Olivia’s Enchantment

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Standing under a streetlight at the park’s edge, I stare down eight of my soon-to-be sorority sisters before gazing at Bridget, the quintessential platinum blonde with a mystifying disdain for my existence. I tuck a wayward strand of brown hair behind my ear as my yellow sundress flutters in the late evening breeze.

“So,” I begin, crossing my arms over my chest, “if I do this, I’m in, right? I can skip all the other nonsense?”

Bridget rolls her eyes. “Olivia, I would hardly refer to a century of Petra Phi traditions as nonsense. You are correct, though. If you do this, you’re in. However, nobody has ever succeeded in—”

She stops mid-sentence as I kick off my flip-flops, pull my sundress over my head, and toss it to her. Bridget glances at the crumpled garment in her hands and then stares at me.

I wear only glasses and a smile. The full moon overhead illuminates my bare skin like a spotlight.

“Please continue, Bridget. I’m listening.”

Bridget raises an eyebrow, looking me up and down. The park is rather busy on a Friday evening, and my nudity soon attracts a small crowd. Within thirty seconds, a dozen people are recording me on their phones. The hint of a smile crosses Bridget’s lips before quickly vanishing.

“You don’t need to be naked for this, Olivia.”

I shrug. “Yeah, I know, but nudity puts me at ease. Few situations in life aren’t improved by shedding one’s clothes. That’s my philosophy.”

“Sure, whatever. As I was saying, nobody has ever completed this challenge. Only seven women have attempted it. Sophia was never seen again. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Absolutely! Bring it on.”

“Very well,” Bridget replies. “The park is one square mile of woods. You have a one-minute head start and must elude capture for one hour. If you succeed, we will welcome you to Petra Phi. If you fail, you will be banned for life. Any questions?”

“No, sounds good to me.”

“All right, Olivia. Your head start begins now. Good luck.”

I smile before turning and dashing into the woods. The crowd cheers, no doubt filming my bare ass disappearing in the thick foliage. I make a mental note to check the video-sharing sites in the morning. I might be famous by then.

Once the sisters of Petra Phi are out of sight, I veer hard left, running a half mile to one of the park’s corners. They’ll no doubt expect me to run straight to the center, so this should buy me some time. I crouch behind a tree and wait.

Too soon, I hear voices from the edge of the park. Apparently, I didn’t give the sisters enough credit, as they’ve adopted some sort of grid search. Flashlight beams sweep back and forth through the trees.

“Shit,” I whisper to myself. “Bridget didn’t say anything about flashlights.”

Taking care to avoid unwanted illumination, I sneak deeper into the woods.


A few minutes later, I stumble upon a small, squarish clearing about fifty feet across. While it’s a break in the leafy canopy, it’s hardly empty. A dozen lifesize nude statues in various poses stand, kneel, or recline on stone pedestals throughout the open area. Moonlight illuminates their smooth marble skin, giving them an ethereal or otherwordly appearance.

Aside from their nakedness, the statues share another characteristic. Their poses are all unabashedly erotic. The figure nearest to me is a man kneeling and grasping the base of his erect penis as he throws his head back and screams into the night. The woman standing on the next pedestal squeezes her breast with one hand while three fingers of her other hand are buried within her womanhood. Her eyes are closed in silent ecstasy.

I’ve explored these woods a dozen times, including yesterday when I scoped out hiding places for this evening’s chase. How have I never come across this grove before? Judging by the moss growing on the statues, they’ve been here for years.

My pondering of the mysterious art exhibit is cut short by flashlight beams closing in from every direction at once.

“Aww, fuck,” I mutter. “Now what?”

It’s too late to run, and there’s nowhere to hide in this—

An empty stone pedestal catches my eye. I’m officially out of other options to prolong the hunt, so hiding in plain sight is my only hope. I dash to the round platform, quickly kneeling and facing the other statues. I’m reminded of the X-rated nature of the collection and realize I’ll need to blend in to have any hope of avoiding detection.

When in Rome, right?

I grab my bare breasts, hoping that will be enough to hide among my new stone friends. As I try to calm my breathing and stay perfectly still, a sense of peace and tranquility washes over me. It’s like I’m finally home. The feeling soon passes, replaced by another more pressing sensation.

I am aroused.

And not just in my hopelessly horny brain. I am physically aroused by my erotic pose, my doomed attempt to blend in with a bunch of dirty statues, and my impending discovery in such a provocative pose.

If only I could be one of these statues! In my desperation to win, I will myself to be stone.

A sudden chill from the pedestal travels up my naked body. My arousal escalates. Without any conscious thought, I open my mouth as my tongue lolls over my lips in an utterly shameless display.

I should be mortified, but I no longer care. I wish only for the cool embrace of stone. I am still.

All eight sorority sisters enter the clearing, converging in the center of the statue collection. I realize with alarm that I still have my glasses on. Shit! Statues don’t wear glasses! It’s too late to fix the oversight, so I hope against hope they won’t notice.

