Hsa 131 Idol Of Flesh

A nineteen year old in an antique shop caused a lot of eyebrows to raise, particularly from the staff. One slim shadow followed Luca around from the moment he stepped inside. The young woman offered a polite, but insistently firm offer of assistance in finding a gift. Luca declined. He wanted to browse which he assumed the girl interpreted as wanting to steal in private. It didn't matter, Luca was used to it.

His father took him to antique shops and flea markets as a boy. Being back in the slightly stale smell of a shop brought back memories of Luca's father. Some places had the faint hint of mold or rot, but not this one. Arcadian Exquisites maintained an immaculate reputation. Their shop smelled of polish and clean, old metals. The aisles packed together tightly, boasting shelves filled with strange collections of objects out of time -- watches, old tools, sets of silverware sorted by silversmith, stacks of books, sextants, ships in bottles, slightly faded paintings in desperate need of a new frame, glass jars filled with beads or faux jewelry, and thousands of other bizarre old trinkets.

Luca learned an appreciation for the old from his father, Petrov. Originally, he'd liked going along to try and find old baseball cards or comic books. As he grew up, the trips evolved into a hunt for an unnamed treasure which only his father could recognize. Petrov liked to collect, but according to Luca's mother, Petrov lacked a discerning eye. Often they brought home someone else's garbage which Petrov promised to refurbish into a family treasure, resulting in a garage which looked very similar to the shops they visited together. Over time, Luca learned the method of his father's madness. The things Petrov found did have value, but needed a little care to bring out their proper charm. Petrov, tragically, lacked the time to solve these issues.

When Petrov died, Luca devoted his time to restoring all his father's artifacts, ultimately selling many of them back to the antiques collectors at a significant profit. He kept his father's favorite pieces, though, adding them to the growing collection scattered around the family's sizable house. As the supply ran low, Luca started to go shopping again, searching out unique pieces to give the special treatment. Antiques shops tended to move items wholesale and as is. Arcadian Exquisites sat on the higher end of this spectrum, but they had a touch of Petrov's problem, buying things which might be valuable and failing to allot time to returning their value.

Luca ignored the stalking employee as she failed spectacularly at being discreet. He moved deftly through the crowded aisles looking over the oddments with a trained eye. His father taught him to know it when he saw it, which he never exactly understood. It seemed to work, though. He'd flipped a dozen of his own selections in the past few months. Most of the things on the shelves could be safely sold for scrap. Few people even bothered to look at these selections, anyway. The store's foot traffic concentrated on the opposite side where the furniture, lamps, standing clocks, and other larger pieces collected dust. So few of the visitors wanted to pay the price of a new piano for a very old piano.

Luca stopped. He'd wandered into a section of small garden statues. From his cursory glance, he guessed most of them originated in the 1800s, but one looked out of place. Gently, he parted the pair of gnomes and a collection of small foxes blocking his view. He frowned. The others all had a small sticker attached to them, denoting the price. The one catching his eye did not. A fine layer of dust sat on top of the red ceramic. Carefully, Luca pulled it from the rear of the shelf and held it in his hand.

Fertility statue. Don't see those much in Victorian era garden ornamentation.

The statue depicted a woman with a rotund body, large breasts, and a flared bottom. The face was not detailed other than displaying a wide smile. She wore no clothes, and her genitalia seemed to be the most detailed thing about the piece. Luca rolled it over in his hand, feeling a strange attachment to the object as his curiosity grew.

He had no formal training in the identification of artifacts, but he could tell the mass produced things from something truly old.

This is very old,

he thought.

Much older than anything else in this room.

Along the sides, he could see the faded stain of paint. Once upon a time, the idol had been lavished in gold and red, perhaps gifted from one woman to another to increase the chance of conception. A silly idea which Luca did not find silly at all while holding the idol. Turning it over once again, he noticed something etched along the small woman's inner thigh. The print was small and in Cyrillic.

"It says, 'forgive me, please, I am sorry.'" The woman who had been stalking Luca since he entered dropped her pretense and approached. "I've always found that piece to be so very peculiar. Some times, I think I'm the only person who even sees it." She offered her hand, pale with red fingernails. "I'm Rachel. Haven't I seen you here before?"

