Gorgon Golf
Chapter 1 – Grand Opening

by Dmuk

Ginger was driving fast along the wide boulevard; maybe a bit too fast. She loved the breeze as it played over her trim body. On a sticky-hot day like today the wind whipping around her open, doorless, Jeep 4x4 felt especially good on her exposed legs and midriff. Not that she was worried about sweating; the sheen of perspiration that glossed her tanned figure provided a cooling tingle whenever she sped away from a stoplight or a slowdown in traffic. Besides, she thought, the feeling reminded her of having sex. Many things did. Finding some arousal in everyday actions was a kind of hobby of hers, one she pursued with a delightful dedication. Even on the road. Driving one-handed, she stroked her warm crotch idly, almost causing several near accidents in the bargain.

Uncommitted for the first time in months, alone, Ginger was on the prowl today. She did not plan on remaining alone that night, for she was a very beautiful young woman who loved to make love. Considering her physical body as sensual instrument, she spared little effort in striving for perfection whether that meant daily workouts or another visit to her favorite plastic surgeon for additional fine-tuning of her – by now – stunning face and figure. She had even them change the color of her eyes!

Wearing what she whimsically called her ‘hunting kit,’ a provocative outfit which featured a pair of skin-tight satiny yellow hip-hugger hot pants so bright they almost glowed in the dark. A sheer pink Lycra sleeveless halter top coated the curves of her bosom and showed off the firm knobs of her nipples clearly. Her feet were laced into a pair of white platform high-heeled sandals that were difficult to drive in but did marvelous things to her legs. Ginger was utterly dazzling in appearance. Almost anywhere else she might have been taken for a streetwalker; here along this beach she was only another gorgeous girl out for some sun or some evening action. Her breathtaking fashion statement proved again to be a ‘rousing’ success in making her more eye-catching, as she could tell from the almost constant whistles and catcalls that followed her passage. One car, full of teenage boys, stuck to her like glue before she switched lanes and left them back in traffic. Even now, waiting patiently at the light, she could feel the stares of the nearby men as they ogled her openly. This was, after all, the effect she had worked so hard to create and promote. Ginger liked being the center of everyone’s attention and especially liked to tease them with possibilities…

The light changed to green and her lane started more slowly than the others. Alongside, a middle-aged man in a European convertible also waited casually, staring keenly at Ginger while trying to appear to be bored, even though the rest of the cars had driven off already. Married for sure, she thought, eyeing him askance, but maybe willing to fool around some; or was he looking for a new mistress? A raucous blat of horns from the two cars back, the teenagers, shattered whatever erotic fantasy he had been lost in and rattled his decorum enough that he stalled the engine in haste. Ginger could not keep a straight face any longer; she started to giggle as she sped off, leaving him in the dust. ‘Aahh,’ she exclaimed as the breeze picked up once more, ‘that feels Goood!’.

It was early in the afternoon. Too early to hit the clubs yet. Her skates were in the back; she toyed with the idea of spending the rest of the day at the promenade where she knew many great looking guys hung out. Ginger had prowled there often, and never yet walked away empty-handed, but something made her skip the turnoff and keep driving down the strip. Shops and attractions lined the wide street in a garish pageant; the discordant sprawl of a tourist trap city. She thought of doing some window-shopping, maybe trying on a few new thong bikinis, but the momentum and the wind carried her onward. Her fate lay elsewhere this day. Eventually the buildings started to thin out and were replaced by frequent real estate signs. The outskirts of town. Even the palm trees planted in the median began to get shorter and younger before completely disappearing.

In this borderland between shops and scrub, Ginger began looking for a place to turn around when she saw a fresh set of banners a few hundred feet ahead on her side of the road. On a lark, she decided to investigate. ‘Hmm, that was the site of the old miniature golf course,’ she remembered; it seemed to be under new ownership now; a banner strung between two tall trees proclaimed:

Grand Opening – ‘Gorgon’s Golf’ – Grand Opening

"FUN for the Whole Family"

Pulling into the empty lot, she exclaimed ‘Geez – what a fraud!’ loud enough so anyone could hear her. Nobody did, since the lot was deserted save for her Jeep and some discarded fast-food wrappers huddled around a dented trashcan. A set of rental searchlights had been set up but they were not running yet. Now that she had stopped, the wind was not nearly so strong. The rays of the sun beat down mercilessly and the stagnant humidity engulfed her like a sauna. No, she corrected herself, a steambath; saunas were at least a dry heat! Usually by this time there would be clouds swelling up to form a cooling afternoon thunderstorm; today the sky remained a clear and hazy blue. Ginger began to sweat again, then reminded herself she was supposed to call it ‘perspiration’ according to Vogue or some other magazine’s style writers. Whatever… she thought.

