Like a bright yellow UFO,(which it had been mistaken for on numerous occasions), the Flying Sub flew swiftly along the track projected by Seaview's Navigator. Captain Crane had chosen Chief Petty Officer Sharkey and Seamen Patterson and Kowalski to accompany him on the flight. Not really knowing what to expect, they had loaded up with small arms and flak vests, just in case. Miles behind them now, Seaview steamed ahead at maximum reactor power, under command of her XO, Chip Morton, with Admiral Nelson overseeing. The only landmass on the track was a small volcanic rock pile in the middle of nowhere, labeled 'Isla del Oro' on the charts. It should have been uninhabited, but could also offer the perfect place for a hideout.
"Any contacts, Patterson?" Crane asked.
"No sir, nothing on RADAR, nothing being radiated on the EM spectrum, either." Scanning his instruments, Patterson didn't even bother to look up.
Crane was holding the manta-shaped flying sub at a fairly high altitude, to give them maximum spotting distance for any ship contacts. "Well if someone is out here, they are certainly not going to advertise their presence. We'll probably have to hold out for a visual contact."
"Yes, but they puts us pretty damn close in case they start taking pot shots at us, Sir." Chief Sharkey said gruffly.
"We'll just have to be ready to bug out. We should have visual contact with the island any second. Everyone keep a sharp lookout."
Nemo strolled casually down a long corridor, whistling the theme from 'Goldfinger', while stopping every so often to admire one of his masterpieces. He stopped in front of a particularly lithe young girl, gilded in an energetic dance pose, wearing a micro-mini and knee-hi go-go boots. Her long, straight hair was flung out to one side as her head turned in the opposite direction. Pointing forward with a "No-No-No" raised right index finger, her left hand rested on an upturned, curvy hip. As Nemo caressed her gold booted leg, he changed his tune to 'These Boots Are Made For Walking'.
A crackling static interrupted him, and he pulled a small walkie-talkie from his breast pocket. Even this small communicator was overlaid with ornate gold designs, making it look more like a 19th century brooch than a functional device.
"Herr Nemo, zis is Feldwebel Steiner." the crackling radio voice spoke.
"Yes sergeant, what is it?"
"Ve haff picked up some airborne RADAR incoming, und it is of military origin, definitely Amerikaner in manufacture. I cannot ascertain zee ekzact aircraft type. Shall I go active und commence tracking?"
"No, lets let them get a little closer. Begin powering up the EMP capacitor banks, however, and bring them down if they get too close."
"Jawohl, Herr Nemo."
"Oh, and Steiner, has the Major reported any progress on the girls?"
"Ja, zee Sturmbahnfuhrer (Nemo had long ago given up trying to stop the Germans from using their old ranks) reports zat zey haff almost all of zem under control und awaiting prozessing, wis about 50% completed. Zere are a few girls who haff shtill not taken zee formula, und a squad of Sturmtruppen is rounding zem up now."
"A pity, the easy way is so much nicer for them." Nemo tisk tisked. "Tell Major Hoffman I will be in the workshop post-haste. And, tell him not to get in a hurry in completing the girls, and to stick to the styles I laid out. After all, you can't rush fine art."
"Jawohl, Herr Nemo, I undershtand and vill obey. Steiner out."
Nemo tucked the communicator away, and walked jauntily on, now whistling the theme to 'Solid Gold'.
Crane guided the sub towards the volcanic island, jutting from the azure surface of the ocean like a blackened witches tooth.
Patterson reported once again "Looks quiet, no volcanic activity, no RADAR or radio emissions. Except..."
"Yes?" Crane asked
"Well, I'm picking up a broadband radio static, like a big transformer or a coil would give off."
"Hard to tell, could be natural, happens sometimes with tectonic plate movement, or large underground lava flows with lots of metal content."
"Keep tracking it," Crane replied tersely. "Let me know if anything changes." The Island filled the forward view screen now, and Crane goosed the throttle column as he prepared to bring her in low for a high-speed pass.
"OK, here we go, we'll make one run at max speed so we can tear out if anyone decides to use us for target practice."
The small yellow craft streaked across the island, and in the split second they crossed, Crane glimpsed a large lake, with what appeared to be a small medieval tower at one end.
"Did you see that?"
"Sure did, Skipper" Sharkey answered. "Some kind o' broken down ruins."
"Nothing sir, still just that low frequency static."
"Very well, lets make a slower pass, and get a better look" he replied, backing down on the throttles and putting the ship in a wide bank.
"Herr Nemo!" The walkie-talkie interrupted Nemo again, just as he was about to enter a wide set of double doors, flanked by twin gilded nudes, arms outstretched above them like diving trophies.
