Abby shook her head. She couldn't believe this was happening to her. First, the bombshell laid by her boyfriend Craig (she supposed she should refer to him as her "ex-boyfriend" from now on) that he had been seeing someone on the side. And now she was trapped within a sculpture she was supposed to be protecting.
When she left the apartment after Craig's revelation, her mind was filled with questions. Why did he cheat on her? Was she not woman enough for him? Didn't she give him everything he asked for? Many of her friends had told her she was making a mistake when she revealed she was moving in with Craig. They were shocked to learn a few months later that she had been cooking, cleaning and generally keeping house for him after her daily beat as security guard at the Guggenheim. But she had done all these things gladly, for she thought it was what a woman should do.
How was she to know he would tell her one day as she was leaving the house that he wanted her to move out? And when she had asked why, he had hemmed and hawed and finally revealed that he had been porking one of their colleagues, and an OLDER woman at that.
"What is wrong with me?" She had asked herself as she took the subway to work. She stared at her reflection in the windows. She was in the prime of her life, and it showed. Her blonde hair was swept back into a ponytail to make her look a little more forbidding and severe, but that still did not hide the fact that she was an attractive 25-year-old. Her body was not voluptuous but it was taut and firm. Her belly was flat, so much so that it made her pubis look more pronounced -- Craig had laughed at that and said it looked like she had a penis when she was in her panties -- but her butt was round and she could hardly be said to have a manly figure.
Yet, Craig had left her for pudgy little Brenda, who didn't have her long legs and perky tits. Yes, Brenda, who was older than even Craig... he said he preferred a more experienced woman, and there was nothing wrong with her. It was just, "well, dammit, Abby, you've still got a bit of growing up to do!"
She had asked if it had anything to do with her repeated refusal to accede to his requests for "kinky sex". He had denied it, and refused to listen any further, even when she allowed that she would be willing to try oral sex, but not anal. That was... nasty, she said. He had laughed and said he wasn't breaking up with her because of the sex... he just found her a little too immature for him.
All the way to work, Abby and fretted over Craig's real reasons for splitting with her. She couldn't believe that he would be interested in Brenda... compared to Abby, she was positively matronly. And she knew how sexual Craig was, so it was hard for her to accept that he preferred someone else to her. Abby, who had had to beat off advances from the opposite (and some from the same) sex since she was 13!
By the time she walked through the doors at the museum, she had focused on what was most pressing for her. After moving in with Craig, she had given up her apartment. Now, he was giving her only 2 weeks to move out. She couldn't see how she could find herself alternative accommodation at such short notice.
When she reported to the chief, she realized that this would turn out to be a really bad day. She had drawn the zombie duty, which was an eight-hour shift at the storage facility in the basement. Nobody liked going down there, not least because there was nothing to see or do, but it was no place for goofing off, since the place was monitored by cameras and the guard on duty had to hand the tapes over to the next guard at the end of the shift. The next guard would then review the tapes and then tape them over, unless some incident occurred during the previous shift.
Getting sent to storage was often seen as punishment, and Abby knew just why she had drawn the duty -- she had just last week turned down a lumbering (and rather lame) attempt at a pass from the chief. He hadn't been too overt, of course -- there were enough sexual harassment cases in the security community to prevent that -- but he had tried his luck. Now she knew she was going to draw this duty until another sweet young thing turned the chief down.
She had shuddered involuntarily when she stepped into the storage room. It was not a particularly cold or imposing place, but because it was so quiet, lighting was kept to a minimum. Given the kind of objets d'art they stored here, the shadows thrown onto the floors and walls were haunting, to say the least. Although Abby was no agnostic, she didn't subscribe to a particular religion, but looking around at the place made her wish she had someone to pray to.
"Brrrr..." she said out loud, and was a little surprised to have her exclamation echoed back to her. "I know," said Dana, the pretty redhead she was replacing. The chief certainly knew how to pick his women. "It's damned cold in here, but it's much warmer down where the exhibits are."
