave the past where it is; in the firm grasp of historians and scholars.”

“A man of mystery, I see,” Beatrice mused. “I think we can all respect that. After all, we all have some rather dark secrets of our own.”

Chuckles and nodded agreements filled the room. Finally, as the moment died down, Francis stood up to gather the attention of his guests.

“Friends,” Francis began, “I’ve a surprise for you. One I think you will find quite interesting, especially as it pertains to a new form of entertainment.”

“Do tell, Francis,” said Eric, a middle aged man with close-cropped hair. “Your entertainments are always quite enjoyable, but I find it hard to believe it could be any more entertaining than any of your previous entertainments.”

“Desk,” Francis said, “Please bring in the girl.”

Desk immediately scampered to action. A few moments of anticipatory silence passed before Desk returned, pushing a rolling platform on which rested an “X” shaped crucifix adorned with a gagged and naked girl.

“Exquisite,” Beatrice exclaimed. “What tortures have you planned for her? Or are we free to torture her as we like?”

“Ah, I have something far different in mind,” Francis replied. “You see, this creature is to be my next piece of living art. My trouble is that my imagination is a bit lacking. I thought you all might provide me with some ideas.”

The girl was clearly frightened. Tears, long dried, stained her perfect, white skin. Her breathing was quick and shallow, occasionally shuddering within the throws of her recent crying.

“Let me introduce you to everyone, my dear,” Francis said to the girl. Then, gesturing to each guest, he introduced the girl to his company. “First, our guest of honor. His name is Jerry O’Connell. You will come to know him quite well. To your immediate left is Benjamin, and sitting beside him is Beatrice. To her right is Ted, Frank, Roger, Mia, Donald, Terrence, James and, finally, Eric.”

The girl’s eyes met each of his guest’s eyes, fearing their intent, yet hopeful one might aid in her release. When, finally, the introductions were complete, her eyes came to rest on the creature trapped within the web of metal on Francis’ wall. Eyes wide, she stared, wondering if the creature was real.

“Ah, so you admire her too?” Francis said, noticing her fascination. “She was once a girl, just as you are now.. Her name is ‘Art’, though it was once Lindsey.”

Turning her to the left, he introduced her to the apparent statue. “The nymph was once a girl named Adriana. She is now called ‘Statue’. Quite beautiful, isn’t she?”

Turning the girl again, he pointed to a tall marble colored girl. “That is ‘Coatrack’. You may notice the hooks jutting from her breasts. Otherwise she would just be another statue.”

Tears began anew as Francis turned the frightened girl to face the crowd again.

“Sweetheart, I am going to remove your gag, I know it is uncomfortable. I do hope you will have the courtesy not to scream,” Francis said. “I don’t want to gag you again.”

“They aren’t real are they?” the girl asked, after the gag’s removal. “It isn’t possible. Is it?”

“Desk,” Francis commanded. “Secure the door, please.

Again, Desk scampered to fulfill her orders, locking the heavy door before bringing the key to Francis.

“I will let you see for yourself,” he said to the crucified girl, releasing her from her bondage.

Upon release the girl bolted for the door. Finding it locked, she struggled; refusing to believe it was so. Finally, understanding the futility of her situation, she stopped and looked back at the on looking crowd. Her blue eyes burned out beneath her jet black hair as she stared, terrible fear apparent to all.

All eyes were upon the girl, intently studying her every motion, waiting for her to discover what she must. Finally, after crossing eyes, once again, with each member of the sadistic crowd, she approached the coat rack. Briefly, her hands moved to cover her suddenly remembered nakedness; only to reach out as she neared the terrible object before her.

“It’s not real,” she said, refusing to believe the truth of Francis’ words. “It’s not.”

None replied to the girl, entranced in the moment. Instead, they merely watched the girl as she came to stand before the living coat rack.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, but it’s not real!” she exclaimed, her voice nasal from her crying.

Turning back to the thing before her, she reached out to touch it. It was warm, not cold as she imagined it would be. A quick glance back at her captor brought more defiant words.

“I told you,” she said, before looking back to see the coat racks bright green eyes staring back at her.

“Oh God,” she muttered, backing away from the coat rack. “No, no, no, no no.”