"Yes, what is it Steiner?"
"Mein Herr, zee craft just overflew us at high speed, und is banking around for anuzzer pass, much slower zis time."
"Good, bring them down when they are low over the island, so they will not have a chance to radio back. And Steiner, what type of aircraft is it?"
"I..cannot tell. It is yellow, and shaped like a disc. I have never seen one like it before. It is not in Jane's."
"Well, well bring it down, and send a squad to pick up any survivors, do not kill them."
"Pick them up?", Steiner sounded puzzled.
"Yes, I am most interested in speaking to these particular men."
"Jawohl Her Nemo."
"Most interested." he said to himself, stroking his goatee.
Tyra awoke with a start, not remembering for a moment where she was. She lifted her head groggily from the plush velour couch she had dozed off on, and looked around the hall. It was empty. "What, where the hell is everybody?"
The couch faced into a small alcove, and effectively hid her from view from the hall.
"I can't remember how to get to my damn room, " she thought, dismayed. She hopped to her feet, slipped on her shoes, and made her way into one of the dark corridors. The only sound she heard was the click of her own mules and the swish of her nylon covered legs rubbing together as she walked. After travelling for a few minutes, taking several turns, she came to a broad room with many golden statues, and equally as many empty pedestals. Some of the figures gave her an odd feeling of deja vu that she couldn't quite put her finger on. They were in assorted poses, some sexual, some artsy nudes, many in various states of undress. Some even had costumes, like Playboy Bunnies, cheerleaders, showgirls, cowgirls, etc. She didn't have time to examine any closely when she heard a rumbling at the end of the hall, and she instinctively ducked behind a pedestal.
Four of Nemo's men appeared, pushing a truck cart that held a golden statue of a Japanese girl in a high necked silk dress. The men joked with one another in German and manhandled the statue onto a pedestal, after coating the statue's soles with some kind of pasty goo. They held it for a minute, and then one man said "Gute" and they walked away, taking the cart with them. There was something wrong with the statue, something that gave Tyra a cold chill. She dazedly walked up to it, trying to decide what it was that bothered her. The figure had one leg extended through the slit of the dress, and light gleamed beautifully off of it, the pose drawing attention to the perfect golden gam, so that it was several seconds until she looked upwards to the swan like neck and upturned head. The statue's hands were pressed together and caressing the underside of its chin, which reminded Tyra of an Ivory Soap magazine ad. She had to step back again to see the figures eyes. "That's it!" she thought. Although closed, Tyra could tell that the eyes were the rounded ovals of a European, and lacked the epicanthic folds of an Asian. the hair was done up nicely in an elegant gold bun, held in place by a gaudy butterfly clip. Buttery fly clip...
"L...Liz?" She opened her mouth to scream, but a hand slipped over her and stifled it.
She spun around, only to find herself staring into the eyes of her friend Cindy. "Oh my god, Oh my god!" Tyra said over and over.
"Shhh, they'll find us." Cindy cautioned. "They come back every five or ten minutes with another one."
"I know its.. horrible. I already saw Claudia, Rebecca, and some others get brought in."
Tyra looked around, and recognized the Nordic features of a nude figure reclining on a low pedestal, holding a gilded drink with a little umbrella in it. "Oh my god, Stephanie..."
"Yes, we've got to get out of here! I saw a bunch of men go by earlier, dressed like soldiers. Nazi soldiers! I... we've got to go before they find us!" she said, her eyes tearing up.
They stumbled towards a corridor, realizing too late that they were heading in the direction the men had come from. They heard the sound of the cart heading right at them, when Cindy spotted a narrow doorway off to the side, with steep stairs leading upwards. "This way!" she said, pulling Tyra upwards into the darkness.
Crane peered out the front screen at the tower. It appeared to be an old, abandoned Spanish ruin, until he caught the glint of glass in one of the window openings. Glass in a old Spanish tower?
"Cap'n, that static EM, its building up in frequency and power! I..." Patterson began
Crane had already started to bank away when silence struck. No lights, no engine noise. Silence.
"What the hell!" Crane wrestled with the unresponsive control column.
"Electromagnetic Pulse, Sir, a huge one! Everything's dead, no power, no hydraulics!" Kowalski called out.
Crane manhandled the column, trying to get the Flying Sub to flatten out into a glide. Luckily, the flying Sub had hydraulic assisted control surfaces instead of Fly-By-Wire, so Crane was still able to position the rudder and elevators, albeit with tremendous physical effort. Unluckily, the flying sub had the glide characteristics of a set of car keys. Chief Sharkey grabbed the co-pilots set of controls and together, the two men were able to flatten out the subs dive just before it pancaked onto the surface of the lake with a loud bang, knocking the crew of the ill fated craft unconscious.