The room was pretty much empty today, most of the exhibits having been moved out for a themed exhibition in the main hall. Just a few sheeted pieces, and one ghastly white piece in the centre of the room. She checked the manifesto and saw that it was titled "pleasure in the machine", by an anonymous artist.
After Dana had handed over the tape and left, she switched on all the lights that were available, taking note of the burned out ones. It wasn't part of her job, but at least it gave her something to do.
Something caught the corner of her eye. "Curious," she said out loud, and jumped again as the word came back at her. This echoing would take some getting used to. The lights focused on the main piece seemed to be working a little better than the rest. In fact, she would have sworn she saw little sparkles on the curved surfaces of the sculpture.
She walked closer, keeping her eyes on the artwork. It seemed to glow and pulse, almost as if it was alive. She couldn't see how it represented pleasure or machines, and she knew it wasn't because of her lack of appreciation of modern sculpture -- it had too many smooth curves to look like a machine, and there was very little anthropomorphic about it, unless there was something about the centerpiece, which was enclosed within what looked like walls of undulating arms or tentacles. She couldn't see what made up the centre of the thing from where she was standing.
Reaching out, she touched it, and withdrew her hand immediately. It had the smooth texture of stone, but if it was, it was a material unknown to her. It seemed to be warm and a little moist too.
"Maybe it's the lights," she said to no one in particular, noting how the spotlights shone directly onto the piece. The moisture could also be due to increased moisture levels in the storage room, although she couldn't figure out how that could have occurred. Artifacts kept here were usually averse to moisture. She made a note on her notepad to check on the humidity in the room, turned to walk away, and then stopped when a brilliant rainbow sparkle caught the corner of her eye.
Abby turned to look at the artwork again, but could not discern just where she had seen the sudden brilliant display. It seemed to have come from somewhere within the sculpture, but she couldn't see it now she was facing it. She turned again, and was arrested once more by that same flash. Each time she turned and looked away, she just managed to see a tiny burst of light that she couldn't see when she was looking full on at the thing.
"Hmm... wonder what's in there?" she thought to herself as she turned for the umpteenth time and saw the flash of light. It was no light source, since it would have betrayed itself when she looked at it, so it must have been a reflection off something inside.
She walked around it twice, trying hard to catch a glimpse of it, but all she could see were ghostly white shapes inside. During her third round, she evinced a way into the sculpture, but it was only a small space and she could not tell if it led anywhere. It was also the only area of the sculpture where she could not see the sparkle, even when she turned away.
"Shit, it's probably nothing," she muttered as she walked away to her chair in the corner. Having had such a rotten start to the day, Abby wasn't particularly in the mood for discovery. She should just hunker down in her chair and wait for her shift to end, just like everyone else.
But it was really hard to ignore pleasure in the machine, being the only major piece left in the room. No matter which way she looked, her gaze kept drifting back to the artwork in the centre of the room. Needing some activity, she climbed the stairs up to the control room to check out the piece more thoroughly, but she could not see much from her vantage point, other than that there appeared to be another hole on top of the sculpture through which she could only see vague shapes.
Perhaps it had to do with the stark whiteness of the piece which made it difficult to see what was inside the thing, she thought as she made her way back down to the floor. She sat down again, and tried to concentrate on other things, but apart from a surprisingly minor unease over what had transpired with Craig, she found her thoughts drifting back to pleasure in the machine.
What was it about it that she found so interesting? Abby couldn't say, and for someone who prided herself on being level-headed, it rankled. She approached it once more, and circled it twice. Again and again, the sudden sparkle caught her eye, all around the sculpture, except... she looked hard into the open space and saw that it curved slightly upwards and into the sculpture. Beyond that, she could see nothing else.
She turned to walk away again, but this time, the pull of her curiosity was too strong. She turned back before she managed to take four steps, and marched right up to the opening. She was going to have a look. After all, maybe someone dropped a diamond into the thing, but because it was so convoluted, no one thought to try to retrieve it?