Eyes wide and mouth agape, she turned to Francis’ guests, unable to voice more than she had. Her breath became ragged and shallow and she sank to the floor, staring at nothing. Finally, she quieted and pulled her knees to her chest, silently rocking back and forth. For the next several minutes she sat, oblivious to all, rocking and crying. Finally, she looked up, wet faced and frightened.

“They’re real…all of them, aren’t they?” she said. “You weren’t lying, were you?”

Francis smiled, walking slowly to where she sat. He knelt down and stroked her long hair. She looked at him, still dazed.

“Why?” she asked. “Why would you do that?”

“Your name is Monique, isn’t it?” Francis asked the girl. “Come with me, Monique. Let me show you true beauty.”

Taking her hand, Francis helped her gain her feet. Weak of knee, she allowed him to guide her to where the girl hung on the wall.

“Please,” Monique whispered, pulling weakly, to free herself from Francis’ grasp.

“You see, this is more than she would ever be,” Francis whispered. “Touch her.”

“She looks like a painting,” Monique breathed, her eyes taking in the entirety of the piece before her.

“So she is,” Francis said. “She is a painting. Now, touch her.”

Monique looked to Francis and then to the girl on the wall. Nodding her head, she whispered, “I can’t.”

“That’s all right, Monique. Watch,” he told her.

Francis reached out to the girl on the wall and quickly trailed his finger along her rib cage. She jerked from the startling stimulation, a whispered scream escaping her lips.

“Oh God!” Monique cried out. “Please, please, please. Let me go. Just let me go. I won’t tell anyone. Please…”

The eyes of the on looking crowd never wavered. The terror and emotional strain on the girl was far too great to pry their eyes from. So they sat, silent and watchful, breathing in shallow and controlled breaths, not wanting to disturb the fascinating scene that played out before them.

“It’s all right, Monique,” Francis cooed. “You’ll pass out if you keep this up. Take a breath. Don’t worry, sweetheart, there is only one more piece to show you.

She screamed, suddenly, begging and struggling against Francis as he pulled her towards the statue. He pulled the girl against him, holding her small form pressed to his chest, cooing into her ear. Finally, she calmed enough to see what he wished to show her. So, kneeling down with his charge, he displayed to her the statue.

“You see, I wanted a statue that was hideous and beautiful, pornographic and erotic,” he told her. “I wanted it to be a study in contrasts. What could fit those better than a nymph making love to monstrous creatures?”

Monique said nothing, her eyes locked unknowingly on the contrasting textures of the statue. The nymph, lovely and pleasing to the eye, appeared to be of polished marble, while the satyrs ghastly appearance seemed more roughly hewn. So, while Francis’ spoke, she remained steady on the transfixing contrast between the beauty and the beasts.

“Finally,” Francis continued, “I wanted to find a contrast between the fanciful and the horrifying. I think I have accomplished that here.”

As his last word left his lips, he leaned towards the nymph’s ear. Expected as it was, Monique recoiled at the statue’s opened eyes. After a moment of speechless fright, she passed out.

“It seems she is a bit of a delicate sort,” Francis muttered, as he lifted the small girl into his arms.

“Astonishingly awful.”

“I assume you meant that in a positive way, Mia,” Francis said as he placed his charge at the room’s center.

“Beyond positive, Francis,” Mia responded, her voice breathy. “Already, you have surpassed…I’ve never seen suffering quite like this.”

Francis winked at the woman, pleased to have her approval. Then, looking around the room, he observed his comrades discussing the events they had just witnessed, listening as best he could, hearing only positive comments.

Hideous. Wonderful, Erotic, Sadist. Those are just some of the words I can describe this night with, Francis,” Beatrice gushed. “I know you have more planned, my boy. Don’t keep us waiting too long.”

“Worry not. The night’s activities have just begun,” he told her.



Chapter 3


Alone and naked, the girl sat, arms wrapped around her knees. A circle of bright light surrounded her, leaving the rest of the room a dull and unfocussed gray. Around her, the voices of her tormentors spoke in low tones, waiting for Francis to announce his plans.

“Friends,” he started. “The night is still young. At least younger than we are, and I have a plan that veers from the beaten path.

“We do like to beat the path,” Eric chuckled, gaining the approved laughter of all.

“Our standard procedures are different than what I have planned,” Francis continued. “Usually, we act. Tonight, we plan.”

