You take away your file from the eyelid of the woman you had slaved over before forcefully blowing the debris from your work. Leaning back, you take in the sheer perfection that you had been refining for the past week. She was so beautiful, a masterpiece that your grandfather could marvel upon, maybe even compare to his own works. You thought that your woman, the one so painstakingly crafted over the past two weeks of sheer determination, could even rival the beauty of your noble client’s wife had it not been a sort of portrait.

Your marble, lady in white was ready to sell.

As you put the file back into your apron, you hear the door to your studio open, with several sets of footsteps walking inside. Turning back, your expression immediately sours as you see it’s your quarry foreman Wilson with several other workers, all in their quarrying overalls, walking inside without any dust on their clothes. They were probably here to ask if their demand for extra pay would be met. Again. Wilson looks up at your statue before whistling in admiration. “Wowza Thomas,” he starts, “this hunka stone’s quite the beaut. This the reason you haven’t been able to accept my invitation to a meeting to discuss our pay?”

You sigh in exasperation of the repeated demand. “I told you once already Wilson, the pay you and the workers has to be what it is due to the periods between finished products these days, the few masons in the area, AND to keep everyone employed so that they all get at least SOME money. I can’t afford-”

“Well guess what!” he interrupts, “It’s not enough anymore! We’re out there working with our hands all day while YOU,” he points a fat finger in your direction, “sit in your nice little studio here and rake in profits. Well we want a bigger slice of the pie!”

“And guess what to you TOO Wilson, I TOO work with my hands all day long. This statue’s taken up every single hour of my day for the past two weeks save eating and sleeping! But unlike YOU and the workers next to you Wilson, I don’t have a family waiting at home with a hot supper ready for me with the chores all done!” You take a moment to regain your breath as Wilson and his goons continue to glare in your direction. “At least you lot have a family to fall back to. I’m all alone here. I don’t have anyone to help me out. BUT, if you want to help me bring money in, then get back to work in the quarry and get another slab of marble prepared for the next commission so I don’t have to wait for it.”

Before you can even step down from your ladder, Wilson motions wordlessly to his goons who quickly march forward and take your ladder and statue in their hands. You raise your brow in utter fear and tightly grip at your ladder as they begin to rock you and your creation back and forth. “H-hey no! Stop! This isn’t funny this statue is expensive! You could wear away the base!”

As the workers get closer and closer to pushing you down, you hear Wilson shout, “I’m sorry it had to be this way Thomas! I was really hoping you’d see eye to eye with me on this issue but I guess we have to do it the hard way!” All at once, the worker’s shove the ladder and sending you screaming to the floor, landing with a hard impact on your belly and hands. You watch helplessly as your masterpiece falls to the floor, instantly shattering to pieces, the head in particular landing just in front of you.

You shout out, “NO!” as you quickly raise yourself to your knees and grab at the now ruined statue’s head. A large chunk mouth area had been broken off from the impact, leaving only a jagged edge in its place on the now scuffed and chipped statue head.

Two entire weeks of dedication, gone in an instant due to a thug and his goons over money. You cradle the head near your torso as the thugs begin to file out, Wilson himself now lording over you. “I don’t give a shit, WHAT, you think you do that’s REMOTELY equal, but what I know is we’re gonna get paid more. And I don’t give a remote fuck about what you have do to make sure it happens, but we ARE going to get more money.” You don’t look up as Wilson walks out of your studio, closing the door behind him.

NOW you were in a horrible situation. This statue used the last block of marble you had on hand, the only way to get another one would be from your family’s quarry. But the workers were on strike until they get paid more money, but the only way to pay them would be to sculpt another statue of the client’s spouse, but you needed a block of marble to sculpt with!

You brought your hand to shield your eyes from the destruction and sighed deeply. What were you going to do? What could you sell to get the pay for the workers’ demands? You didn’t have anything that was worth nearly that much!

...Unless…

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There was a little story that ran in your family. Once upon a time, your grandfather started a family of stone masons that would carve statues out of pure marble for nobles to place in their gardens and homes. It made for good business, not too many masons were in the area, or even owned their own quarry. It was a happy life, he managed to raise kids, teach them the trade, and pass on the tradition.

Then one day, some sort of fit came over him. He locked himself in his studio and refused to speak to anyone, not even coming out to eat, drink, sleep, or anything else for that matter. It wasn’t until two days later when he left the studio to immediately relieve himself that everyone saw what he had been working on for all that time. Inside his studio were several marble statues that were so beautiful, so detailed, the family couldn’t bare to ever part with them. Your grandfather passed away soon after the marathon, the family locking the statues in a shed in the backyard. They claimed that showing off the statues would make the neighbors envious enough to want to steal, or even destroy them, if they couldn’t have it themselves. They also claimed that your grandfather had put his heart and soul into making them, perhaps due to him feeling that his time was near and therefore decided to leave one more masterpiece in the world.