Luca sized up the woman quickly. She looked a few years older than him. Taller than him as well, with a vibrant smile and a bob of brown hair. "Possibly. I've been in a few times. Used to visit with my father. Petrov Vasilitch. I'm Luca Vasilitch."

"Oh! Yes, Mr. Vasilitch. We heard about his passing. I'm very sorry."

Luca nodded. He didn't like lingering on thoughts of his father. "Thank you. He would have loved to be remembered." He cleared his throat and turned his attention back to the statue. "I'm a little embarrassed, actually. I never learned much of my father's language, especially the written kind. I could list off some curse words while drinking vodka, though."

Rachel's smile brightened. "You like it then? It is a curiosity. One which I've spent an inordinate amount of time sussing out. We acquired it in 1980 from an estate sale. Russian military fellow, defected to the states in the sixties. He had a large collection of war memorabilia. I've asked dad about when he collected it, but he says he didn't find anything out of the ordinary about the man."

"Your dad? Are you Rachel Leone? Holy shit, we've met before. My dad came by selling some box of junk, and you kept me entertained with Monopoly for two hours."

"Oh, right! I remember you. You used to be smaller," she grinned.

A long, awkward pause passed during which they each recognized the bizarre passage of time and circumstance which brought them back together. During this pause, Luca grew increasingly conscious of holding a statue which exaggerated every sexual aspect of the woman it depicted. Worse still, errant thoughts pushed forcefully into his mind as he looked at Rachel's lithe frame and petite form. His thoughts drew forth an image of the young woman remade with a body more similar to the statue, one of cushioned, enticing flesh. He shook his head and put down the statue, a little alarmed at himself. "What else do you know about it?"

Her head tilted slightly. "The boring stuff or the interesting stuff? Maybe one first, then the other. We appraised it, hoping we'd stumbled across something truly ancient. But no, it's another knockoff like so many other things here. Doesn't mean it isn't valuable of course, but its not the sister statue of the Venus of Willendorf. It does seem to be modeled after artifacts found in southern Europe, but strangely enough our appraiser dated it to the mid 1700s, well before most similar artifacts would be 'officially' discovered. Not to say, of course, that the idea of fertility statues wasn't still around, but it does bear a strange resemblance."

"And the boring stuff?" Luca asked.

"You're cute," she said, causing a bloom of warmth in Luca's body. "We had it X-rayed as well as part of our research. Sometimes these sorts of statues are used as repositories for little messages. Not in this case, but the statue still holds a secret. Six garnet bars which make up a small skeleton. The clay is molded around them, perhaps by whomever wrote that inscription. We believe they're garnet anyway, based on the composition. We didn't want to break it open."

"The jewels must have some value though? Could the statue have been made to hide them?"

Rachel shrugged. "Perhaps. I still haven't reached the strange thing, though. This statue can move."

"Like come to life and walk around?" Luca said with a smirk, which faded when he saw the seriousness in Rachel's eyes.

"At first, I thought customers would pick it up and move it from place to place. It's common for smaller stock items to traverse the store like that. Once we knew what was inside it, we didn't want it walking off. I started locking it up in the jewelry cabinets with the other gaudy junk we sell. Yet, still it managed to find its way around the store. I thought dad or one of the other employees made a game of it, trying to spook me into believing it was haunted like they did when I was a girl. When I asked them, though, they had no idea what I was talking about. When I did find the statue again, I confronted my father. He'd bought it, had the appraisal done, and agreed with me it should be locked up. When I showed it to him, though, it was like he'd seen it for the first time. Made me worry he'd developed dementia or something, until I repeated it with the others on staff. No one would admit to ever seeing that statue before."

"Still a game, though, right? You can admire their commitment."

Rachel moved closer to him, leaning in to speak quietly. "Three weeks ago, I took the statue out of the store. I went to the bank, put it in a safety deposit box, and knew without a doubt I'd see it again. And here it is."

Luca raised an eyebrow at her. "Not sure advertising a statue as magically disappearing is the best way of selling it."