"Yeah, right," she said sarcastically to herself. "And pigs are flying right at this moment." The echoes of her voice kept her company as she studied the opening more closely. "I can fit into that, but I don't know how far I'll be able to go," she mused. "I wonder..."
She moved to her right and left, saw the sparkle again, and made up her mind. She was going in. But she would have to remove her boots and belt because she was afraid the leather would leave marks on the pure white surface of the sculpture. As she tossed them aside, she also thought to remove her watch, in case it scratched the material.
She looked at the hole again, and decided that it would be best not to risk tearing or otherwise messing up her uniform. The chief was most particular about the appearances of his guards. Abby went to the door, locked it, and then went over to the control room and switched off the tape. It wouldn't do for anyone to see how she would be going into pleasure in the machine. Then, she went over to the area next to the hole in the sculpture and proceeded to remove her clothing.
Standing in her underwear, she realized that the room was not as cold as she thought. Perhaps the spotlights were making the area warm, she thought, as she surveyed the gap. Then she remembered that she had put on her newest and nicest lace underwear in the morning. "I'm not gonna risk ripping them on that thing," she thought.
Abby quickly removed her panties and bra, hoping to satisfy her curiosity quickly before anyone suspected anything untoward. Shrugging aside the last nagging doubts in her mind, she walked up to pleasure in the machine, reached up to grab the edges of the hole, and boosted herself into the narrow gap.
She found she had to wriggle to even get her upper body in, and as she squirmed into the space, she noted that her nipples had hardened into little knots. Maybe it had something to do with the feel of the stone on her bare skin. It was smooth like marble, but the moist ridges and knobs pressing up against her felt... obscene. It felt as if dozens of men were feeling her up, placing their hands on her naked body. She worked her way onwards, determined not to let the unsettling sensations get the better of her.
The tightest fit was her ass, which threatened to jam at the opening. For a single moment, she felt panic... it would not do for her to be found like this, with her bare ass sticking out of one of the museum's prime pieces. And she could imagine what the guy who found her would do to her while she was helpless. She forced away the thought of someone she couldn't see exploring her nether regions while she was jammed halfway into the sculpture. The image was so real she could even feel the hardness pressing at the slot of her exposed sex, now cleanly shaven for the unappreciative Craig.
Then she realized that she was inside the sculpture, and the hardness at her crotch was one of the many ridges that made up the inside of the tunnel she was crawling into.
Abby wriggled her way further into the tunnel, which seemed to be closing in on her. Now it felt as though there were bodies pressing against hers, violating her nudity with her every movement.
Panic was beginning to set in. What if she became trapped within the sculpture? What would the chief say? Would he try to take advantage of her? She shuddered at the thought of having to make love to the fat balding chief. It would probably take her several years of therapy to get over that!
She was thus relieved to work herself into a larger space in the centre of the sculpture that she had not managed to observe from outside the structure. Getting her arms free, she hauled the top half of her body out of the grasping tunnel, ignoring the sensations at her breasts as the ridges seemed to grope at them. As her breasts sprang free, she heaved a sigh of relief, and bending forward to take her weight on her arms, she moved to draw the rest of her body out into the open space. As she did so, her pubis ground upwards into the roof of the tunnel, sending little tremors across her belly as several knobs rubbed up against her already moistened vulva.
"Oooh," she moaned softly as she pulled herself out, dragging her squelching sex against the unyielding stone. She dropped onto the floor of the sculpture, trying to catch her breath. Although it could not have cost her too much effort, she was sweating all over, and she could even smell the musk of her vagina while she was lying on her side with her knees drawn up to her aching chest. Despite her situation, lying naked in the middle of a sculpture while her colleagues went about their duties on the floor above her, she was wet... she was so wet she could feel the liquid trickling down the inside of her thigh.
She reached down between her legs and felt her denuded labia -- although she would not admit it aloud, she liked the way her pubis felt, clean of its wiry hair -- they felt swollen and distended, and the deep split between them was so sensitive it was almost painful to touch. Just pressing on the fleshy sides of her vulva caused more of her fluid to leak out, and she winced. "I hope it doesn't leave a stain," she thought, realizing that a tiny puddle had formed under her trembling pelvis. "Then again, no one will probably be crazy enough to try to get in here," she consoled herself.