It’s been years since they told you the tale and months since they had passed away from disease. As of now with the union breathing down your neck, the neighbor’s envy was the least of your worries. You needed to finish that commission, and standing in front of the locked shed with your chisel and hammer in hand, your grandfather’s statues are the only chance you have.

Placing the chisel on the lock, you raise your hammer and slam it down onto the back of the spike, breaking the padlock apart. You gently push the door open, letting in what may have been the only fresh air within the shed for years. The inside was dark, with the only light emerging from the doorway to the inside. You couldn’t see the statues anywhere within, the shadows inside to dark to see from the outside glare. You set your hammer and chisel down on the ground outside before stepping forward inside.

The air inside was musty and heavy, normal for an unopened shed, with cracks in the wall and roof allowing in rays of light from outside. Several crates were scattered about the building seemingly filled with some unknown good. As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you did indeed find the statues that your grandfather created, five of them total, but they were not as you thought to see them.

Each of them was in the shape of a curvy woman, with adequate breasts and gorgeous child bearing hips and alabaster white skin, signature of marble. Their anatomy was amazing, with true-to-life detail in areas like the knees and genitals, each toe and finger having been sculpted apart from each other on the extremities. Various cracks pocked what would be uninterrupted curves of stone around the thighs and arms of the statues, all in various states of disrepair. The features of the faces were similar to each other, with button noses and thin lips with, strangely, platinum hair streaming down from their scalp. This did not, however, detract from some of the sheer, off putting features that plagued them.

Only three of the statues had heads, with one of them cradling its own, seemingly shocked one within its arms. The necks of the two headless ones were similar to the dullahan, seemingly struck by some force that left only jagged edges. Of the two with attached heads, one of them had, instead of hair, silvery, silk cloth draped around its head, covering most of it and trailing down to cover one of its arms. The faces of the statues were horrific, as instead of sculpted eyes and mouths were instead black pits that led inwards to the statues’ hollow heads, cracks extending in all directions around the face like scars.

You brought your hand to shield your eyes and sighed deeply. The statues had been ruined from years of neglect! There was no way you could sell them in this state. You turn to leave, your head hanging in shame, before stopping without a single step.

There were footprints in the dust on the ground. They appeared to be made by someone walking barefooted and led to all about the room. No one in your family walked with bare feet as long as you could remember. Quickly turning about, you looked to the statues, not knowing what to look for.

Then, you spotted one, the only seemingly ‘normal’ one in the room with long hair.

It was looking straight at you, it’s head twisted sideways to its body.

It was looking straight forward just seconds ago.

You screamed out in shock, turning to run out only to witness one of the headless statues slam the door shut, ushering darkness inside of the shed. You turn wildly to find another way out, to no avail, instead slamming your hand into the chest of the other headless statue. Before you can even grip your hand in pain, the statue grabs your arm, holding it in place in its cold and stoney grip. You try to wrench yourself out of the statue’s grip with no success, the stone fingers holding you firmly in place as the other headless statue manages to grab your other arm, leaving you spread eagle and vulnerable.

As you struggled within their grip, the other remaining three statues stepped in front of your form, the dullahan and cloth-headed statues standing beside the most normal one. The normal stepped up slowly towards you, cocking its head in curiosity with its pits staring directly into your eyes. You flinch as it raised it’s hand towards your face, expecting the worst from the seemingly emotionless abomination.

You were shocked to find it gently placed a finger on your lips, shushing you and asking, “Please stop screaming. I want to ask you a few questions.”

You stopped struggling against the fact the thing could speak alone was astonishing, let alone ask you politely to shut up! It took its finger away from your lips, questioning, “Who are you? Are you one of the villagers?”

You shake your head. “No, I own the studio outside. My parents passed it down to me.”

The rims of her eyes widened, to your continued surprise when you mentioned you owned the studio. “Oh! You’re a part of the Mason family?” You felt the statues holding your arms ease up, but not enough to release you. “How has everyone been? Unless…” the pits dampened softly, “they’re not here to have heard you calling for help.”

You nod your head

“Oh…” the statue wraps her arms around your neck and holds you close, closer than you’ve ever been used to. While the statue’s skin is still cold to the touch, it is noticeably softer, as if the marble stone had turned to skin. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I know how you feel. Shortly after he made me, Thomas I mean, he passed away, and his son and his son’s wife put me in here, worried that the villagers would think me as cursed. They said they would keep an eye on me but...” she doesn’t finish, instead resting her head on your shoulder as the other statues watched on with sullen expressions.

For everything you’ve been dealing with recently, you couldn’t help but feel bad for her. For every bad thing that’s happened, she seemed to have it worse. You’d honestly hug her if you could.

But of all the things she’s already explained, there were still some questions that needed to be answered. “Hey,” you nudge the statue’s head, bringing her back to view in front of you, “can I ask you a few questions while you ask me your questions?”

She shrugs her shoulders. “I don’t see why not.”