Almost deciding to drive off and cool down, she instead chose to stay and check the place out. After a quick check of her makeup in the rear-view mirror, she refreshed her lipgloss and touched up the blusher on her high-boned cheeks. Ginger never thought of her extensive preening as being vain; it was simply part of keeping herself looking the very best at all times. ‘After all,’ she told herself, ‘you never know when something might arise.’ She patted a few loose strands of her coiffure of lightly frosted, chestnut-colored hair back into place and applied some additional spray with an aerosol can from her large shoulder bag. Checking her wide smile to be sure it was as white as could be, Ginger finally was ready to depart.

Stepping out of the car, she carefully flashed a generous amount of tanned leg to anyone who might be watching. Ginger shrugged, not noticing the small lens of a security camera gazing at her as she ran her hands over her spectacular body once more, smoothing out the tiny wrinkles in the seat of her shorts. Tracing her fingers along the slim hourglass of her waist she knew it had been a good idea after all to have those lower ribs removed to enhance her figure. She meticulously adjusted the arrangement of her halter top to expose just the appropriate amount of cleavage. Not too wanton; but still pert and suggestive. Ginger did not think the chances of meeting someone here at this dive were going to be very good, but wanted to be perfect and ready if the unexpected did occur. Swaying suggestively, just in case, she walked towards the sole building to see if the place was even open yet. She recalled being here once before, when in high school, and back then it was a pretty boring experience. ‘I wonder what they’ve changed since?’ It still seemed rather dull. ‘These places never do anything interesting anymore,’ she sighed to herself.

There was a lot of new landscaping, and the smell of fresh paint hung in the sticky air. She could glimpse some brightly painted fiberglass dioramas along with the wide swaths of green artificial grass that marked each course. Another sign proclaimed "Welcome to Gorgon Golf" in festive script and pointed the way onward with an arrow. Ahead were more trees and the beginnings of some shade. The building that seemed to be a combination clubhouse, snack bar, and video game parlor had also been newly painted. Deep under a shiny vinyl canopy was the first sign of activity; a lone employee lurking in the shadows behind a cash register. Ginger had almost reached the counter when she recognized him.

"Well, hello, Todd," she greeted the boy of fifteen who stood there. "Didn’t expect to see you!"

He reddened, recognizing her too. "Hhh…hi, Miss Lougan…" he stammered, while blushing. She had always had this effect on him – or at least had for the past few years. As he leaned closer to the front of the counter she knew he was trying to hide his raging erection.

"Please! Call me Ginger. After all, I was almost your mom…" She smiled again, a lot more warmly than maternal, and shifted from one leg to the other in a way that made her satin shorts show some very appealing creases. She knew what was going through his mind as she continued to tease him. "Can you believe how warm it is today? I’m sooo hot…" she continued, stroking a manicured and polished fingernail idly from her neck down into the perspiration-moistened cleft between the swell of her bounteous breasts. It was clear she was not simply talking about the weather. "Do you have something for me?" She said with another seductive smirk.

Todd gasped for air like a stranded fish, not knowing what to say, afraid of saying what he wanted to say which was wildly inappropriate. Or was it? He struggled with his emotions for a few apoplectic seconds before blurting "Ah…ah….I’ll go get my dad!!" and rushed off into the building as if shot from a cannon. She glimpsed the wet spot on the front of his trousers before he turned away and congratulated herself. Mission accomplished, she thought, with a sly grin.

The boy did not return, but a man in his late thirties emerged from the building instead. He wore paint-spattered jeans and a torn T-shirt. She could clearly see the firm muscles of his chest and arms, then reminded herself why things had not worked out between them. ‘It certainly wasn’t because of bad sex!!’ she recalled fondly. On the contrary…

"Hello, Gin," he said, deadpan. "You’re looking good…"

"Of course," she replied, without the slightest hint of narcissism. She DID look good, and knew it.