“Any sign of her?” Bridget asks the others.

They shake their heads, avoiding eye contact with their abrasive leader. Bridget clenches her fists.

“Look,” she begins, “that naked psycho is not joining Petra Phi, end of story. We will find her, one way or another. Search the clearing for bare footprints. She must be nearby.”

They split up and wander among the pedestals, thankfully shining their flashlights at the ground rather than the statues.

“I found some!” exclaims one of them, pointing at the illuminated dirt before her.

Some of the others make similar discoveries. One thing becomes painfully evident as the sisters retrace my steps. They will lead directly to my pedestal.

Not good.

Bridget follows the imprints around the various platforms before stopping before me. Flanked by the other sisters, she slowly sweeps her flashlight up my nude body and shines it directly in my face.

“What the fuck?” she remarks, her brow furrowed. “This one has glasses on. Since when do statues wear glasses?” She narrows her eyes. “That freak is toying with us! I don’t care how you all do it. Just find her! Go!”

The others scatter, flashlight beams wheeling haphazardly through the trees as they charge back into the woods.

Bridget stays behind, her flashlight still shining on my face.

“I hate to admit it,” she begins, “but you look quite sexy, Olivia.”

Wait, what?

I try to break my pose and run away, but my body doesn’t respond. Bridget turns with her flashlight and illuminates the female statue three fingers deep in its stone vagina.

“Even sexier than Sophia here, if I’m being honest,” Bridget continues. “You’ve chosen wisely, Olivia, which is fortunate, given how long you’ll hold that pose. Would you like to know how long you’ll be staying here?”

She steps closer until her face is an inch from mine, her hot breath fogging my glasses.

“Forever.”

I expect my heart to skip a beat but realize it stopped a while ago. I’m not breathing, either. I should feel terrified, angry, betrayed, or any other of many emotions, but I don’t. Strangely, I bask in the same sense of peace and tranquility I had when I first climbed onto the pedestal. The truth of my life is clear.

I am meant to be a statue. I belong here in this grove.

Forever.

Bridget switches off her flashlight and sets it on my pedestal before gazing into my blank marble eyes. She cups my hardened breasts with her soft hands. Something stirs inside my still body.

“I’m glad things turned out the way they did, Olivia. It’s been too long since I added anyone to my collection of ex-boyfriends, romantic rivals, or otherwise inconvenient people.”

Bridget’s index fingers circle my areolas, feeling the tiny bumps like she’s reading Braille. An unexpected sensation begins to overwhelm my heightened senses.

“The realism of my statues never ceases to amaze me. Every subtle detail is perfectly preserved in marble. Even the most intimate details.”

Her left hand tweaks my stone nipple while her right hand slides down my smooth abdomen and brushes lightly over my marble labia. My mind nearly shatters from the sudden onslaught of pleasure.

“In another life, we might have been lovers, Olivia. We could have spent countless romantic evenings doing this.”

Bridget leans in, plunging her warm tongue inside my hardened mouth as she skillfully massages my stone folds. I’m immediately gripped by the most powerful orgasm of my life. My consciousness dissolves in a roiling sea of ecstasy.


When my awareness returns, Bridget has composed herself and is talking about something. I have no idea how long I’ve been out.

“…which gives your enchantment its unimaginable power. But I’ve droned on long enough about the boring details of your hopeless predicament. All that matters is you’re mine forever, Olivia. Enjoy your new life.”

With a final gaze into my marble eyes, Bridget switches her flashlight on and walks away.

“We’ll chat again soon,” she calls over her shoulder before disappearing into the woods.

All is still and silent. I’m alone with Sophia and the other statues, just a collection of stone figures illuminated by pale moonlight. I ponder Bridget’s parting words.

We’ll chat again soon.

I shudder inside my marble body. If our next chat is as hands-on as this one, it will be worth the wait.

Copyright 2025 Olivia Zoe Quinn

Top photo by Mike L on Unsplash

Custom art by Ferenand


Story notes

While all my stories explore my fantasies, there’s still a little distance between the author and the characters. Writing something that is a true self-insert with a character named Olivia, not to mention the accompanying nude art of me, is another level of literary vulnerability. Whether this is the start of a trend remains to be seen.

Thanks to TyrannosaurusPrime for commissioning the art, Ferenand for bringing me to life, and bjork42 for his expert feedback on drafts of this story. You guys rock!


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Olivia Zoe Quinn lives in rural Idaho and works as a freelance editor for fiction and non-fiction. When she’s not wielding her red pen, you’ll probably find her skiing, playing disc golf, or curling up with a cup of tea and a good book. Olivia is the Editor-in-Chief of Stone Cold Stories and an Associate Editor at Rock Hard Press and GAZMYK. Olivia is the author of an upcoming sci-fi erotica novel due out in 2025.

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