Tyra and Cindy found themselves in a large alcove, like a balcony, overlooking some kind of work area, for they could hear the noises of large machinery, hisses of air jets, and the occasional sound of jovial men's laughter. They crept towards the rail, and both models gasped in shock at the vista before them.
It was like a scene out of some crazed pervert's view of Santa's workshop, with dozens of elves working on various toys. Except these men weren't elves, and they were diligently working on turning beautiful women into golden statues.
At one end, a long line of about 40 of the models stood, some nude, some partially clothed, most standing at attention. Some were lying on the floor, moaning as they pleasured themselves, and in a few rare cases, pleasured other girls. At the head of the line, a man stood holding a clipboard and directing other men to lead the models to various stations. The next girl in line, Chloe, was lying on the floor with legs spread wide, nude, with one hand caressing her massive chest, and the other one three fingers deep into her blond pubic bush. She was moaning like a dairy cow in heat, and it took two men to pull her up and lead her towards a clear plastic booth on one wall. Chloe was continually trying to fondle the men and unzip their pants, and they were laughing as they put her on a small, stainless steel cart and pushed her into the booth. She immediately forgot the two men, and returned to pleasuring herself, oblivious to what was going on around her. She was propped up on her right elbow, with that hand cupping her right breast, and the left one once again finding its way back to her crotch. Her left leg was extended straight out, with the right one was bent slightly, arched toes pointing back 90 degrees. Suddenly there was a whoosh, and a cloud of steam seemed to erupt from a large pipe extending into the Plexiglas booth. Tyra's first thought was that they were cooking her, but, when the cloud of vapor cleared, she saw that Chloe was locked in her last pose, with a layer of hoary white frost forming rapidly on her as the booth was opened, The men put on bulky gloves and pulled the girl's cart out, the frozen solid beauty teetering atop it. Chloe was literally steaming, like a Popsicle pulled straight out of the freezer on a hot day. The men quickly hooked the leads from an overhead crane to the four corners of the cart, and one man raised a forefinger straight upwards, making a circling motion. The winch of the crane started revolving, and hoisted the frosty Playmate upwards, revealing her to be laid out on a large piece of wire mesh. As she was whisked away, the men laid a new piece of mesh on the cart, and guided another beauty onto it.
The two Ubermodels stared in fascinated horror as the crane traversed across the room, over workers busy at other stations, and across a large clear partition that blocked off one half of the room. There, Tyra saw the blast of heat waves emanating upwards from a large vat of bubbling, golden metal. As she stared, speechless, the crane operator wasted no time in smoothly dipping the suspended, super-cooled girl into the bubbling vat. After a few seconds (Tyra could see the man in the crane booth looking at his watch), The crane was swiftly raised. At first, it was hard to make out anything, with liquid gold streaming from the nude figure like an iridescent fountain. This soon dissipated, however, revealing Chloe dangling like a giant, erotic, golden Christmas ornament, every feature preserved in a thin coat of precious metal. The operator quickly moved her to a long rack, which had a few other girls, in various poses, dangling from it. Some men took control of the gilded beauty, and carefully unhooked her, wearing bulky gloves similar to those used by the freezing men. They placed her on the "cooling rack", and directed a fan on her golden figure.
Meanwhile, others men were directing women towards another area. In one location, men had large roll around racks of clothing, and were dressing some girls in various outfits. At first, Tyra thought there were two statues already standing in the area, but they moved out of their military 'attention' pose and began to stiffly, almost robotically, assist the men in dressing two of the women. The un-gilded women were also moving in the same manner, responding to a few commands barked by the men. The two subject girls were clad only in shiny, suntan tights, and the gold-painted women began to help them put on further clothing. Tyra didn't recognize the two golden helpers, but the dark haired girl was a Playmate... Shae something, she seemed to recall. The blond was one of her fellow Angels, a German girl named Heidi. Shae was being dressed in some kind of skimpy one piece red, white and blue outfit, with gold trim. Only after she was helped into red high heeled boots and a golden lasso placed at her waist did Tyra recognize the get-up as a Wonder Woman costume. The two golden girls placed the finishing touches on Shae, by placing gold bands at her wrists, and a golden tiara in her hair. One of the men then guided the groggy beauty into the classic hands-on-hips superhero stance, and adjusted the golden American Eagle bustier to reveal a little more of her massive cleavage. Heidi was more quickly dressed, in orange short shorts, and a white tee-shirt with some kind of logo on it. White low cut socks and sneakers completed the outfit, and one of the men stared at her thoughtfully for a moment, before retrieving a large platter from a bin of props. He placed the platter high overhead in her right hand, with the other counterpoised on her hip. The opposite, shiny nylon clad leg was raised, so that the foot was tucked in at knee height. She looked like a curvy female version of the Big Boy from the restaurant chain, and Tyra suddenly realized where she had seen that outfit before. The men wheeled carts up to the posed and stiff girls, and began spraying them with a gold mist from handheld guns. After a few minutes of slow, deliberate work, with extra time spent on the hair, the girls, and their outfits, were completely gilded from top to bottom. One of the men activated a handheld device, that seemed to have no visible effect. Some more men came in and tilted the girls' platforms back onto hand trucks, and wheeled the luscious, golden Wonder Woman and Hooters trophies out of the room. Tyra and Cindy stared on, too shocked to move.