"What do you want?" he said in an irritated tone.

"Oh, I was just wandering around and saw this place. I really had no idea you were working here."

"I own it." He grunted.

"So. The web business didn’t fly, eh? What was it again… lead balloons???" she taunted.

The man ignored the challenge. "This place went up for sale a few months back, and I decided to try something different." He did not want to say that it was partially nostalgia; they had had their first date here, what seemed to be eons ago. "What do you want?" he reiterated.

"Nothing, really," she looked at him levelly, not flirting much. "Can I play around? Of golf?"

"Sure," he replied, seemingly relieved to be on a business footing, "Kid’s course or Adults?"

"Adults, Benjamin. We’re all adults here, aren’t we?" Suddenly her memories were not so fond. Once he had not acted like an adult and that had been the beginning of the end for them.

"Certainly. That’ll be seven-fifty…" Money exchanged hands and he placed an ice-blue ball from underneath the counter on the carpet in front of her. "Choose your club, and start in five minutes, please. I have to turn some of the effects on." He said nothing more and turned to walk away.

"Ben?" she called, and he hesitated. "Can we at least be friends?" she asked. He resumed walking and left the question hanging in the air.

Minutes passed, and Ginger waited impatiently. Even in the shade of the canopy it remained hot. She could see Todd peering at her through one of the windows and knew she would probably be starring in his wet dream that night. ‘It’s too bad I don’t have that effect on your father’ she thought.

He returned, now smiling slightly, holding a large plastic cup already streaked with condensation. "All’s ready now, Gin." He handed her the cup. "Yeah; we can be friends. Here’s a cool soda pop. On the house."

"Thanks!" She took it and sipped the icy-cold liquid, recognizing the flavor. "Hey, it’s my favorite. You remembered!"

"Of course," he said, with a warmer smile this time. "Enjoy your round…."

There were more arrows pointing out the two courses. The adult one was towards the back with a dense row of hedges separating it from the one visible from the lot. A large circular courtyard surrounded a Roman-style fountain, complete with a marble statue holding a large pitcher on her shoulder from which an everlasting flow of water poured. A ring of benches marked the waiting area. Of course they were empty. Ginger took her time, finishing off her drink, splashing her hands in the water and flicking a few droplets into her face. She did not notice the lifelike detail captured in the statue’s stony form, nor the expression of surprise frozen on her face.

Starting out at the first hole, which was decorated with concrete replicas of ancient ruined columns, Ginger placed her ball on the carpet, set her feet, and putted away. The ball traveled unevenly and stopped a couple of feet from the hole. She took her second shot, which also missed, leaving the ball resting inches from the cup. Glancing around, Ginger saw there was no one there before nudging it with her foot and hearing the hollow ‘plip’ of it falling in. She marked a "2" on the scorecard with a smile and moved on to the next hole. Behind her the silent eye of another camera was watching.

There was a bench at this ‘tee’ and it was occupied. A pair of statues, of a couple locked in a frozen kiss, rested there. They were both nude, and excellently crafted. She recalled one of her art classes and thought they looked a little like the work of Rodin, but more refined. Ginger ran her hands over the bulging muscles of the man’s shoulders and chest, wishing she could meet the model someday.

She finished in an honest three strokes this time, avoiding the stony legs and hands of another naked female statue that bent double over the hole to make an obstacle. Her small-breasted figure was very limber and had long hair which cascaded in a stony waterfall almost to the ground. It was strange, but that sculpture really looked like one of her old friends from school. Cassy – Cassy Groves. Ginger hadn’t seen her in many years and wondered what she was doing now. Modeling, maybe.

On her way to the third hole, the light finally came on in her head and she made the connection between the name of the place and its theme: Gorgon Golf.

So that was why there was so much sculpture around! "I wonder where Medusa is…?" she mused aloud. The path led in a curve past some topiary trees and several more stone figures, including one who had been sculpted reaching up to pick a ruby-red painted apple from one of the real-life trees. This lady, though lovely, seemed older than the others Ginger had seen and wore a stony toga.

