Becomming the Treassure - Gold Statue TF
Tags: Inanimate, Unaware, Permanent, Statue TF, Object TF, ASFR, Caption, Objectification, Petrification
DescriptionIf you want to make a suggestion or have an unique idea? Join the Discord Server. Maybe there is a giveaway so don't miss it! Psss the uncensored versions are there as well!Becomming the Treassure - Gold Statue TFThe country roads of County Kerry stretched out before Bridget like green r…
The country roads of County Kerry stretched out before Bridget like green ribbons unfurling through the hills. Her bicycle creaked with each pedal, the old thing barely holding together, but it got the job done. She'd come down from Belfast for the long weekend, escaping the city noise for the quiet beauty of her grandmother's homeland. "Fecking gorgeous out here," she murmured to herself, blonde hair whipping behind her in the wind. The sky had been clear an hour ago, but Ireland had her own moods. Dark clouds rolled in from the west, heavy and pregnant with rain. The first drops hit her bare arms, cool droplets that made her skin pebble with goosebumps. She didn't mind. The rain felt lovely sliding down her cheeks, tracing paths along her neck, slipping beneath the collar of her green blouse. Each droplet left a trail of sensation before dripping off her elbows, her fingertips, the hem of her skirt. 'Proper Irish weather, this is. Would be wrong to have St. Patrick's day without a bit of wet.' Then the rainbow appeared. Not a faint arc in the distance, the kind you squinted at and argued about with your mates. This was a proper rainbow, colors so vivid they looked painted across the grey sky. It stretched from one hill to another, and the end of it... The end of it touched down maybe a kilometer away. Bridget stopped pedaling. "Yer having a laugh," she breathed. She'd grown up on the stories. Every Irish child had. The pot of gold at the rainbow's end, guarded by leprechauns, impossible to find because rainbows moved when you chased them. Fairy tales for wee ones, nothing more. But this rainbow wasn't moving. 'It's right there. Right fecking THERE!' Before she could talk herself out of it, she was pedaling again. Faster this time, legs burning, rain plastering her blouse to her skin. The road curved away from the rainbow's end, so she ditched the bicycle in a ditch and started walking. Then she had to climb. The hillside was steep, covered in clover so thick it felt like walking on a mattress. Her boots sank into the soft green with each step, water squelching around her ankles. The rainbow grew larger as she approached, colors separating into distinct bands, light so bright it hurt to look at. At the top of the hill, she found it. A black iron pot, squat and heavy looking, sitting in the exact center of where the rainbow touched the earth. Light refracted around it in impossible patterns, turning the rain into prisms. "Holy Mary, Mother of God..." Bridget approached slowly, heart hammering against her ribs. The clover field around the pot was especially dense, four-leafed ones growing in patches. She bent and plucked one, tucking it behind her ear without thinking. 'For luck.' She peered into the pot and it was empty. "Are ye JOKING me?!" She kicked the pot in frustration. "All that climbing fer an empty fecking pot?!" Her accent thickened with anger as she grabbed the handles and lifted the pot off the ground. Heavier than it looked, but manageable. She'd take it home at least, have a good story for the lads at the pub. The moment the pot left the earth, everything changed. Heat flooded through her palms. Not burning heat, but deep warmth, the kind that sank into your bones and made your blood feel thick. It spread up her arms, across her shoulders, down her spine. 'What the... what's happening?' She tried to drop the pot. Her fingers wouldn't release it. She tried to step backward, but her legs wouldn't move. The warmth reached her chest and she felt her heart stutter, skip, then slow to a crawl. Each beat came further apart, thudding in her ears like a drum played by a dying man. 'MOVE! Fecking MOVE!' Her body refused. Every muscle locked rigid, joints freezing in place, tendons going taut as steel cables. She stood in the clover field like a mannequin, pot clutched in stiff fingers, unable to even blink. The rain continued to fall, but it felt different now. Heavier somehow. Each droplet hit her skin and stayed there, pooling, merging with her flesh in ways that made no sense. Her clothes began to melt. Not burn or tear they were melting like in some kind of movie. The green fabric of her blouse softened, lost cohesion, dripped down her frozen body like candle wax. Her skirt followed, sliding off her hips in a slow cascade of liquefying cotton. Even her undergarments dissolved, bra and knickers becoming nothing more than puddles on the clover. 'ME CLOTHES! Jaysus, I'm fecking NAKED!' Embarrassment flooded through her paralyzed mind, but she couldn't move to cover herself. Could only watch in her peripheral vision as her bare breasts became visible, as her naked pussy was exposed to the Irish rain. Then her skin changed. It started at her fingertips, where she touched the pot. The pale pink of her flesh shifted to yellow, then deepened to a rich metallic gold. The transformation spread like honey flowing upward, coating each finger, crawling over her knuckles, covering her palms. 'I'm turning GOLD! I'