“What’s with all the different statues? Who are they?”

She turned, before releasing you from her embrace. “When Thomas created me, gave me life, he also gave me,” she waved her arm around the room, “these empty vessels to inhabit.” On que, the other statues spoke with the same voice.

“Like this one” piped up the clothed one.

“Or the two holding you.” added the dullahan one.

“Of course,” spoke the normal one, “he wanted to make them somewhat varied. Hence the cloth, and beheaded ones, morbidly enough.” She turned back to you. “May I ask a question?”

You nod in response.

“What’s your name?”

“It’s…” you pause for a moment, realizing the awkward implications of your name, “Ehm. Thomas.”

The statue tilts her head in curiosity. “Thomas? Like... my creator?” You gulp and nod your head. “Oh.”

“What’s your name?” you quickly ask to change the topic.

“My name is, as given by your grandfather, Galatea. It is nice to meet you Thomas.”

“And it’s a pleasure to meet you. Now can you uh…” you look towards both the statues holding you, “kinda, let go of me?”

“In a minute, I’ve a one last question. Are you...alone?”

You scrunch your brow in curiosity. “Uhm, yes? I thought I said I was. Why do you ask?”

She shrugs. “Just wondering. Then you, you won’t mind,” she wraps her arms around your neck again, soft as they were before, “if I act as your company?”

What.

She didn’t mean THAT did she?

You open your mouth to ask, “What do you mean?” only to be interrupted by her lips meeting yours.

She DID mean THAT.

The only thing more shocking than her upfrontness was the fact that, somewhere in the dark pit behind her lips, she did indeed have some sort of tongue that traced the edge of your mouth. She only repeated this twice before pulling away, spit leaving your mouth on a string attached to her own lips. “That’s what I mean.” She finally answers.

You look down to the string of spit before blurting out, “But why?”

She places her forehead against your own and forces your vision directly into where her eyes would be. “Thomas, I have been created by and kept by your family. I would not have life if not for your grandfather, and as such have nothing but love for you. I, NEED to give my love to something. So please.” She traces a finger a finger down your jaw line, “Tell me if you will allow me to pour my love unto you.”

You bite your lip, kicking the offer around in your head.

She WAS offering.

AND you had been lonely for a while now.

As if reading your mind, she wraps her arms around your neck, the other two statues moving past you. She whispers, “How about this? You say when you want me to stop. Alright?” She leans forward, smooching her lips against your lips and snaking her tongue back inside your mouth. You return her ministrations with your own tongue, orally dancing with her as her two other bodies fiddle with the belt of your pants, pressing into your back with their voluptuous bodies. Pulling down your pants and underwear, Galatea’s two other bodies allow your already hard pecker to spring upwards and into the crotch of the body before you. Galatea breaks off from your kiss to moan loudly, looking down to your manhood and smiling once she saw your size. “Already hard, and so large too.”

She reaches down and takes your cock in her hand, eliciting a gasp as her cold fingers squeeze teasingly at you. “You’re so excited just from seeing me, almost as excited as me seeing you walk in here. There is, though, one thing you cannot show that I can.” Galatea surprises you by stepping directly into you, forcing you belly to belly with her and pinning your member between her smooth, tight thighs. The stoney flesh easily gives way to your member, the head easily passing clear to her backside through the slick, fleshy valley. She grabs your head and brings you into a kiss, shocking you double-fold as she begins to move her hips, making your head disappear back between her mounds before roughly sending it back, slapping her pelvis against the flesh of your own. You feel one of the other statues approach your ear, whispering, “Can you feel it Thomas? Between my legs? It is my anticipation, the longing I have for you.” The statue takes your ear into its lips as the other somewhat awkwardly holds its head up to the other. “You can’t show your anticipation, but it doesn’t matter. Just let me take care of making us all feel good Thomas.”

You close your eyes and allow yourself to be submerged in the sensations running through your body. You curl your fingers in ecstasy as the flesh surrounding your dick slowly warms up and becomes smoother to slide against, all the while maintaining the tightness of it all. The statue sucking on your ear had been progressively licking deeper and deeper, sending wet, squelching noises directly into your core. The other head, still breathing lightly in your ear- you weren’t even sure if it needed to- sent shivers racing down your spine, only to meet the shivers heading upwards from your pelvis.

The sensational bliss ended all at once, as the statues pulled away from your ears, Galatea releasing your cock from its fleshy prison. You sigh in exasperation as the statues restraining you release you from your grasp, the statues behind you audibly shifting positions. Galatea grabs your shoulders, turning you around while whispering, “Let’s go further Thomas. It would be premature to end it in my thighs, wouldn’t it?” You turn around to the dullahan statue on all fours, presenting its ass towards you, using two fingers to spread apart her glistening, perfect, set of lower lips.

