A step ahead of me all the way, Kyra led me through our apartment to the living room. She wore a dark green velvety dress that accentuated all of her curves as enticingly as possible, emphasising her knockout figure and cavernous cleavage without actually revealing anything (yet). She strutted with supreme self-confidence, her swaying hips drawing the eye even more. (You may think me biased in my description of my gorgeous girlfriend, but if you saw her, your jaw would be on the floor too.)

I scurried along meekly behind her, stark naked, my skinny, androgynous form on full display. My head was slightly bowed, my cheeks bright red. No-one was even here yet, and I was already utterly mortified by how exposed I was - and by the clear contrast between Kyra’s voluptuous curves and my flat chest and pancake ass. It was almost as if, by making me bare all while she stayed clothed, Kyra was saying it didn’t matter if I was on show, because unlike her, I had nothing to show.

To be clear, I consented to this humiliation one hundred per cent, because it made me incredibly wet. Which was plainly visible right now - and that only added to my shame, which added to my arousal, and so on and so on...

Besides, I could always console myself that by the time anyone got here, I’d be beyond caring what they thought of my body.

The sofas had been pushed back to the walls, leaving a wide open space in the centre of the living room. Kyra led me there and released my hand, and without waiting to be told, I dropped onto all fours.

There was a wall-length mirror across the room, directly in my line of sight, giving me a full view of myself and my surroundings. This was by design, of course. Kyra didn’t want me to miss a moment of what was about to transpire... and neither did I.

Using my reflection to guide me, I arched my back and placed my legs as wide apart as they would go, spreading my holes and raising them in the air, making them as open and accessible as I could. It was an uncomfortable position to hold, but I didn’t mind. I knew I wouldn’t have to feel the discomfort for very long.

Kyra crouched close in front of me, a fond smile spread across her face. “Ready, my love?”

“Uh huh,” I murmured, smiling a little bashfully at her.

“Proud of you,” she sighed softly, reaching out and running her hands through my short brunette bob, scritching behind my ears. I shivered ecstatically, but held my pose. “Such a brave girl. Such a pretty decoration. Such a sexy centrepiece...”

My body thrummed with pride and pleasure. This wasn’t the first time we’d done this, but Kyra always showed her appreciation beforehand - not to mention afterwards.

Her hand withdrew, and she gave me a big grin. “See you in twelve hours, Sydney.”

“See you tomorrow,” I giggled. “Hope you all enjoy me...”

“Oh, I’m certain we will...”

Angling my head up a little bit, I opened my mouth as wide as I could, letting my tongue hang out over my bottom lip. That was the last action I took before Kyra lifted her inner eyelids, unleashing a wave of paralysing magic that turned my skinny little body into cold stone.

She stood up and stepped away, giving me a last pat on the head. Then she trotted off to make final preparations for the party, leaving the stone effigy that used to be her girlfriend in the middle of the living room.

Some time passed, with Sydney the statue sitting still in silence. Eventually, noise reached my petrified ears - the sound of our party guests filing into the apartment, chatting and laughing and greeting their host in delight. Once they reached the living room, the lewd centrepiece got lots of compliments - though none of them were directly addressed to me, as they all knew I was effectively absent right now. Instead, Kyra was praised for how she’d prepared and positioned me, sculpting me into such a superb sexual pose. Kyra happily took the credit for the way I’d painstakingly positioned myself, which was fair enough. After all, how could I take the credit? I was the art, not the artist.

It wasn’t long before my first customer stepped up - Dane, a demon friend of ours from New Hampshire. He admired me for a little while, tracing a finger over my petrified tongue, reaching under my torso to tweak my granite nipples, and running a palm over my smooth buttocks. Soon enough, the sight of me in this state stirred his lust to the point where he stripped off, dumping his clothes on my back.

Stepping behind me, he started inching his stiff prick into my rear crevice. Whether he was entering my cunt or my butthole, I couldn’t tell, nor could I care.

“Nnk, tight... Oh, I’m so hard right now,” he moaned as he started to gently thrust inside me. Then he guffawed suddenly. “You know the feeling, huh, Syd?” he chortled, giving my stone ass a playful slap.

Yeah, there’s always one.

It wasn’t long before he was shifting into full demon form, all rippling muscles and toughened scarlet skin, so his dick could endure ploughing a concrete cunt with more vigour. Demons have legendary stamina, and despite his ardour, he decided not to fill me up, instead pulling out still fully hard and then ambling away to have some hors d’oeuvres. Dane does enjoy a nice cheese platter.