"Take it," she said. "Free of charge. If I'm right, it winds up back here anyway. If I'm wrong, then at least we're rid of the damn thing."

"But...it has to be worth something."

"It's worth getting rid of, I think." All the mirth had left her expression. "I've never understood the inscription, but I don't like it. Was it a gift sent with an apology? Was it an apology for making the damn thing in the the first place? The inscription wasn't cast with the rest of the statue, but made years later. What was the old man apologizing for?"

Luca picked the statue up again. It felt warm in his hand. The strange thoughts returned to his mind instantly. "Alright then, I'll take it. But on one condition. You give me your number."

"For business?" she asked.

"Nope."

***

Luca walked back to his apartment with the statue tucked into his pocket. His thoughts lingered on Rachel. After she gave him her number, they spent a long while browsing the rest of the shop, sharing each other's knowledge of the antiques trade. She even introduced Luca to her father, which was made rather awkward by Luca's intrusive thoughts of throwing Rachel over the counter and shoving his cock in her ass, an act he'd never even considered prior to that afternoon. He attributed these insistent fantasies on a peculiar mood and nothing more. He did notice the thoughts grew stronger when he touched the statue directly. Luca was not a fool, but such strange things are difficult to comprehend even when they seem plain. To Luca, he would have preferred to believe a tumor pressed on his brain causing a warping of his thought process rather than accept belief in a magical statue.

Arriving home, he put it on a small shelf in his small living room and tried to return to the other diversions of his life. He failed at this entirely. At work, his thoughts would turn to the statue and to Rachel. When he dreamed, he would often be in a room with the statue and nothing else. Other times, he would be alone with Rachel. At first, during these thoughts, he would find the sight of her alluring. He admired the curve of her neck and the slender form of her body. Over the passing days, this image soured. Returning from work one day, he stopped at a magazine stand and bought a copy of each porno the man had tucked behind the counter. He looked at each woman with the same thoughts.

Too small. Too thin.

Every single woman in the magazines seemed to want the narrowest waist possible. Even the ones advertised as busty looked inadequate to him. In his dreams, Rachel no longer appeared as an alluring willowy vixen, but as a hollow, brittle woman who might cut him if he touched her.

Luca believed he was going mad, a strange thing to think of one's self, but the only real explanation for how little control he had over his thoughts. Or his body for that matter. It was his third time masturbating while staring at the statue before he realized he'd done it twice before. Even that occasion threatened to slip away into the aether like a dream. After he cleaned up, he sat and considered calling a doctor or a friend for help. He tried to consider what would drive him to such erratic and obscene behavior. Grief, perhaps. Derangement from disease seemed more likely. Perhaps the statue itself was the source, contaminated by some fungal spores which could induce mania.

He threw it out, down the garbage shaft of his apartment.

It came back the next day. Luca checked his clothes for the scent of garbage, believing he might have been lured to find the statue in a strange trance. He found nothing. For all he could determine, the statue simply popped back onto his shelf. Another week passed. He called in sick to work when walking became problematic. He spent every waking hour staring at the statue. It wouldn't let him go, he knew. It wanted something, and it made him want the same thing. He decided to call Rachel.

***

"Come in. Come in, please," Luca said. The sight of her pained him. She looked jagged, moved with the grace of a rolling cube, and spoke with a cutting tone. "It's there, on the shelf. Can you take it back?"

Rachel frowned at him. The young man looked much changed from the last time she'd seen him. His dapper sense of style had lapsed into an unkempt mess of sweatpants and an oversized novelty t-shirt. His skin had taken on a waxy complexion and dark circles surrounded his eyes. He moved with a peculiar hunch to his posture. "Take it back? Did you call me only to talk about the statue some more? I thought we were to have dinner."

Luca nodded. "Lies. I lied. I wanted you to come and take it back." He admitted his deception without shame. He'd cajoled and flirted with Rachel for several days before asking her over for dinner. He thought she liked him, or the idea he'd conjured. None of that mattered now. He only cared about the statue.