She begins to push down on your shoulders, whispering for you to kneel to which you oblige. Your member comes to rest between the buns of the dullahan as the clothed statue takes position to its side to push the walls of flesh against your rod. Galatea takes the time to unbutton your shirt, slipping it off your shoulders and body as you remain entranced by the bubble butt in front of you, your dick hot-dogged between the two buns. Suddenly, Galatea pins your arms to yours sides in a bear hug from behind, breathing heavily on the crook of your neck. You feel her press against you tightly, her cold nipples poking into your back as her pelvis pushes against your backside. “Don’t worry of a thing,” she whispers delicately into your ear, “let me make us both feel good.”

You tense up as you feel your balls being sucked from beneath you, a tongue licking tenderly at your family stoneworks. Looking down, you spot the dullahan statue’s head between your legs, lowering her brows seductively as she releases one ball from her mouth and begins sucking on the other, pausing every so often to lick at the rest of your sack. The statue behind you lowers a hand to grab at the base of your member, slowly thrusting her hips to move your own, forcing your dick to grind against the dullahan’s statue’s asscheeks. The sensations coming from your cock are extraordinary, the lubrication from Galatea’s earlier ministrations applying nicely to the flesh surrounding you. Somehow, the walls around your cock are even better than Galatea’s thighs, something she seems to notice. The dullahan statue began to gently shake her hips, sending her flesh slowly wobbling as the clothed statue gingerly leans down towards your cock, trailing its tongue down your length before smiling upwards towards you.

Abruptly, the dullahan statue leans forward as Galatea pulls you back, aligning the head of your member with the entrance of the dullahan’s womanhood. You feel her physically wince besides you, letting out a sharp breath as your head prods at her vessel’s entrance. She whispers into your ear, quieter than she had been previously. “Are you ready? Ready to feel it? To feel my love?” Before you can even answer, she begins pushing you inside, the dullahan pushing back with barely restrained excitement.

Her insides are cold, almost colder than you can bear, if not for the heat of your cock quickly spreading through her loins and making it more than bearable. The walls of her tunnel immediately grip around you as any girl’s would, only hers seem even tighter than someone never taken. As you are pushed deeper, Galatea took shallower and shallower breaths, the clothed statue almost reeling from the sensation. By the time you feel your head bottom out, your pelvis firmly against the dullahan’s ass, Galatea lets out a throaty moan from behind you before slumping into your shoulder as the dullahan’s insides tighten sporadically around you. The clothed headed statue has its head down with its legs scrunched together, the dullahan’s own looking as if they were about to give out.

She just came from slowly shoving your cock inside her snatch.

After a few seconds, Galatea seems to recompose herself, lifting herself off your shoulder and back to beside your head. You would try to tease her, if not for the fact that you were almost falling prey to the sensations of her ministrations yourself. She doesn’t waste time by speaking, and slowly begins pulling you back before pushing you forward once again into the jiggly ass of the dullahan statue. The head beneath your balls, having paused from your insertion, began to polish your family stones once again with vigor, switching between which one was being sucked or even lapping at the space in between them. Still to the side of the dullahan, the clothed statue maintained its position, looking up towards you as it pushed the ass in front of you back and forth to wring out your cock. To the flanks in front of the dullahan, the other two headless statues stood idle, their fingers in the nethers and groping at their chests, further arousing your excitement.

Galatea keeps her hand firmly gripping the base of your rod, keeping you aligned with her snatch and moving you back and forth into her as the rest of her body explores yours. Her lips gravitate towards your upper torso, planting soft, chilling kisses that shake your very being without much effort, slowly trailing up and down the back of your mantle, to your neck, and finally to the side of it below your ear. When she reaches your ear, she begins her new wave of oral massage by gently nipping, at first, at your lobe before using her tongue to lap at the inside of your ear, resuming the squelching noises that had rocked you before. At the crescendo of the act, she would take the rest of your ear into her mouth, gently sucking on it as the head beneath your balls and utterly drowning out any other sounds that could possibly distract you from the extravaganza. Abruptly, she would pull away to kiss at your neck again, before moving on to your shoulder and repeating the whole circle once again. While her free arm was no longer restraining yours totally, you still felt powerless to stop her as she let her hand roam about your chest, pausing occasionally to gently tweak at your nipples if not gliding across your chest or rubbing at your inner thighs.

The dullahan’s head, still at it’s work, made sure that you never drifted off, keeping you constantly aware and alert with her ministrations. Her mouth is constantly at work, either by lapping at the crevices amongst your stoneworks or enveloping them in her soft lips, idly sucking on them to a sheen. Eventually, she starts to explore your landscape, stretching her tongue to lick all the way at the base of your rod between Galatea’s fingers or the very back of your family jewels.

The dullahan’s pussy was, to say the least, phenomenally crafted, and grasped at you as you were pushed inside and out by Galatea. While improbable to say she had absolute control over her insides, her ability was still better than any of the old early year darlings you’ve bedded with, erratically tightening or softening her grip, depending on how well she could control herself. The only sight more delicious than watching your cock moving back and forth into the snatch in front of your was watching the beautiful, perfectly-rounded ass softly jiggling about as your hips met into it like ripples in water. You wanted nothing more than to break free of her grasp, just so that you could pound away at her freely, if only to make that marvelous tush bounce or to maul with your bare hands.

