The Wax Master
By M.P.

They all stood in a row and smiled their seductive smiles. The subtle wisp of a sexy arm or leg exposed in shiny lace or satin. The fine smooth flat stomaches hidden barely by a misty vail of transparent mesh. The colorful costumes were chosen carefully and gave them the appearence of being in a Turkish harem. The billowing panties and skin tight bras held an air of mystery and the girls themselves were perfect to display these wears. Their soft creamy waxen bodies frozen in dance. Seated in the midst of all these beauties was a fat shiek. The man was gorging himself on grapes and fine wine as the frozen women displayed themselves before him.

The shiny wax on their skin glowing in the light of their display.

On the other side was another group. They too stood in waxen silence. This group wore the fashions of other eras. Two were dressed as flappers of the twenties. Though they were obviously wax one had to look closer at the detail. The bigger of the two, a sexy blond had piercing blue eyes. Under her dress one could see the fine lines of her body and the points of her nipples as they strained against the bright yellow dress she wore. Her friend, a large chested brunette was packed into a tight green dress. From the angular pose she stood in, gave a glimpse of her tight little ass. Which the artist conviently left unpantied. Her dark brown eyes were wet and moist. From the view of someone just entering the hall it would look like she had been crying. Both lovlies had long shapely legs and wore strap on shoes that were popular at the time. They wore no jewelry but much make up. The heavy coating of rouge and pancake made them appear like two very sexy dolls.

In the next display was Jean Harlow. Her platinum blond locks shining in the bright overhead lights. The filmy silver dress she wore reflected the lights and added an aura to her form. Her body though hidden under much of her gown was also a true work of art. The tight cloth showed every line of her body. She had a slightly rounded belly and wide firm hips. Her ass stuck out slightly but was firm and round. At the junction between her legs a narrow V could be seen and betrayed the fact that this figure sported no panties as well. She stood with her legs slightly apart and one hand pressed to her temple. It was a true dramatic moment.

The next scene was a take off on a Varga session at Esquire. Here a young artist was working with a sexy model trying to create poster art. The model was a sexy black haired girl dressed in a red, white and blue swimsuit. Her swimsuit bottom was trimmed in a wavy strip of cloth that was white colored and gave a contrast to her little round bottom. She had small breasts but they pushed up and outward nicely from being in the little halter top she wore. Her waist was very narrow and her stomach was very flat. She wore black pumps that made the muscles in her legs stand out. Her left arm stiff at her side the right bent in a salute. This frozen tableuex was quite large but the idea of the frozen girl being made into a painting was highly erotic.

There were other settings.

The fifties were represented by a very realistic Marilyn Monroe scene from the Seven Year Itch. Here stood the blonde in all her glory over the steam grate. Her white dress billowing up exposing her white panties and shapely ass and legs. Upon closer examination you could see that the artist had used very fine plastic filament wire to hold up the edges of her skirt. Her legs were perfectly tanned and had smooth nicely curved thighs. On her feet were white patent leather shoes with four inch heels. Her face was shiny but hyper realistic. Her bright shiny glassy blue eyes looked out at no one in particular, a gaze frozen in ecstasy, Her bright red lips were slightly parted and she wore a smile that would melt mens hearts.

The one for the sixties, was flower children, hippies and sexy girls in skimpy multi colored bikinis frozen in various stages of dancing. In the center of the tableux was a plastic fire on a beach. This was a take on the old beach party movies starring Frankie Avalon and Annette Funicello. Here were Frankie and Annette, only this Annette was very different from the little flirt I remembered from those movies. Dressed in a form hugging tank suit of bright red her large breasts pressed against the tight cloth. She was in a moment of arousal evidenced by the pointy nipples that pushed out on her suit. Frankie also was no slouch, he was sporting a bulge in his yellow trunks. They were hugging each other in front of the still flames of the frozen fire. Frankies hand squeezing her left tit. Annette had her hand pressed into her own crotch gently touching herself. And around them on other blankets were more beach goers in various stages of undress kissing and fondling each other.

The Seventies was a group at a rock concert. The band was made up of five guys in strange make up. In their arms were guitars and the fith was seated behind a set of drums. This tableux was hot, it was a bunch of groupies dressed in little skimpy bikinis and short shorts or less. The frozen young wax women were pulling off their tops and exposing their little breasts and white pantied bottoms to the frozen rock band on the stage. Some had climbed up with the band and were fondling the artists as they performed their frozen concert. The frozen beauties made me hot just standing there.

One girl a big chested blonde was apparently the center piece of the display. Wearing nothing but a sexy smile, she had large perfect bullet shaped breasts which stuck out proudly. She was captured in a moment of pure ecstasy. Kneeling on the stage she had one hand cupped over her breast, the other grabbing at the lead singers crotch. Her hair was thrown back in a rumpled mass, the strands frozen in space as if time had suddenly stopped. Her large blue eyes were wide open and stared skyward, and her mouth was wide open the thick red lips forming a perfect O.