“I’m not sure we follow you,” Beatrice said.

“Patience, Beatrice,” Francis said. “Desk, see to the girl.”

The girl watched, detached from her reality, as Desk appeared within the circle of light. Whispers of motion and the click of locks were the only sounds heard as Desk secured leather cuffs to the girl’s extremities. After completing her task, Desk departed the light, leaving the girl bound as she had been; seated and with all four appendages locked together.

For many moments the room was silent. All eyes were on the girl who was inspecting her bondage in a surprisingly calm manner. Finally, as the girl ceased her inspection, she sat her head on her knees gave over to the strange serenity that encompassed her.

“This girl, Monique, is to be the next piece in my collection,” Francis said, his tone soft and steady. “As you have seen, I have a painting, a statue, a coat rack and a desk. These are the things I have had commissioned. Unfortunately, I have run a bit dry on ideas. Tonight, in the presence of the man who is the creator of so many fine pieces, we will discuss what this girl is to become.”

“You are an evil one, my boy,” Beatrice hissed.

“Thank you,” Francis said. “Now, it is time we commenced with our evening.”

Quiet settled upon the room as each guest studied the girl, watching as Francis’ words sank in. Amidst the silence, the girl began to get fidgety, her hands rubbing the bindings that held her. Sweat beaded on her skin, contrasting with the goose bumps that rose from her flesh. Tears welled up in her eyes, falling to her knees and running down her legs as fear made its way back into her reality.

“Please…” she whispered, softly sobbing.

“Tell us Jerry,” Mia began, “how it is that the statue is possible? It will help us in our task for the evening if we better know how such things are made.”

“In the case of these pieces, each was subjected to permanent hair removal,” Jerry began. “After that we processed them internally, removing unnecessary internal workings, or those that might cause difficulties. They are sterilized, as you probably surmised, though to a more thorough degree than you may have envisioned.”

“Interesting,” Eric said. “Do continue.”

“Their waste functions are entirely routed to a reservoir above a synthetic colon,” Jerry said. “A pressure valve holds the waste in the reservoir until the disposal system is in place or until forced open by internal pressure.”

Monique listened intently to Jerry’s monologue, horrified by what she heard. Nervously, she fidgeted with the cuffs that held her fast, hoping she could discover a way to escape.

“The statue and the coat rack,” Jerry continued, “are slightly more modified. Each of these has been implanted with devices that block voluntary muscle control, while inducing a state of constant contraction. Essentially, this leaves them in a state of paralysis while ensuring there is no atrophy. Of course, not every muscle, or group of muscles, is immobilized. Such would cause death.”

“I imagine this is a painstaking process,” Mia said.

“Initially, yes. However, we have progressed in leaps and bounds. The immobilization process is handled through mechanical means, now,” Jerry answered.

“Why?” Monique whispered. “Why would you do that? Why?”

Silence gripped the room, once again as they watched and listened to the girl’s pleas. Shaking and staring up into the light, she cried, silently mumbling to the room.

“Why?” she demanded of them, her voice suddenly loud and filled with anger. “How could you do that?”

They watched quietly, her actions thrilling them. Only when she put her head down to her knees did anyone speak.

“Tell them about their skin,” Francis prodded.

“Originally, I developed it to aid the recovery of burn victims,” Jerry told them. “Events prevented this application, though I did manage to find another use for it.”

“I don’t understand how it can be permanent, though,” Mia said. “Skin continually breaks down and regenerates.”

Jerry leaned forward, the light bringing ominous shadows to his face, irritated at the thoughtless question. “Worry not, my dear. It sweats, it breathes. Old skin is passed through as it breaks down. I know what I am doing.”

Mia stared at the man’s intense and shadowed face, aware of his irritation. A chill ran up her spine, suddenly fearful of the man.

“I am sort if I offended you, Jerry,” she said. “Please accept my apology.”

“Accepted, my dear.”

Intent stares followed Jerry as he leaned back out of the light. No one spoke, waiting and hoping Francis would break the tension in the room. But it was Beatrice who boldly broke the silence.

“What are our limitations, Jerry?” she asked. “Or should we shout out, willy-nilly, ideas?”

“Beatrice, I do not think you do anything ‘willy-nilly’,” Jerry replied. “You, my dear, appear to be as calculating as you are wise.”