Frustratingly, your view was interrupted by the clothed statue standing and upwards, stepping over the dullahan and settling right down atop her rump facing you. She lifts your face to meet hers, giving a quick smile before pulling you into yet another lip lock, seemingly seeking to keep every part of you (and her) occupied at all times. She awkwardly dabs her tongue around your mouth, something you try and fail to reciprocate before she abruptly pulls away. Galatea stops her humping, her kissing, all of it, and instead breathes deeply next to your head as her headless bodies approach you.

“I just can’t control myself anymore Thomas.”

Before you can ask her what she means, she grabs your shoulders and roughly shoves you onto your back, pulling you out of the dullahan. She quickly clambers atop of you, grinding your cock against your pelvis and against her well lubricated entrance. She stares down at you with wide and seemingly wild eyes, breathing heavily as the other statues quickly begin to surround your form. “I can’t TAKE IT anymore! I NEED to feel you inside ME!” As the other bodies grab hold of your hands, Galatea lifts herself upwards with her hand grabbing at your cock and angling it towards her slit, now pried open with two fingers. Just as she begins to insert your pestle into her mortar, the clothed statue is quick to obscure your view with the soft globes of her ass, her feet softly cushioning the back of your head as her muff rests against your mouth.

As the statues manage to maneuver your fingers into their slick caverns, Galatea finally hilts you completely, resting her weight in your lap with a throaty moan. “Haaa~Thomas,” you just barely hear past the thighs of the clothed statue, “Thomas, you fill me up so well~. But I want you to fill me up EVEN MORE.” Without another word, the statues all began to grind against your various body sections, Galatea softly moaning and whimpering the whole while.

Seeing no other recourse, you lap at the clothed statue’s natural crack as she moves her hips back and forth and side to side, gently using her hand to bring your head even deeper into her crotch as her thighs hold you in place beneath her. You start wiggling your fingers within the tight confines of the headless statues’ cunts as they grind to and fro, your fingers deep knuckle deep in them. The dullahan’s head remained in its position, now idly licking at any exposed part of your rod that Galatea didn’t already cover with her snatch. Galatea’s main body rocked back and forth on your rod, grinding against you like a stone while occasionally bouncing up and down to stimulate your cock.

You feel a weight plop down on your stomach, another pair of thighs wrapping about your midsection as something begins to jostle near your stomach. Galatea giggles and shifts her weight forward, shallowly bouncing up and down in your lap as she speaks. “Ahh~, can you feel me Thomas? How much I WANT you? Trying to mark you as mine...and you ma-arking, meee~.” All at once, the statues speed up their movements, their insides tightening and loosening sporadically as you can finally feel your own climax building within your cock. Galatea keeps repeating your name as she keeps bouncing up and down on your pelvis. “Thomas! Thomas!” she says, “It’s happening again! It’s happening! Make me yours!”

With one final thrust, you bottom yourself within Galatea’s depths, her voice reaching an octave higher as all of the statues cum in unison with each other, yourself included. Pulse after pulse of your mineral rich semen pours into Galatea as her insides spasm uncontrollably around you. Both of you ride out the end in bliss, seemingly stuck in time as you feel your dick deflate within Galatea’s now thoroughly soaked cavern.

All at once, the statues demount you, allowing Galatea’s form to fall aside your form into a cold embrace at your side. Both of you lay in silence, breathing heavily from the exertion of love making, the other statues lying in a pile all around you. Galatea nuzzles into your shoulder, pulling you close as she finally catches her breath. “That was amazing,” she starts, “I didn’t think it would feel that great with someone else.”

“Well,” you shrug your head, “it tends to be like that. Hey, what did you mean by ‘make me yours’ anyways?”

Galatea’s eyes widen, obviously not expecting to have to answer for her love laden outburst. “Oh, uhm... would it be wrong to say I want to be more than your company? A part of your family perhaps?”

“What do you mean? Like, as my wife?”

“That’s one way to put it.” She responds, neutrally.

“Hm.” It seems neither of you quite know what to make of this situation. “So,” you interject, “how long do you want to lay here before getting up?”

“I don’t know, as long as you want I suppose. I’d guess you don’t find the ground comfortable huh?”

“No.”

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You were back in your workshop, sitting idly upon your ladder as you looked over the ruins of your project. Certainly, while the discovery of your new spouse was welcome, you were still in dire straits. There was no way you could fix your lady in white, there were too many small pieces missing and no adhesive for you to use. It seemed like selling your personal possessions would be the only way to pay off the workers.

“What’s wrong Thomas? You look upset.” You feel Galatea wrap her arms around your neck from behind as she leans into you.