The fourth hole was a long one, along the side of the building, but the green was partially hidden by more bushes. Ginger was starting to relax and have fun as she took her first two putts which left the ball just inside the edge of some overhanging greenery that formed a kind of grotto. Within, there was even some shade and it felt cooler; almost air-conditioned. In fact, while lining up her shot, she found that it was the wall of the building that was cold. As her eyes became more accustomed to the dimness, she glimpsed what looked like a shadowy outline behind the wall and moved closer to get a better look. Suddenly, a blue light came on behind the wall, throwing a frozen figure into chilling relief. Embedded in what looked like a solid block of cloudy ice was the motionless body of a lovely woman clothed only in scraps of fur that formed a bikini barely concealing her voluptuous curves. She was facing outward, towards Ginger, and had one hand rigidly held, raised in front of her as if she had been a cavewoman trying to break free when she had been trapped there; encased forever in a growing glacier. Ginger jumped back with a gasp of surprise, then giggled when she realized that she had been ‘had’. The background lights dimmed and the figure faded back into the shadowy wall. "I’ll bet this place will be popular on Halloween…" she said bravely, though she remained jittery enough to miss the cup. She took another Mulligan on her scorecard.

Number Five was simple enough, just a large expanse of green plastic turf with a few undulations. But the obstacles were what made it different, and interesting, and more than a little spooky to the already rattled Ginger. Many more statues dotted the playing area, but this time instead of being classical Grecian figures or nudes the stone figures were of… golfers. Both men and women, all fully clothed in contemporary outfits, all solid gray stone – even their clubs. Strangely enough, if there had to be anything more strange, they did not seem to be posing but had been depicted as if frozen in mid-action. Ginger put her ball down into the depression on the turf and settled into her stance. Concentrating, she looked towards the hole and saw her pose mirrored in the petrified figure of a female statue who was concentrating just as hard, it seemed, when she had been turned to stone. ‘Sculpted, I meant,’ Ginger thought, as her putt went off to the side and ricocheted off the stone foot of the petrified woman to rest just a few inches past her rigidly held club. Ginger moved the ball slightly to one side to get a better shot at it and was already moving her club when she heard what sounded like a male voice right behind her say "Whore!"

She startled, struck wildly, and the ball went bouncing off course. Ginger turned around quickly, but there was no one there, save for the silent stiff statues. She said nothing at first, hoping to hear some footsteps, but there was only quiet with the faint ruffling of a pennant somewhere. "Who’s there?" she ventured, not wanting to hear an answer, and getting none. "This isn’t f..funny…" she quavered, suddenly afraid. "Ben…? What’s going on…?" Silence.

Ginger took two deep breaths, their mesmerizing effect lost on the stone men who surrounded her, and tried to get a grip on herself. Nothing had happened. It was all in her mind. Everything was all right. She forced herself to look up at the sunny blue sky and let the humid air flow into her lungs. Maybe her ex-fiancée was trying to play a trick on her; probably it was only her active imagination. Whatever, she wasn’t going to let it get the best of her… "This is only a miniature golf place, with a bunch of cheesy fake statues," she said to herself. "Get a grip, fer crissakes, girl!"

Taking another slow breath, she resolved to quit acting silly then looked around to see where her ball had gone off to. It wasn’t too hard to find, resting on another green after cutting across the course. Ginger had arrived at hole number thirteen, and thankfully there were no disturbingly realistic statues around her this time. Normal rules required her to place the ball back on her own ‘fairway;’ however she wanted to put off going back to that creepy place for as long as she could and so she decided to hit it from where she was standing now. After all, she reminded herself, there were no other golfers around – at least living ones – to raise objections. Ginger lined up the shot carefully and struck the ball rather hard.

She was not prepared for what happened next; for instead of bounding off into the distance, her ball simply shattered, or vaporized, into a cloud of bluish-white gas that hung in the air at her feet and seemed to be spreading upwards. Ginger was so astounded she simply stood there for a few seconds before reacting; thinking this was yet another figment of her imagination before realizing it was real.

The white gas cloud continued to expand, prompting her to take action. But it was by then too late.

