Spontaneous Decorative Petrification Syndrome

(Open beginning)
It was already dark when the professor was returning home by the shortcut through the park. She had been focused on the latest reports she'd received for her research until late. A peak of more than 8,000 cases reported worldwide only in the last week was a lot of information if you were looking for some kind of pattern, as the team she was part of was: The team investigating Spontaneous Decorative Petrification Syndrome, aka, SDPS.
... (Continue from here)


It was already dark when the professor was returning home by the shortcut through the park. She had been focused on the latest reports she'd received for her research until late. A peak of more than 8,000 cases reported worldwide only in the last week was a lot of information if you were looking for some kind of pattern, as the team she was part of was: The team investigating Spontaneous Decorative Petrification Syndrome, aka, SDPS.

About a year earlier, statues began appearing all over the world in public places with no idea who or how they got there. Most of the statues were female, but not exclusively. Many had completely casual poses, as if they were representations of people going somewhere or minding their own casual business; others were posed in clearly explicit stances, erotic, even pornographic, public works of art, with expressions of surprise or those of the climax of an orgasm. They were all naked, although they often had accessories like glasses or jewelry, sometimes inside the rock as if they were embedded in it. When they were posed sexually, clothing was often found around them, appearing as if they had taken it off themselves. They were all different, but if they were depictions of real people no one could recognize their features or find identity in the subjects at databases.

The working hypothesis was it might be some kind of artistic movement or trend, although there were some reports on the internet saying that some had seen people in front of them spontaneously turning into statues, but these were dismissed as fantasies from the mentally ill or mere online trolling. Until a statue taking a selfie was found out with the phone still recording, undeniably revealing the statues had once been flesh once. These witnesses were then interviewed, and it was given a name: Spontaneous Decorative Petrification Syndrome.

The cause for this peculiar syndrome has yet to be discovered, but certain rules about what it does have been established thanks to the investigation. In general, the victims were alone, or with very few witnesses around, almost always on the street, but there were cases in which they were found in other public spaces (such airports, train stations or even a water park) or a few in their own -suspected- homes. Without any warning, some of the victims were instantly paralyzed, next their clothing disintegrated, and a pedestal of marble or another mineral forms beneath their feet. From there in seconds the stone spread across the victim's skin, turning them into a statue. In these cases, if the victim was carrying something (such as a bag or suitcase) and it fell to the ground before the clothing disappeared, it was usually found next to the new statue.

The other kind of victims suddenly feel an imperious chill and begin to remove their clothes, following an overwhelming need to be naked. Once nude, they would assume sensually obscene poses, sometimes even masturbating. Like in the other cases the pedestal would appear beneath them, following the same petrification process. Instant later, where a human had been, a statue would appear, this time surrounded by the clothes it had taken off in their last moments as an animated being.

That petrification wasn't the most disturbing effect of the syndrome, the real alarm came from the impossibility to identify most of the victims, as their quick transformation into stone erased all traces of their previous existence in the world. Their work, property, identification, paperwork to the recollections in the minds of their friends, coworkers, or loved ones were deleted. The only evidence of them having been human are the statements of the few witnesses, the aforementioned last second selfies or recordings, and frightening gaps in records and memories in the shape of people who were no longer there. There were frequent cases of people suspected of being family who had objects that were, most likely, belonging to a victim but didn't know why they had them, or offices with fully equipped rooms but without an assigned worker or explanation as to why they were that way, or anything that could lead to names or surnames, or phone numbers associated with checking accounts that had no account holders, even birthdates vanished.

Interestingly, again, for unknown reasons, this kind of rewriting of reality did not affect the mostly metallic or jeweled accessories the victim may be wearing, such as glasses, watches, rings, earrings, and jewelry in general, which became integrated as part of the statue. The few cases of identification are due precisely to these accessories, as they had some name engraved on them. Or the phone of the first confirmed victim, which apparently wasn't affected because its casing was made of metal. Names that led to people who officially did not exist, but whose vague traces remain.

Those were the names the professor was investigating as part of the team trying to figure out why this was happening, how to stop it, and even if there was some way to reverse it. Her specialty was criminology, but she was very good at finding patterns amongst murder victims to pin-point serial killers. A useful skill set that led to her becoming obsessed with the syndrome. Though the names and possible occupations of only about one in every thousand of the statues were known, and never with 100% certainty, she was trying to discover the link that could make so many different individuals end up becoming... pieces of art.