“Oh, it’s uh…” You look back to Galatea, gently holding one of her hands as you address her. Her form really did fill out your mother’s old clothes, thank the gods you didn’t get rid of them. “It’s work related matters that I’m thinking about.”

“I see you’ve followed Thomas’s line of work.”

“Yes, only…” You look back to the remains of your lady in white, “My project was destroyed, and I have no way of starting a new one.”

“Why don’t you get another slab of marble?” Asked Galatea. “You still own the quarry right?”

“I do, only, the workers are on strike. They refuse to work until I give in to their union’s demands.”

“So why don’t you pay them to-”

“Because I don’t have the money!” You rudely interrupt your lover. “I don’t have the money because I don’t have a slab to sculpt! I don’t have a slab to sculpt because the workers want money! I can’t pay the workers because I DON’T. HAVE. MONEY!” You lean into Galatea’s body, catching your breath as she cradles your head in her arms as tears begin to blur your vision. She starts rubbing your head with one of her hands, whispering into your ear.

“It’s alright. Just let it out. Let it all slide out.”

“I would’ve been able to pay them,” You mutter between sniffles, “Once I completed the last one, it would’ve been enough. But then that BASTARD,” You clench your fists together, your voice rising back up to a shout, “THAT TRAITOR WILSON BARGES IN AND DESTROYS MY WORK!” Your hands fall weakly back to your side. “Two weeks of work. Gone in an instant.”

Galatea holds you close, slowly rocking back and forth as you slowly calm down within her grasp. What seems like hours pass by before you’ve finally caught your breath, and Galatea speaks again. “Before we do anything else, how about we clean up your studio here? That way we can at least be ready for when you get another slab of marble.”

You take a deep breath, exhaling and replying, “Yes. Yes we should do that.” Galatea smiles and gives a kiss on the cheek before letting go of you to start cleaning. You watch as she approaches the mess and picks up a piece of marble and examines it.

“Thomas,” she starts, “I’ve an idea. Once we clean up this mess, let’s head over to your quarry and see what we can do about getting a slab ourselves.”

You look up at Galatea with a raised brow. You doing manual work? You could barely do some of the harder housework already; you just weren’t built for it. “Honey,” you state with scoff of disbelief, “I don’t think I could even lift a large rock, let alone a gigantic slab of marble.”

“Don’t worry so much about it.” she replies. “I would think that I’d know a little bit about the material I came from.” Seemingly satisfied with the rubble she examined, she flicked her hair behind her and began to unbuckle her pants. Before you could ask what she was doing, she raised a finger for you to wait, dropping her pants so her marvelous, cracked thighs were visible. Taking the marble rubble, you watch as she traces the cracks in her form and discover, amazingly, that they disappeared! With the piece of rubble steadily disappearing like some sort of wax, you watch as she traces the cracks all about her pelvis, twisting about to give you a nice showing of her derriere and womanhood, now perfectly smooth to the touch. Her show ends with the disappearance of rubble, now seemingly ingrained in her form.

She giggles as she raises her pants back up and rebuckles it, satisfied with the showing with a glowing smile. She walks back up to you and gives you another kiss on the lips, stating matter-of-factly, “And besides that, you’ve got all of me helping you.”

She smiles and walks back over to the mess, about to pick up another piece before you stand up from your seat, stopping her. “How about we clean up this mess later? We ought to get a slab now so that I can use what I can to remodel my progress.”

From how she looked, you had a feeling that’s exactly what she wanted.

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What had been a hub of activity in the past was now unnervingly empty and quiet. The workers had left all of their tools and work animals in their designated places, something you and your marble helpers were thankful for. Galatea surveyed the area with her bodies, looking about for suitable chunks for your work. She identified several, tugging you along by the wrist, chittering excitedly the entire time.

“How about this one Thomas? Is it big enough for what you need?

“What about this one? Look at the layers in it, it’ll be easy to cut out!”

“This one’s perfect! Actually, no. Let’s save it for later. I could use it for a personal project.”

You had to admit, her excitement was undeniably cute. “You seem awful excited to cut into the stuff you came from Honey.”

“Are you kidding? I’m ecstatic! I get to see exactly how I was created! Not only that, but I get to help you in your work! It’s perfect!”

You nod and hum in response as you continued to look at the various stones, before Galatea grasps your wrist and hurriedly begins to drag you off to some other corner of the quarry where her other bodies awaited you. All of them were staring up in unison at a certain chunk of marble that was already in the process of being cut from the wall. From your cursory inspection, the stone seemed to be free of imperfections and discoloration. Galatea grabbed onto your arm and leaned against you, whispering, “It’s perfect. Not as perfect as the one I slated out, but it will make for a fine statue.”

“Yes, yes I suppose so,” you reply, “but what now?”