She stood between him and it with her mouth slightly agape. For Rachel, it was a moment of accounting each slight ever sent against her for the whole of her life to determine whether she'd ever been remotely as insulted. Rather than allow herself further embarrassment, she decided to take back the statue and be done with the lunatic gazing at her with eyes full of fear. She reached over to the shelf and snatched up the statue, preparing to storm out and readying a final barb to leave some wound on Luca for her trouble. Instead, the moment she touched the statue, she dropped it. Her hand seared with pain. She looked to Luca for help, but his face contorted from fear into an astonished pleasure.

"I'm sorry," he said. "It wanted you. I don't know why, but it kept whispering your name to me. Every night while I slept or tried to sleep. Every day when I rubbed my cock in front of it. It forced you into my mind, but not this you. A better you."

Rachel's heart fluttered with panic. Luca stood between her and the door. The room seemed void of anything other than a small couch and the statue. Slowly, she realized all the other furniture had been taken away. She could see the outline of where a television had sat, the small indentations where other chairs had pressed into the carpet, and the lighter spots of the carpet which had long been covered by tables or other furniture. She wanted a weapon or at least something to defend herself, but short of throwing a couch at Luca, she had no options. "Luca, you're not well. We can call someone. We can --"

"You shouldn't have given it to me," he said, a note of true remorse in his voice.

A shot of white hot pain ran up Rachel's arm from where she'd touched the statue. The sensation hit her shoulder and splintered, crossing over every inch of her body with a jarring sting. It felt as though coils of hot wire wrapped around her bones, pulling tight and searing. She wanted to scream, but the noise stopped in her throat, coming out as a choking gurgle as she dropped to her knees. She looked up at Luca, hoping her misery would drive him to some level of compassion. Instead, he undressed. As he pulled away his clothes, she understood what had changed about his posture. Two weeks earlier, he'd been a fit, but scrawny young man. As the shirt came away, she saw a body chiseled out of stone, bulging with muscle and sinew from shoulder to waist. As he pulled down the pants, her urge to scream returned. Between his legs hung a cock and balls impossible in size. The throbbing pole of flesh began to rise before her, standing out from his small, if muscular, body. She guessed it to be a foot wide in circumference, and at least four feet long in length. From its fat head, a stream of clear precum oozed, running along the underside to drip down over the basketball sized testicles crammed uncomfortably between his legs.

Luca hunched his body forward to wrap his arms around his gargantuan cock, using his coiled arms to jerk himself off to little effect. "Look what it did to me," he moaned. "It won't stop growing. No matter what I do. It wouldn't stop until it had you. It promised to let me go if I gave it to you."

All at once the feeling in her body jerked to her center. She entertained a brief thought that it might all end. Instead, the heat bloomed out again, warm and pleasant. As it moved across her skin, her body started to grow. Her breasts pressed against her blouse, stretching it to its limit. Her ass and thighs grew thicker, causing the fabric of her pants to cut into her skin. Her shoes snapped apart first. The small straps of her heels gave way as her ankle and foot expanded. The seam along the side of her pants gave away next, tearing with a loud rip as her flesh tumbled forth. The growing pressure threatened to cut off her breath. She pulled at the shirt and bra with growing desperation until the fabric ripped on its own. Her breasts burst forth, already three times their original size.

Rachel looked at her changing body with confused horror. Her tiny waist grew into a wide stomach. Stretching out her legs, she flexed muscular thighs underneath a thick layer of plump flesh. Spreading her knees apart, she looked down at naked, puffy pussy lips glistening with arousal. Only then did she realize how much she longed to be fucked. New thoughts fumbled into her mind. Panic faded into lust, and distress melded into pleasure. She stretched her arms, admiring her new wingspan as her enormous tits continued to grow. She rolled to her side, comparing herself to the couch and realized she would pass as a giant. Already, she dwarfed the furniture. The ceiling grew perilously close.

She heard a pathetic grunting noise coming from near her feet. Rachel rolled to her back and looked down between her thighs. Luca pressed himself back against the wall, coveting the shrinking amount of free space in the apartment. Before him, he could see the glorious pussy of a giantess. Her slit glistened from top to bottom with puffy lips obscuring her foot wide entrance. One designed, both of them realized, specifically for Luca's obscene cock.