Frozen In Her Own Park

Papers lay strewn about Hannah Fox's desk. She was a landscape architect designing a new park, and the project was far behind schedule. She had been in her office for the last several days, eating and sleeping at her desk; a report lay on her floor - stained from her cup-ramen two nights ago. Her body felt like tungsten. She had been listening to music the last few days, but her earbuds had finally capitulated shortly before sunrise, so she had to make do with the ticks of the clock. At times it was like music - she could almost hear the soft piano and the platter of rain in the lofi tracks that kept her sane in the prior days. Other times she would have punched it if she had the energy.

As Hannah's head drooped, she caught sight of the sorry state of her clothes. With a sigh she straightened her short, black pencil skirt and buttoned the white blouse she had opened earlier for the suffocating atmosphere, shifting with discomfort as the sweat that had saturated it clung to her skin. Her brunette hair hung about her shoulders, and she tried to organize it into a disheveled ponytail until she conceded that some of it would simply remain on her face.

She gazed at the report centered on her desk, opened past several pages she did not remember reading, and her eyes meandered to the first paragraph. While her eyes acknowledged the words before her, her mind was ferried along the river of her semi-conscious thoughts, "Brian and Todd got to go home last night, didn't they? That leaves me, Sarah, and Joe I think. Damn, they're too serious! At least Todd would come by and tell me his stupid jokes."

The current pulled her thoughts around a bend, "The decorating man is coming today isn't he? His name was... Mr. Miller. No, Mr. Moore. He was going to finalize what statues will be on display I think." Her fingers picked at the corner of the page and turned it, not realizing she had grabbed two. Her musings continued, "I wonder if I'll see him. Probably not, stuck here all day." A smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth, "Maybe on a bathroom trip?" Her eyes began at the top of the same page for the third time. "I'm stumbling down the hall and, what -" she sardonically chuckled to herself "- he catches me falling asleep as I walk?"

The current picked up, tugging her mind into angry, white waters, "He catches me sleepily shuffling down the hall, a hint of blue visible through the sweat in my blouse as it clings to my chest. He catches me in his muscular arms and he feels my soaked blouse as his hand rests on my chest, a forefinger on my nipple, and I lay helpless in his warm arms, seeing the bulge in his -" She froze, her eyes widened with a shock of adrenaline, and she took several deep breaths to calm her shallow breathing and racing heart. Instead, her heart got faster and she felt the warmth of her cheeks flushing as she realized her left hand had found its way to her chest and her right rested just beneath the waistband of her skirt.

With a dash of excitement and mischief, Hannah glanced at her clock. Seeing she still had three hours until her next meeting, her face flushed deeper and her right hand crawled all the way under her skirt. She stood up and stumbled away from her desk to avoid making more of a mess than there already was. Even as she walked, she could not hold herself back as her right hand dug into her panties. As soon as her back hit the wall behind her she let herself go. She masturbated furiously for twenty minutes. Her skirt hung around her knees and her green panties were as soaked as her blouse, which was open with her blue bra shoved aside. At some point her frantic movement had shaken her ponytail loose again and her messy hair hung around her, a lock on her left breast titillating her nipple. Just as she finally came, her eyes closed and her mouth open in ecstasy, she heard the creak of her doorknob turning.

A man she did not recognize stood in her door. He was tall and muscular, wearing a suit jacket over a tight white shirt, showing off his well-built pecs. His hair was pulled back into a loose bun, he had a clean, professional beard, and he wore thick-rimmed glasses. Hannah gasped when she saw him and she realized, "Oh my god this must be Mr. Moore. Mr. Moore just caught me masturbating." Instead turning away in shock or modesty, Mr. Moore simply grinned and raised his glasses.

Hannah felt his brilliant green eyes boring into her, piercing into her very soul. She tried to look away but her gaze felt drawn to him, her eyes locked to his. In a panic Hannah tried to pull her skirt up and her blouse closed, but her movements were stiff and difficult. She heard a slow crackling sound, rising in both volume and pitch. At first moving was only a little difficult, but even by the time her hand was out of her panties every movement took effort. Worse still, although Mr. Moore was standing right in front of her, Hannah could only feel more and more aroused.

Against her wishes, instead of continuing their slow movements, her hands went back into her panties and on her chest, and she masturbated right in front of Mr. Moore. Her mind was in a flurry, "Why is moving so... hard? Why does this feel.. so... good?" As the pleasure increased and the ferocity of her hands matched, Mr. Moore began undoing his bun. As he took off his hair tie, Hannah saw his hair for what it really was: snakes. While Hannah's pleasure-filled mind tried to make sense of this, Mr. Moore walked over to her.

She was about to speak, to apologize or laugh at the absurdity or to ask for him to fuck her, when he placed his hand under her chin, raised her head to face him, and kissed her deeply. The kiss was all she needed to push her over the edge. Her eyes widened and Hannah had the biggest orgasm of her life as her movement stiffened further and she could barely move. When he released the kiss, Hannah took a shaky breath with a surprised expression as pleasure wracked her body and comprehension finally dawned on her. She looked up at the snakes tumbling down his shoulders while the realization echoed in her mostly stone head, "Mr. Moore is... a... gorgon. He came here for statues... for the... park. So I must... be... his... new... sta-"

Nicholas Moore closed the office door behind him, glanced at the planner on the new marble statue's desk, and glanced at the clock on the wall behind it. "Still two and a half hours until its next meeting - plenty of time to report that I picked it to be a statue," he said, exhaling in satisfaction. He walked over to the lewd, stone figure that was once Hannah Fox and pulled out a small pocket knife. He cut the skirt and panties off the statue, leaving its bottom half naked. The bra was easier - it was barely on to begin with, and with a tug the clasp in the back snapped. The blouse was the hard part. He carefully cut along the sleeves until he could pull it off from the statue's back, slipping the fabric out from under its marble hair. He stepped closer to the frozen woman, pressing his muscular chest against its, placing one hand on its shoulder and another on its ass. He looked into its marble eyes and smirked.

Two weeks after the opening of the park, Nicholas finally had time to visit. He had intended to visit earlier, but he had been swamped with work. Various companies had been contacting him from dawn to dusk offering him interns, engineers, management, really any female employee they had to petrify. He made his way into a more secluded section of the park and finally laid eyes on a statue of a woman. It was standing upright with one hand inside it and the other on its chest. Its head was tilted upward slightly with a bewildered expression and its hair draped haphazardly over its shoulders, a small lock resting on its nipple. He found the frozen Ms. Fox exactly where he expected. It stood in a small clearing across from another statue of his, this one of a woman on its back, hands on its chest, and with its legs held open by the marble.

The small, already overgrown path he had been following made its way between the two statues before fading into the graze. He turned his gaze back to the statue of Ms. Fox and looked closer. As he did, he smelled the strong scent of cum, and upon closer inspection found stains in its mouth and on its chest. With a grin he surveyed his surroundings and, upon finding himself alone, unbuttoned his pants. He pulled out his long cock and stroked it, slowly at first but faster while staring into Ms. Fox's wide, stone eyes. As he came he made sure to aim, spattering the statue's marble face and hair with his thick cum. Ms. Fox made no reaction. It stood there masturbating, eyes staring in shock at nothing. "Of course not!" Nicholas thought with a laugh, "It's just a statue."