When she tried to step away, she found she could not budge! Her feet seemed rooted to the turf; they were beginning to feel oddly numb, as if they had fallen asleep. Looking down, she could see them though the foggy haze, but she could not even wiggle her toes. Then she saw something else that sent fresh chills up her spine. The color was starting to drain from her feet and ankles as they took on a hue of milky ashen white. Almost as if…as if… she was turning into stone!

Ginger gasped in alarm, recognizing in an instant that her earlier fears were being confirmed, then realized that inhaling was also a very bad idea. Not only had she breathed in more of the petrifying gas, but her action caused the cloud to swirl higher around her with every passing second. In the still air it did not seem to be dispersing at all. Already her long, shapely, legs were starting to stiffen into position; the feeling of numbness creeping up relentlessly towards her knees. Her lower body felt suddenly very heavy and sluggish and cold. She was able to straighten herself upright with an effort, then almost fell over backwards because she could not balance without difficulty. By moving the golf club which she still grasped, Ginger finally reached a stable position, not that it would turn out to do her any good. Feeling a chill in her fingers, she saw that her hands were also quickly becoming pale and stiff. Dropping the club a few seconds before her hands hardened up completely, she heard the shaft clatter off the hard surface of her whitened feet. She hadn’t felt a thing. It was as if they were no longer part of her. There was a sudden rigidity in her hips as they locked solidly in place.

Trying to scream, Ginger felt a numb tightness in her throat and found that she could not utter a word. The gas she had breathed in was petrifying her vocal cords, then spreading into her neck. Soon she could not even twist her head and was stuck gazing outward, watching the cloud as it drifted leisurely upward, eventually covering her entire body. Her mouth had been frozen open with her lips slightly parted; she could feel the vapor as it numbed and transformed her tongue to stone.

As if in a dream, a figure materialized out of the mists like a ghost, if said spirit had been wearing paint-spattered jeans. "Ben!" she tried to cry, "Help MEEeeee!!!" but produced nary a peep. At first she was worried about the gas attacking him as well, then noticed that he was wearing a clear plastic smock, almost a suit – though she could not see that far down – and had on what looked like a gas mask. Ginger was overjoyed for a few seconds at being rescued, then comprehended the true reason for his appearance. Slowly, carefully, with a grin plastered his face, he went about POSING her…

Ginger was becoming very stiff by that point, and it took quite a bit of force for him to position her torso and arms where he wanted them. It was far too late for her lower body, but by sheer luck she had been leaning forward slightly when trying to balance which pushed her tush out provocatively and showed off her legs to good advantage. He was able to arch her back somewhat, emphasizing the curve of her breasts, which left her gazing skyward with a dreamy expression; she had been too shocked to be afraid until it was too late. Ginger, of course, could not move a muscle on her own though she could feel a tightness in her chest as her lungs solidified. She had always prided herself on her firm breasts; now they were going to be rock-hard forever. The apt irony was lost on her.

Ben faced the utterly helpless figure of Ginger and looked deep into her rigidly staring eyes, which by now had started to appear somewhat milky; they were turning into opaque stone even as he watched. There was not much time left for the young woman. Her transformation was almost complete.

"Hello, again, Gin." he said with a wide smile. "I see you’re looking quite good still – still as a statue, that is! Plus you’ll be equally gorgeous tomorrow, and the next day after that. Eternally, in fact. Don’t bother to reply; I know you would agree!" He patted her stony cheek fondly with his gloved hand. "Now I’ve at last got you exactly where I want you – all of your beauty and none of your sass. I’d say things turned out perfectly, at last!"

‘Damn; Damn you to Hell, you bastard!!’ she screamed at him in her mind; but her body was far past being able to respond and so there was no outward sign of her rage. ‘Get me OUT of here…’

"By now you’ve surely guessed the secret of this little venture of mine. Gorgon Golf – as in the myth of Medusa. Except this time there will be no Perseus to rescue you, my lovely Ginger statue."

‘Please don’t let it end like this. I won’t leave you again, I promise!’ She pleaded, then realized that she wasn’t going to be going anywhere whatever she pledged or begged for. She was only a likeness; a figurine of stone, one of those ‘cheesy statues’ as she had disdained them earlier. They did not seem so inane now that she had joined them permanently. Her vision at last grayed into black as her eyes became blank stony orbs. She could feel the numb coldness of total petrifaction as it spread throughout her motionless body, changing her organs into solid stone one by one. It became very quiet once her heart had turned to marble. Ginger could do nothing but wait for the end to come.