Next came the ninties and this was a complicated diarama. It was a mixture of science fiction and dark colors mostly black and silver. The central theme seemed to be domination. Here a dominatrix dressed in shining black leather stood with a riding crop in her hand. Her large breasts pushed up and outward in the tight fitting corset she wore. She had on leather panties with a narrow silver belt that squeezed in her waist to an astonishing 18 inches. At her feet kneeled two submissive young girls. The pair were identicle twin blondes with large milky white breasts in matching bra and panty sets made of silk with fine lace trim. Their bodies were trim and sexy, though shiny, their wax skin had a pure white glow that added to the illusion of their being real.

The dom held them by the hair pulling their heads up and back so that they stared upward with blank eyes. Each girl was shackled to the other, one free hand buried deeply inside the other girls pussy. It seemed they enjoyed their bondage in many ways indeed.

It was a frightening place this hall, but around the last corner was the piece de resistance.

Over the entrance to the final exhibit was the word FUTURE in large metal letters. Here the wax women were dressed in varied fabrics. Mostly vynil or latex and some wore rubber and leather. In one corner stood what appeared to be an andriod like woman who was rounding up some of the leather women. Apperently in the future the doms would be the subsurviants and made to cater to the whims of a superior race. An android race they probably created themselves. The doms were being placed in large cubicals that were attached to large mainframe computers the wires running from the machines to each cubical. In some cubicals were standing what appeared to be leather clad androids. The androids were preparing others to join their ranks.

It was here that I first met Zenta.

I myself had worked as for the L.A.P.D for the last 5 years. I was checking up on some stories about several girls that had disappeared in the waterfront area. The only clue I had was a letter from one of the girls Margie Hamilton. She had written her new boyfriend Mark Damon that she had found work at the new waxworks on the boardwalk. That was three weeks ago, and Mark had become worried.

I entered the small wax museum at about six that afternoon, and looked around. It was primarily a sex show but it was legal because they used no live actors or actresses. I walked up to the display of Jean Harlow and was about to touch her face when I heard a load cough noise behind me. I turned to see a large man with a small club in his hand. He pointed the stick at a sign on the wall. It said, Please do not touch the figures. I flashed him my badge and asked for the boss. He merely nodded to the back and I could make out the outline of a door. I said thanks and went into the rear office.

The door creaked open and inside of the dimly lit room all I could make out was a cluttered desk and a shadow of someone seated behind it. A desk lamp was turned on but it was like a firefly trying to light the Empire State building. Its dim beam only illuminating a small patch on the desk. A gravely voice broke the din.

"How can I help you sir?" The voice asked.

I whipped out my badge and dropped it onto the desk top. A slightly wrinkled hand covered with liver spots picked it up. The shadow looked at it for several seconds then dropped it back onto the desk. I picked up my badge and placed it back in my coat.

"What do you want to know Detective?" Asked the old man.

"Sir, I'm investigating the disappearance of several young girls in this area in the last few monthes." I said.

"Yes I read about it in the Times on several occasions." The old man continued. "But what has it got to do with my humble establishment?"

"Well we were wondering if anyone here on the boardwalks had heard or seen anything unusual." I said.

"No. I'm sorry to not be of any help my dear Detective, Simpson? Is that right?" the old man inquired.

"Yes, Sir My name is Detective Harry Simpson and you are?" I asked.

"I am Dr. Horatio Kent, the creator of the wax works you see before you."

The doctor got up from behind his desk and came into the center of the room. I was slightly repulsed at first by the appearance of the good Doctor. He appeared to be about sixty or seventy and had a large wort on the side of his nose. If he had been a woman I would have sworn he was a witch. He took my hand and I was shocked at how artificial it felt. It was as if he too were made of wax. I shook off this foolish notion and decided to try a different approach.

"Yes I enjoyed my visit to your shop. The figures are truly realistic." I said trying to butter him up.

"Do you cast them from life or just create them yourself?" I continued.

"I used to make them by hand until I had my accident." Said Kent. But since then I have found a much better way of aquiring the figures." He continued. "Please come join me in my work room, I want you to see my latest aquisition."

He led me down a narrow hallway lined with several brown oak doors that were all identical. If someone ever got lost in here it would take hours to find the way out. We came to a door marked simply room 212. Kent reached into his pocket and drew out a slim silver key and inserted it into the lock. The door creaked open and a wave of warm air surged out of the rooom. It was not just the heat in the room that was most annoying but it was the pungent odor of wax that permiated the air. I smelled as if a thousand candles had been lit in the tiny room and I had to step back into the hallway.

"Oh I'm dreadfully sorry Dectective." Said Kent. "Wait here until I open some windows and let in some fresh air."