Down on the floor, Nemo was having a conversation with the clipboard man.
"Ah, Major, how goes it?"
"Very good, sir." the Major replied in cultured English. "We have all of the girls except three here now. The overhead crane operator has just reported Miss Banks and Miss Crawford to be in the balcony above us, and a squad has moved in behind them. Miss Campbell is still at large, but the men spotted her moving towards the northwest wall, apparently trying to leave the grounds."
"Well, we'll just have to do a rescue before any of my pets get her! Have a Liquid 'N' truck meet me at the land bridge across the swamp, that's the only way she can escape. This is most excellent!" Nemo rubbed his hands together gleefully.
"I'd been hoping for the opportunity to get an action pose. Anything else new, Major?"
"Yes, the tower watch reports that they downed the aircraft, and dispatched a squad to recover. It may take some time, as the craft plunged into the water, and no survivors appeared on the surface."
"I would not be so sure. that ship was meant to survive underwater." Nemo responded thoughtfully.
"An aircraft? Underwater? That can only mean..."
"Yes, the illustrious Admiral Nelson and his Seaview. A most Worthy adversary for the Nautilus!"
" I hope not too worthy." Hoffman sounded concerned.
"Posh. Don't worry, we can handle them. I just want to see the look on Nelson's face when I've beaten him! How's that new machine working?"
"We had a short earlier, but Gefreiter Schulz has just been able to fix it. The artists are preparing the first subject now."
Several 'artists' were standing to one side of an elevator apparatus, on the side of a large pool of water. The men were rubbing a thin layer of oil all over a nude, voluptuous brunette's body. She cooed softly at the attention, and rubbed her own sides and chest, until the men had her glistening from head to toe. "Ahh, Carmen, Nemo said, walking up to her. let me see.." He moved her hands into a position, and said, "Carmen, you have no desire to move. you will stay in whatever pose I put you in."
Inside, Carmen knew only two things. Desire, and obedience. Nemo placed one hand behind her back, and one behind her head. Her left leg was angled outwards, replicating a famous pin-up pose of hers, only this time she was oily and nude, instead of wearing fishnets and a leather corset. "Perfection!" Nemo exclaimed.
He stepped away, and allowed the men to move her onto the elevator, which lowered her beneath the water.
Carmen thought briefly about breathing, but a warm numbness seemed to spread through her, followed by a vibration that reached down to the very core of her being. She drifted off on clouds of orgasmic energy, like her entire body had become part of a giant pleasure machine.
"We are at max voltage on the electrodes, Herr Nemo." Hoffman said, staring at several LCD readouts.
Nemo peered into the clear water, and watched as Carmen took on a decidedly golden sheen. "That was genius, Major, coming up with that conductive gel."
"It was nothing," the major shrugged. "Electricity is just a little hobby of mine."
It was obvious now that the lovely model was completely gilded, so the current was shut off and the elevator rose slowly, revealing a nude, golden body, like a precious metal version of Botticelli's Venus rising from the sea. "Ah, my beauty, so golden!" Nemo stepped up to rub his hands along the hard, golden curves of her body. "The lack of oxygen and electricity put her completely in stasis, just as we predicted."
"Yes, and it seems quicker and less cumbersome than the cryro- freeze needed to protect the girls from the excessive heat of the molten gold."
"Yes, but, I have a certain fondness for the dipping." Nemo responded wistfully. "You certainly picked an appropriate subject for this first test!
"Yes, Sir. Carmen Electra-plated!" Hoffman laughed at his own joke.
Nemo clapped Hoffman on the shoulder, and all the artists in the area
laughed along with them.
Stay tuned for the exciting conclusion...