I was incapable of feeling disappointment at the demon’s departure. Besides, I had other takers soon enough. Graciella, a werewolf who went to college with Kyra, approached me with a sadistic smile on her face and yanked her jeans down. Had I been able to anticipate anything, I might’ve expected her to piss on me, marking my statue self as her territory. (It wouldn’t have been the first time.)

But since we were indoors, and she did have some respect for our property, she instead got on all fours herself, lined her hairy cunt up with one of my legs, and proceeded to hump me to completion. With that done, she stood up, pulled her pants back up, and stalked away without sparing me another glance - though my stone eyes caught a glimpse of her satisfied smirk in the mirror.

Not everyone used me, used me. It was quite a lengthy party, and the guests weren’t in the mood to fuck a free-use sculpture all the time. (Astonishing, right?!) Sometimes they just stood near me and chatted, often sitting down on my back. Turns out, I made a decent enough bench.

They even played spin the bottle around me - they set the bottle on the carpet beneath me, spun it around, and then the two lucky winners sat on my back and made out, one straddling my waist, the other mounting my shoulders with their ass resting against the back of my head.

As the night wore on, and the guests gradually grew even more uninhibited and wanton, more and more of them made use of the convenient centrepiece. Marta, a naiad, perched on my back while her girlfriend Arielle, a succubus, ate her out. Marta’s climax literally dissolved her, causing her to lose control of her body’s integrity and burst apart with a huge splash, pouring off my stone skin and onto the carpet below. Arielle dissolved too, though only figuratively, as her girlfriend’s ecstasy overloaded her and left her in a satisfied sprawl nearby. Gradually the naiad pulled herself together, her droplets draining out of the carpet and recombining into her reformed body - though her translucent blue form now had a slight brownish tint, having inadvertently picked up some spilt beer from the spinning bottle. She snuggled into her demonic girlfriend’s embrace on the floor, giggling with post-coital, tipsy bliss.

Dane came back for more eventually, this time filling my frozen throat with his satanic seed. Plenty of others came in or on me throughout the night, leaving my cold hard exterior sticky with fluids, my nooks and crannies oozing. None of it would matter in the morning - Kyra always made sure to thoroughly clean me, scrubbing every stain from my stone surface, before I reverted to human form.

The attention was quite affirming, to be honest, standing as a counterpoint to my earlier critiques of my appearance. How could I have a low opinion of my body, when it was so popular with our party guests? I may not be the curviest girl, but it didn’t matter. I didn’t need a huge rack, thick thighs or a shapely behind. Without those womanly attributes, I still had a perfectly good body, and a perfectly useful set of holes, and those were all I needed for my friends to fervently fuck my frozen body throughout the night.

This all came to me in hindsight, of course. During the party, in my petrified state, not a thought flickered through my mind at any point. My neurons were paralysed, my wet human brain turned into a hunk of rock inside a similarly stone shell. I was no longer Sydney, no longer a person, no longer human. I’d left the building, and what remained was a statue - a replica of me, nothing more.

Yet there must have been some lingering part of me, my soul or consciousness or whatever. I was still aware of my surroundings. I could still see and hear, even if I couldn’t think about what I saw and heard.

How else could I remember this? How else could I know how much I revelled in it...?

At last, the party wound down. Those who were going home went, while Marta and Arielle, whose flight back to Vermont wasn’t until the morning, withdrew to the guest bedroom. Graciella, who was in town for another two days, headed off to my and Kyra’s bed, which she and my girlfriend were sharing tonight. No doubt they’d be reliving their college days in my absence, taking turns topping one another and frenziedly fucking until one of the bestial mythics emerged supreme (or both fell asleep from exhaustion). It was even odds that I’d find a statue of a werewolf in my bed tomorrow morning.

Kyra was the last to leave, trying to tidy up a little before she called it a night (though we’d clean up properly together tomorrow). She didn’t wash me down yet, knowing it’d be easier to wait until it all dried off.

She came to stand in front of me, blocking my view of the mirror, and parted the folds of her dress to expose her slick, delectable pussy, waving it before my fixed ahegao-ing face. “You were such a good cum dump tonight, Syd,” she cooed. “You’ve earned such a reward...”

She inched closer until her wet lips lightly kissed the tip of my upturned nose. “When you get back,” she sniggered, backing away a couple of steps and leaning down to kiss the exact same spot with her other pair of lips. “Good night, my good little centrepiece.”

Sauntering over to the door, she turned off the light and left the room, leaving her statue alone in the dark, rigid and mindless and dripping our friends’ cum on the floor.