Inside I could the hear the whoosh sound of windows going up. And after several seconds the warm sticky wax odor began to disapate. I entered and was at first shocked at what I saw. Scattered around the room were various body parts. I picked up a very shapely leg off the table and breathed a sigh. It was wax, as was everything else in the room. Kent walked over to the center most table and removed a cloth. Under the black sheet was a new figure. A tall thin extremely pale redhead with large breasts and a slightly curved stomach the new figure lay on the table unmoving. I walked over and felt her skin. It was cool to the touch and slightly oily. I found myself touching her breasts and the nipples felt like twin buttons of hard wax. Kent was smiling as he watched and soon spoke.

"Well what do you think of my latestest creation?"

I stopped fondling the wax woman and turned to the little old man.

"Its frightening how realistic she is." I said. "There are no joints or seams showing that she was molded but she is definitely not human."

Kent was going to speak again but a sexier voice interupted him.

"Well Horatio, aren't you going to introduce me to this charming gentilman?" She asked.

"Oh I'm so sorry my dear." Kent continued. "Detective Simpson, my partner Zenta Dark."

She extended a lean sexy hand. The fingers were narrow and perfect with long shapely nails colored in a blood red nail polish. I had to swallow hard as I beheld her beauty. A stunning woman, Zenta had long waist lengh black hair that was parted down the center. Her face was like a fine painting by one of the italian masters. With high narrow cheekbones and a slim aquiline nose. She had narrow lips that were painted with a matching blood red lipstick to match her nails.

She had coal black eyes that seemed to look right through me but inside of them was a cool fire that seethed with vitality. Zenta was dressed in a white lab coat and a smooth blue cotton dress that just ended above her shapely thighs. Her legs were encased in shiny silk tan pantyhose. I shook her hand and was relieved that it felt warm and smooth an extreme opposite from her partner.

"It seems that Detective Simpson my dear is hunting for those poor missing girls." Said Kent.

"Yes it is very disturbing." Zenta continued. " A girl can't be safe anywhere these days."

She came around to the front of the work table.

"If you will excuse me gentilmen, I have alot of work to do."

"Yes so do I." Said Kent and left the room

After Kent had left Zenta turned to me and with a look of fear in her eyes said in a low whisper.

"You must get out of here and warn the police about this place." Zenta continued. " The wax works is only a front for a girl smuggling ring."

I looked at her strangely. Then went to close the door. I took her by the hand and sat her on a small chair near the work table.

"Tell me everything you know and I'll help you get out of here." I said.

I could sense that the girl was really scared and I had a growing attraction for the raven hairded beauty. I went to the sink and drew her a drink of sparkling cold water. She took the glass in her long slender fingers and gently sipped the clear liquid. She handed back the glass and began her tale. After about fifteen minutes she had finished and I stood in awe at the idea that all the sexy wax works I had just been admiring were in fact the missing girls. Kent was a chymist, and had brought his powers to L.A. and was placing the girls in stasis and then covering them with a polymer solution. They were all alive and would soon be transported to their new homes. Those being the place of whomever paid the highest price for them. Zenta knew the cure so I told her to ready the solution as I took care of Mr. Kent.

Kent was leaning over a tall brown haired wax girl. She was partially nude and reclining on a paisley divan. He moved the wisp of cloth away from her large breasts and the two perfect round melons gleamed in the light. He licked his lips and the old man placed his craggly hands on them and squeezed the smooth waxen flesh. She was almost solid and the old mans fingers left small indentations on her pliant skin. He cursed slightly and then using a wooden tool that resembled a scupting tool he smoothed her breast back into a perfect ball. He smiled his crooked smile happy in the idea that he had the power to sculpt his women into any shape or style he wished. He replaced the thin cloth and then turned to a table on his right. He removed the cover and under neath was a sexy blonde girl. I knew instantly it was Margie Hamilton. I had seen the photo many times over the past few days and her beauty was unmistakable. She was strapped down and struggling against her bonds. In her mouth was a red ball gag. Kent ran his fingers over the nude girls body and she recoiled in fear from his touch. He reached into the poket of his lab coat and drew out a long syringe. He shot out the air bubbles from the hypo and inserted the needle into the struggling girls right leg. Margie whimpered in pain at the first shock of the needle violating her flesh. Then she suddenly grew quiet and her body seemed to tense. From where I stood I could see everything and it was strangely erotic in a way. Margies eyes were now beginning to glaze over. The look of shock faded into a lost blissful expression. Kent grabbed her right arm and raised it above her head. Like posing a doll her arm stayed suspended in mid air. He then played further with his new toy and raised her legs as well and spread them apart. Margie's body was almost solid now and the rigid girl held her pose. He then lowered her limbs back to the table and molded her face into a sexy smile.

I knew now was the time to react. I pulled out my service revolver and stepped into the light.