Ben continued to talk at her, gloating. "Yes, all of the statues you have seen here were once living people – people who sometime in the past did something to displease me. The lady at three? That’s your old chum Cassandra all right; she’ll have a long time to think about stiffing me on that blind date! Ha!" he laughed, a trifle madly. "Now it’s HER that’s the stiff one. You probably saw my previous business partners at five, too, a fitting resting place for them since if they had spent less time on the golf course WebTourist would have been a big success."

Ginger by now had turned completely to stone; yet she remained aware as the last cells of her brain and body had been consumed. Consciousness alone remained, spread like a gauzy curtain over her petrified figure. She should not have been able to sense anything, but she heard Ben’s words clearly.

"I’m going to put you at thirteen, my unlucky number. There’s a place of honor there that’s been waiting for you. You already look like a masterpiece, as a nude you’ll be even more statuesque. Don’t worry about modesty though; with that vavoom body of yours I’m sure you’ll enjoy having men ogling you for the rest of eternity!" With that, he pulled out a pair of scissors and began gently slicing every bit of clothing from her motionless, rigid, solidified, form. "I have to do this soon, otherwise the fabric will be transformed as well. It’s a good thing you always liked those synthetics better…" Snip; snip. Quickly Ginger’s hotpants fell down around her ankles, followed by the wispy remains of her stretchy halter top. She had not been wearing a bra; now she would never need one. He chose to leave her shoes on. The leather was already mostly petrified anyway and, yes, her legs looked splendid in them. Stepping back, he took in the exquisite statue that Ginger had become. Her body was as full and firm as he had remembered it. The coating of perspiration on her skin had made the stony surface of her figure smooth and very shiny, almost polished, in appearance. Faint veining lines streaked through the light gray stone; giving the impression she had been carved by a master artisan who had captured every facet and nuance of her body with incredibly precise detail. Even the heavy coat of hairspray she had applied to keep her ‘do in place had become preserved as glinting highlights on the stone. The transformation had been truly miraculous.

The statue’s thoughts were slowing down, making it more difficult for her to understand his words, which were coming so rapidly now they could be mistaken for the buzzing of a bee. She had stood there naked for almost five minutes before the meaning of his jibe about ‘modesty’ sunk in; what remained of her ego understood, and was pleased in a hazy sort of way. Ginger found she could not concentrate all of the time; gaps started to appear in her memories almost as if she had fallen asleep. Only the unexpected touch of Ben’s hands as he caressed her petrified figure brought her back to a degree of awareness. The experience was extremely subtle, it had been almost unnoticeable before compared to the sensitivity of her fleshly form. She could barely sense when he kissed her breasts and moved downwards on her torso. The feel of his tongue on the hardened mound of her sex was a light as the wings of a butterfly yet she was still able to savor what seemed to be a brief encounter.

Ben realized after some minutes of feeling her up that while he was alone with the statue, he was not exactly in private. Whether Todd had thought to watch the security monitors he did not know, but there might be more players appearing at any time. Here he was, fondling a statue of his ex-girlfriend Ginger in the middle of the thirteenth green! There would be ample opportunity for more dalliances later. He stepped away and got back to business.

In what seemed only an instant, Ginger found herself being lifted bodily by a loop of nylon strap hung from a crane and carefully placed atop a two foot tall stone pedestal. Although she could not see it, her petrified shoes settled into a smear of quick-setting concrete that anchored her figure in place securely. She looked out upon the playing surface as if she were a goddess inside a temple.

Occasionally she noticed other voices nearby, occasionally Ben’s, and the sounds of the crane being used again. Much later she heard the sounds of many different voices and grasped that the facility was at last open to the public. She had no way of knowing which new statues had been placed throughout the entire course, some of which she had once played and laughed with. One of Ben’s shortcomings had been his vindictiveness; now that he had a means to extract his revenge Ginger knew there would always be fresh sculptures appearing at Gorgon Golf.

--end of ch.1--

Click here to check out "Gorgon Golf, Part 2" by Panic

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