“Simple! We start cutting it out!” Galatea’s bodies bound off towards the worker’s tools and each select a set of hammers and pegs before beginning work on the marble face. She worked diligently and quickly, separating the chunk enough to where her bodies are working in unison to push away the chunk from the wall with their legs. As the wall crashes down to the quarry floor, several sets of footsteps approach you from behind, along with a familiar voice.

“Wowza Thomas. I didn’t believe the otha workers when they told me you walked in here with several ladies to work but hey! Here you are now! Doing our job instead of us!” You turn to address Wilson before realizing, in slight horror, that each of Wilson’s lackeys are wielding some sort of tool, and most likely not for their intended purpose. “Now, didn’t I make it clear that we wouldn’t take kindly to other workers who get brought in instead of us?”

“Well,” you start, “several things Wilson. One, when you destroyed that project that I was FINISHED making, I couldn’t get money to pay you and the rest of the workers. So, I’m forced to retrieve a new slab to work on for myself!”

“Wait a minute,” one of the lackeys interrupted, “you mean to tell me we were ABOUT to get paid?”

“Yes. All I had to do was bring the project to my client and it would’ve been payday!” The lackeys each turned to give a stink eye to Wilson, now visibly uncomfortable with the current predicament. “And second, these aren’t just workers, they’re-” You’re interrupted by Galatea bounding up to your side, cheerfully continuing her chittering while the small crowd took a shocked step back from you.

“Did you see how that chunk fell Thomas?! It was so nice to see all that dust go up like a great big cloud! To think, I was made from-” She stops, finally looking at Wilson and the others, “Who are they?”

“Oh, uhm,” You start, “These are, some of my workers. That’s, my foreman Wilson.” You wave your hand about them, some of the workers shyly waving in greeting with meek greetings. “Now, as I was saying, they aren’t workers, they’re-”

“Dear, which one of these men is Wilson? I’d like to have some choice words with him.”

Wilson stepped forward, a frown across his face. “I am, and if you’ve some choice words you better make them good.”

“Well,” she started, “It just seemed very counterproductive to ruin the work of the man who pays you in order to...get him to pay you? Am I getting that right?”

“Actually, for your information, little miss stoney, we wanted MORE than what he’s been giving us. We want a bigger slice of the pie!”

“So the point still stands, you want to get paid more so to do that you...obstruct, the way my husband makes money?” Wilson sat tight lipped as his lackeys kept waiting for an answer from him. “It seems like bad management to me. Excuse me,” she looks to one of the workers, “but how much more did you want to make?”

“Uhm,” the worker stammers, “About, fifteen gold extra.”

“Fifthteen gold extra from what?”

“From about thirty-five.” He answers.

“Wait a minute,” you interrupt, “wait a minute, what do you mean you want fifty gold!?”

“He means,” Wilson interjects, “You shoulda attended that private meeting I told you about, but, we’re long past that now. Boys, let’s shut this whole thing-”

“No no no! We’re going to talk about this right now! The current wage I’ve set for the workers IS fifty gold a week!”

Galatea gives you a quick kiss on the cheek, whispering, “I think you’ve got this from here.” before turning to walk off to oversee the rest of the removal of the stone from the wall.

“What do you mean you’re paying us fifty already?” Asks one of the workers.

“Why don’t you ask the person I put in charge of distributing pay?” You say, pointing to your quarry foreman, “Gods! I can’t believe I’ve been so busy I couldn’t check in with the quarry to make sure everyone was being paid their rightful amount!”

Wilson quickly backed off from the other workers, now glaring at him, shouting, “OK BOYS! LET’S GET THIS UNDERWAY! We’ll talk about raising wages even further later right now let’s save our jobs huh?” He quickly shoves past you, pushing hard enough to send you flat on your ass. “Hey! Cavern head! Get away from that hunka rock!” He quickly catches up to Galatea, turning her about by the shoulder and grabbing her by the wrist to drag her away.

“Hey, Hey! Let go of me!” She cries out, clawing at his grubby hand. You quickly scramble to your feet, motioning for the other workers to join you as you run up to the scuffle to free your wife. Just as you reach the conflict, Galatea shouts, “I said, let GO!” and winds back her arm before delivering a meaty slap to Wilson’s cheek.

You never thought you’d see teeth fly out of a mouth like that.

Galatea backed away, holding a horrified hand to her mouth as Wilson stumbled from the blow before falling in a heap on the cold, stone floor. Galatea looks over to you stammering, “I-I only meant to slap him! I didn’t think it would be that hard!”

“Well,” you start, “Obviously what’s soft to a stone varies from what’s soft to something made of flesh. Are you alright dear?”

Your stone wife rubs at her wrist as she looks down to the foreman. “Yes, I’m unharmed.”

“Alright, that’s all that matters for the moment. How are your other bodies doing?”

“Well…” You look back over her shoulder to Galatea’s other bodies pulling at the stone with rope and hooks to get it to finally fall.