“You make me blush, sir,” she said, pleased with his complement.



Chapter 4


“Do tell us, Francis. Are there any pieces we have yet to see?” Frank inquired.

“These are all that I have,” Francis said.

“Well then, we should commence with our task,” Frank replied.

Beatrice leaned forward, casting herself into the light. “Such a lovely thing, you are, Monique. So small and well formed. Do you think you would like larger breasts? You would look quite exotic with breasts twice the size of your head.”

Blinking at the cruel woman, Monique shivered. Images of herself with breasts too large to carry filled her mind, bringing tears to her eyes. “No,” she whispered.

“I’ve always wanted a mermaid,” Mia said. “But how would you make the tail?

“I imagine Jerry could fuse her legs together and cover them with his synthetic skin,” Francis suggested.

“Exactly,” Jerry said. “We have just such a project in the works. Her heels would also be removed for aesthetic reasons.”

Monique stared at her feet, listening to her inner dialogue, torn between childhood fantasy and real life horror. “I don’t want to be a mermaid,” she muttered.

“I’m sorry, dear heart, what was that?” Beatrice asked.

“I don’t want to be a mermaid,” she said.

“I don’t think it’s your choice,” Beatrice taunted. “You no longer have a choice in anything.”

“I do, you witch!” Monique hissed, anger finding its way to the surface.

Leaning close to the girl, Beatrice smiled. “Look at yourself. You are naked and bound in a room full of people who are deciding your fate. What choice do you have?”

Monique glared at the woman. “Let me go and I will show you what choice I have.”

“She would be lovely on the prow of a ship, don’t you think?” another voice asked.

“Yes,” Francis said, “she would be lovely. But I don’t have a boat.”

Chuckles rose about the room.

“I do like Beatrice idea. Breasts that are too big to carry,” Francis said. “Monique, I do think we are on our way.”

The girl looked up to where the voice came from, her eyes sad and teary.

“Haven’t you always wanted bigger breasts, dear?” Beatrice taunted. “Tell me you haven’t shaken your ass for the attentions of a man.”

“Fuck you!” the girl screamed.

“Maybe later you will get the chance to fuck me. Have you ever eaten pussy?

“You sick bitch,” she screamed at her tormentor.

Suddenly, Monique bucked towards the woman, in a futile attempt to kick her. Beatrice laughed at the struggling girl, grabbing her by the hair.

“Soon, very soon, you will be an inanimate object. Or maybe you will be an animal; a house pet or a mermaid,” Beatrice said. “Maybe a bitch to service dogs. Maybe Jerry can help you grow fur and make your face into a muzzle. How would you like that?”

Looking up from the girl, Beatrice looked towards Jerry, holding the girls head back. “What about that Jerry? Is it possible to turn her into a dog; a hairy mutt with paws and a muzzle?”

“It is quite possible,” Jerry said. “She would not be the first to undergo such a transformation.

“Give us a bark, princess,” Beatrice demanded, still holding the girl by her hair..

“No!”

“Oh, you’ll bark,” she said, reaching for the girl’s right nipple.

“Fuck you!” Monique screamed.

Nails dug into the soft flesh of the girl’s breast, pulling and gouging at her sensitive nipple.

“Bark,” Beatrice demanded again. “Show me what kind of bitch you can be!”

“No!” came the screamed response. More screams came from the girl as her right breast was tormented.

Beatrice released her nipple and slid her hand down between the girl’s legs, digging her fingers inside the girl’s sex. “You’ll bark now, bitch!”

Screams and growls of pain filled the room, as the girl was tortured until, at long last, the girl could take no more.

“Arf!”

“Again,” the woman demanded.

“Arf!” she screamed. “Arf, arf, arf. Please, stop. Please.”

“From now on, when I say ‘Speak’ you are to bark,” Beatrice commanded. “If you don’t I will rip your cunt from your body. Now, speak!”

“Arf!”

Releasing her hold, Beatrice patted the girl on her head. “Good girl.”

Falling to her side upon release from Beatrice’s cruel hands, Monique panicked. Lost in confusion and fear, her tearful crying became a fit. She shook and shuddered, issuing strange words from her mouth. Cries for her mother and father were heard as she negotiated with no one for her freedom. Then, at long last, she rested her head on the deep red carpeting and fell into an open-eyed trance.