"Hold it right there Kent!" I said.

"Ah, I was wondering how long it would take for you to figure out my little secret Dectective." Kent said. "Aren't my lovies the most perfect things you have ever seen?" Kent continued." And Margret here will be in a place of honor." "She could anything Cleopatra, Joan of Ark, Any one of thousands of beauties I can make her into." He laughed a sinister laugh and then pointed to the doorway. I turned to look and in the doorway stood Zenta.

"Zenta, Quick come over here and we'll get this old bastard before he can hurt any one else." I said.

Zenta walked in then but with a strange look in her eyes. She passed me and went to Kent. She then smiled at me and laughed.

"You're such a fool Harry." Zenta said. "You know that we can't let you go."

I drew back the hammer on my revolver and grabbed Zenta by the wrist. I screamed in fear then at the sight of her hand being wrenched off. I looked at the perfect hand. It was still warm and from the wrist joint it started to ooze a white liquid. I threw the lifeless hand to the floor and watched in horror as Zenta leaned down and reattached it to herself.

"You're not human!" I said.

"Yes my dear Detective Simpson." Kent said. "Zenta is one of my earlier attempts, she is a cyborg." Kent continued. " Lately I have not had the time or the patience to build my girls anymore and so I decided to just collect them as still lifes, like Margret here."

He passed a hand over the still girls face, and gently touched her smooth red lips.

"And now my dear detective you are going to join Zenta and I."Kent said.

"You must really be nuts!" I said. "I would never willingly join you on this nonsense."

"So be it then." Kent said. "Zenta show the dectective to the preperation room."

I was starting to sweat now and when Zenta approached me I yelled to Kent.

"You're never going to get away with this." I said.

I then fired my revolver into Zenta's belly. At first she was phased by the sudden shock of the bullets entering her but she only looked at herself and then continued toward me. I knew that I was wasting my ammo on Zenta, so I concentrated on Kent. I reloaded as quickly as I could and then fired all six chambers into the old man. Kent flipped over backward from the force of the bullets riddling his thin body and fell to the ground in a pool of his own blood. Zenta shrieked at the sight of her creator being killed and lunged at me. I grabbed the only weapon I could find. It was a large pole that was used to hold the medicine table up. I clubbed Zenta with it several times but the living machine was too tough. She then grabbed me and picked me up as if I were a rag doll and hurled me across the room. I crashed into a set of computers that were lining the left wall. The force of my blow shattered one of the cabinets open, and the room was flooded with a spray of blue green sparks. I looked up dazedly, and could see the form of Zenta approaching me. Her eyes had changed somewhat and now the irises were glowing an eerry shade of red. I assumed this was going to be the end when I felt something hot against my back.

I reached behind myself and found a power coupling that had broken loose from the computer. Zenta leaned over me now and was about to tear my head off when I stuck the live power line into her beautiful face. The wire burned through the plastic skin of her face mask and I could see the flashing lights of her circuts and componets fry in the heat of the electricity from the cable. She screamed again in a mechanical way and ran around the room holding her head in her hands. Then she suddenly siezed up and fell to the floor. She shuddered for several seconds and then froze.

I got up then and groaned from the pain all over my body. I knew that this would definitely call for some serious R&R. I walked over to Zenta's now lifeless body and moved her arm. The dead cyborgs arm hung in the air now and her entire body was cold and stiff. I thanked Mr. Edison under my breath and then went over to Kent. The little old man was a twisted heap of torn flesh now and I somehow could not muster up any regret. The old bastard had deserved to die and inside I knew this. I then went through his books and found some lists of chemicals. I hoped that somewhere in this jungle of paperwork lie a cure for the poor girls he had done this to. I then phoned the crime lab and told them to come up and pick up the evidence.

Stepping out into the cool night air of the boardwalk I took in a deep breath of the ocean air and sighed in relief. It had been a close one tonight I knew and I somehow missed Zenta. Even though she was a machine, I think I was beginning to fall in love with her. Soon the boys from crime lab pulled up in their white van and Sargent Jirgins the night watch person came over to me and handed me a hot cup of coffee.

"We got all the papers secure and are rounding up the wax figures." He said. "There wasn't too much left of that old guy after your 357 got through with him." Jirgins continued. "And what was that thing with the beautiful bod?" "It looks like you burned its head nearly off."

"Come by the office tomorrow I'll let you read the report." I said. "Im beat, goodnight sarge."

"OK Mr. Simpson." Jirgins said.

Jirgins and his men finished up and soon the white van pulled away. I lit a cigarette and took several drags and then crushed the butt into the street. It was getting colder now so I pulled the collar of my overcoat a little tighter and then got into my car. I put the car in gear and eased into the flow of the late night traffic. As I drove along I thought of Zenta and the theme of Dragnet. Just another day in the City of the Angels.

The End M.P. 9/1/99

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