Calling them pieces of art was not a  metaphor due to their condition as statues. For a few months now, there had been a certain social inertia towards the victims being displayed as if they were ordinary statues, museums were being open for them, and the wealthy were donating good sums to the governments in charge of the statues to "take care of" them in their mansions and gardens.

That had been the focus of the  professor's research for the past few weeks. But now, after a hard day of work, she was aiming to rest her mind for the evening. She he always tried to walk home, it helped her sleep, she said, but her feet were starting to kill her. Early in the morning, she had to present a reporter to some politicians, and although she normally didn't like wearing them to work, she put on some high heels, but forgot to take normal shoes for the rest of the day. Her feet were punishing her for such a mistake, so she decided to take a shortcut by crossing through a park. The park was well-lit and didn't have a bad reputation. It was almost a full moon and it was a fairly clear night, so she wasn't too worried about undesirable outcomes.

As she considered whether to heat up the leftover pizza she ordered last weekend in the oven or order a salad over the phone from one of the local restaurants, a big sparkling shiver ran down her spine. A shiver that made her forget dinner and flared her libido. A shiver that irresistibly commanded her to take off her clothes. In the depths of her clever mind, a small voice began to scream fearing what would follow, but the impulse, the need to leave all her skin exposed to the night was overwhelming. Her entire being demanded that she obey.

And so she did.

In a haste, as if her clothes were burning her, she threw down her purse, which opened, scattering its content, and quickly removed the high heels that had been tormenting her feet. Next came off her jacket, her skirt and blouse, and finally her bra and panties. Everything was scattered around her, as if she didn't care, because, in fact, she didn't anymore. She just longed to be completely naked, and she felt her genitals begin to throb and moisten when she finally got rid of the annoying fabric. Then she sat on the ground and noticed how from the east, right below her, from the point where a drop of her genital fluids outflow, something like a liquid appeared out of nowhere, moving on its own, taking fast a shape in a sort of smooth circular base above and a hexagonal one below, a color and texture different from the stones in the park walkway. She recognized it on the spot, confirming her horny suspicion: A pedestal.

Her pedestal.

Contrary to what it might seem to an outsider, she no longer feels any worry, rather an enormous chestpounding joy. This was her pedestal. Hers and no one else's. Her place, her spot. The little voice inside her brain continued screaming, but the woman decided to slam close that mental door, forever shutting down the professor. That little voice was annoying and useless. She didn't need it. No if she was already nude and on top of her pedestal.

Her vagina wouldn't stop throbbing without need for touch. For some reason the professor was proud of her, and she had to show it off; everyone had to be able to see it. It was beautiful, just like her. So beautiful. It was as if it were a work of art, nothing as crude and mundane as a human being. Flesh and blood were so... mediocre. Stone, on the other hand, was persistent, enduring, perennial... eternal. Something much more fitting for a beautiful work of art... like her.

That mental revelation caused orgasm, and the pose she was to take formed with a clarity like that of that night's full moon. She took her right leg, lighting it with her arm while leaning on the other, and a slight expression of satisfaction formed on her face. Then, as if a brush were spreading a layer of paint from her hip to the rest of her body, a wave of stone, the same as the pedestal, covered the professor's entire skin in just a few seconds, omitting her glasses, earrings, pendant, and a ring. During the last tenth of a second before her eyes were immortalized an immense happiness invaded the teacher's soul, only for it to evaporate in the immediate aftermath, like everything else in the professor's brain and beyond.

There was a new statue in the world, and a new victim of Spontaneous Decorative Petrification Syndrome. It would be found the next day in the park, although she would immediately be linked as a possible victim of the syndrome, especially because of her glasses and jewelry, something unusual for a common statue, and would be collected to join all the other statues at some governmental warehouse that was getting crowed, of course no one would recognize her, and along with her, her part in the research into these bizarre events would simply fade.

Meanwhile, SDPS would continue to spread throughout the world, and the new work of art, a former criminologist professor, would continue to display her perfectly immortalized vagina in stone with silent pride, perhaps hoping, in a way that only a statue can do, to have an owner it could help decorate their home.

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Render vaguely based in the pose of one of the last works of Dorin/Naga's Den, I did this statue experimenting too with a new way to use textures without seams, to make more "uniform" statues 🙂 The caption is somethingthat I have been thinking a few time. Initially it was being only a caption with 1000 words, but... I got involved with the lore and finally it has been close to 11K words... 😅 If you like it, I can to make more victims of the SDPS (In fact I probably will make more, I like the lore I though 😛) Text review by my friend SenorIncognito 🙂
And by the way... what do you think about the professor? Who wants her decorating your home? 😉 And what version do you like more, with pupils or no pupils?