You hear a worker approach you from behind and turn to face him. He removes his hat and holds it in his hands, revealing a bald head and a somewhat anxious face. “Uhm,” he starts, “Mr. Mason, I wanted to... apologize on behalf of all the workers in the quarry. Had any of us actually came to you, none of this would’ve happened.”

“Ah, it’s alright,” you wave off, “there were mistakes made on both ends, a failure of communication. What’s your name?”

“Andrew, sir.”

“Andrew. Thank you for the apology. Was there anything else?”

“Well, uhm, I see you’ve gotten a new, person in the house that you’re rather fond of.”

“That’s right.”

“Well, I would think-” He stops when he is interrupted by the sound of a chunk of marble falling away from the rock wall, something that draws your attention as well. “I would think that you would like it if me and the boys took care of moving that hunk of stone for ya. The thing that just fell I mean.”

“That would be nice of you Andrew.” You soften your gaze and shift your weight from one leg to another. He was at least being proactive about making it up to you. “Hey, would you like to be my new foreman? The slots opened up with Wilson’s departure from my employment.”

Andrew’s eyes light up at your offer. “I- duh, su- I mean, what responsibilities does it entail?”

“Three things,” you hold up your fingers, “One, get that slab to my studio. Two, get the rest of the workers back in here and working. And three, get this,” You send a foot slamming into Wilson’s arm, eliciting a groan, “conniving bastard to the bailiff, and ask him to investigate his house for any of the stolen money.”

Andrew smiles, putting his hat back on his head before turning back to the workers, gathering them into a huddle for their orders. Galatea saddles back towards your side, kissing your cheek as her other bodies gather around you in a stoney embrace. “I knew you had the rest of it handled.” she whispers.

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The bailiff's investigation over the next few days revealed much in regards to Wilson’s embezzlement. The money was found within his home, and Wilson himself confessed to planning to buy the quarry from you when money ran dry, forcing you to pay him even more if you wanted your material. When your parents had died, he had told the workers that their pay would have to be reduced due to cutting costs that “you” had implemented. Due to your workload, you hadn’t noticed when he started rousing them to unionize, something that was now thoroughly dissolved in the wake of his hanging. Now, under Andrew, the quarrymen have been receiving their fair pay and have restarted operations within the quarry.

Renewed by the presence of your stoney lover and the relief from the union demands, your efforts in recreating your lady in white were more than doubled. Within days, she was back to her original glory, if not a little bit less so around the hips. When you pulled away to observe your work of art, you idly chuckle as you think back to the client’s wife and how she would pale in comparison to the lady in white. You put your tools into your apron as the door to your studio opens, Galatea’s cloth headed body stepping inside. “What do you think?” You ask her.

“Oh it’s beautiful Thomas. If I didn’t know better then I’d say you’re trying to make another living statue.”

“Well I’ll say it wouldn’t be as beautiful as you.” You nestle up close to her, embracing her and burying your face in her hair.

“Oh stop,” she giggles, “You shouldn’t short-sell yourself like that.” You pull away to look into her eyes before giving her a kiss on the lips, one she reciprocates. “If your grandfather could see you now, he’d be so proud of you.”

“I would think mom and dad would be too.”

“Them too.” She gives you another kiss on the lips before continuing, “I just wanted to let you know that dinner was ready. A healthy stew of carrots, potato, with some chunks of beef.”

“Ach, beef stew again?” You groan.

“It’s just till payday dear. And I’ve another request as well, if you’ll allow me.”

“What’s would that be?”

“I need to borrow the studio a few days. I’m thinking of sculpting another body, something more top heavy.”

“You do know that’ll set us back a bit if I can’t work right?”

“I know, but this studio is big enough to fit us both working in it-”

“I mean if you’re using my tools to make a new body. I can’t use them when you are.”

She pouts. “Hm. It wouldn’t be like that if you commision a new set of tools from the blacksmith. It’d let me make some sculptures of my own, some of them you might enjoy.”

You raise a brow. “Oh really? Like what?”

“Like daughters.”

You purse your lips, nodding in agreement. That would be something you’d enjoy. “Alright,” you start, “I’ll think of it. But how do you plan on paying me back?”

She looks at you, confused for a moment before her brows lower to compliment her mischievous grin. “Will it be something I can pay back tonight?”

“Maybe.” You answer.

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You were right behind her that night, grabbing onto her waist as you thrust in and out of her, sending her gloriously smooth, marble ass jiggling with your hips. She panted and moaned into the pillow in front of her, her other bodies watching and masturbating, at your request for one-on-one time. Her breathing grew rapid, her babbling of your name increasing in a crescendo as your own release drew nigh. Rearing back, you finally thrust fully into her, touching her womb and forcing her to arc her back in ecstasy. And in that moment of bliss, she shouted something you’d never thought you’d hear, and knew you’d NEVER want to hear.

“Daddy!”

You stare wide-eyed in the throes of your climax, Galatea coming down from her own before suddenly tensing up in realization. Her bodies look at you, tight-lipped and seemingly unable to speak.