After recovering some composure, Abby tried to lever herself into a more comfortable and upright position. It was no easy task, for the space she found herself in was cramped and just a little too small, even for a five-foot-three woman whose friends constantly made jokes about her having to buy her clothes from the children's section.
After much grunting and pushing, she managed to get herself into a somewhat upright position, with her upper body bent over the lip of two protruding ledges that could have passed for laps. The impression was heightened by a large protruding column that could not be mistaken for anything other than a penis -- its tip was distinctively capped like the head of a very impressive cock.
She had gasped when she first saw it -- it was huge, and it made her wonder if there was any man who was similarly so well-endowed -- but it also served its purpose in helping her along. She had used it to pull herself up over the first 'lap', although she had squirmed a little when she first grasped it -- it felt warm and not too dissimilar to the real thing.
So here she was, bent across stone laps, her naked ass sticking upwards as she finally saw the source of the sparkle. It was some sort of polished mirror-like surface at the very centre of the piece. She couldn't call it a mirror because it was so clear and besides, it had a slightly yellowish tint. Perhaps it had something to do with the spotlighting, but she had never seen a mirror sparkle like this.
She reached down to touch it -- maybe it was a sheet of diamond or something like that -- but was unable to reach it. She pushed herself forward and managed to feel it with the palm of her hand, but as she did so, she slipped. Her legs banged painfully against the sides of the enclosure, and her butt pressed upwards at the roof. She could not put aside the sensation of having her buttocks kneaded and pressed by the surrounding stone.
She struggled to regain her balance, rubbing her buttocks harder against the stone in the process... this time she would swear that the stone was groping her backside, lovingly spreading her cheeks and rubbing the sensitive bud of her anus and her aching slit.
The reflective surface was flat and cool, and she could suddenly see in it the gap at the top. "Great, a way out!" she thought. She felt a trace of disappointment at not having found her "treasure", but was more relieved that she would not have to negotiate the same tunnel she had used to come in. If she could get out through the top, she would save her body from being 'mauled' by the cool stone again.
Abby slowly turned about in the confined space, ignoring the way her surroundings clung to her skin, rubbing and caressing, pressing and kneading tender flesh. It was unnerving, yet strangely erotic, she admitted to herself.
Finally, she found herself squatting on the 'laps'. She managed to lodge herself in the space between the stone phallus and the side (which felt suspiciously like a muscled torso against her bare backside) and looked up at her escape route. The cool stone lying against her smooth pussy was seductive, to say the least, and she had to quell the urge to rub her vulva up against it.
As it was, she could feel the liquid running out of her gash and down the length of the thing. "If they clean the inside of this thing, they'll find lots of my DNA in here," she thought, and the thought both excited and appalled her.
She looked up again at her intended exit, judging the distance and the width of the gap she had to pass through. While she prepared to thrust herself up towards the top of the thing, she suddenly looked down and saw that the mirrored surface was positioned just perfectly for her to see the entire length of the cock shielding her pussy, pressed up behind the enormous head. Seeing it in the reflection, she realized how large it was, and had a fleeting wonder: "Can I take something that large into my pussy?"
The thought made her knees weak for a moment, but it passed quickly. Flexing her muscles (which pressed her buttocks hard against the rippled back wall) she pushed upwards with her thighs. As she did so, she felt the stone laps give a little and heard a distinct click followed by a whirring sound. Then the sculpture around her began to rumble and vibrate as the sculpture moved.
"Shit, what's going on?" she screamed, watching as the hole above her slowly closed. She tried desperately to reach up to press it back with her hands but to no avail -- the stone roof pressed together like a closing mouth, forcing her back onto her haunches. As she did so, she realized that the stone phallus between her thighs had also moved -- now the head was perfectly positioned at the entrance to her vagina.