The vixen inhaled deeply as she placed her hand on the golden doorknob before her, and took one last glance over her shoulder at the hallway behind. Turning the knob, she closed her eyes and exhaled slowly as she gently pushed the door open.

The grand room opened up before her, as plush and ornate as the rest of the mansion had anticipated it would be. But in addition to the crystal chandeliers and golden sconces the master of the house favored, this room was filled with beautiful stone statues. Carved smooth and sleek, the various stone figures seemed to live and breathe like the marble masterworks of Michelangelo. Some knelt while others danced; mostly female figures of a shape not unlike her own, though an occasional Adonis here and there did not seem out of place.

As the vixen flicked her eyes around the room, it quickly came to her attention that each statue was facing towards the rear and center of the floor. Gazing through the dim light, her eyes finally picked out the shape of a dark-furred gentleman resting comfortably in a small plush chair, velvety and red as the floor beneath.

"Come in," he beckoned to her softly. "I've been expecting you."

The vixen's eyes continued to uneasily scan around as she slowly padded towards the only other living figure in the massive room, the only motion in a sea of frozen forms.

"Do you like them?" he cooed, in a soft tone that seemed more cold than curious.

"Y-yes... they're beautiful, sir." She hoped that the shakiness in her voice was less obvious to him than it was to her. What was she so nervous about? She had heard tales of this eccentric young patron des arts, but really nothing that had struck her as being of any real concern. She must have just been feeling overwhelmed by the presence of luxury unlike any other she had known.

"Mmm," he agreed. "But not as beautiful as you are promised to be. Cast off that robe, my dear." His words were sweet, but as the vixen approached, they sounded as void of interest and emotion as his face now read upon closer look.

Casting her glance down, the vixen gently undid the sash around her waist and slid the silken garment down around her shoulders, more shyly than sensuous. The motion was not unfamiliar to her, even among strangers; why did it fill her with such unease now? Her fingers quivered and clenched around the last scrap of fabric before letting it fall to her feet.

"That's better, my dear." The dark patron leaned back in his seat and shifted slightly, but offered no more interest than before. "Would you get on your knees, please?"

The vixen nodded, swallowing hard as she knelt down, now with only inches separating her from the patron, as the statues gazed on. Glancing up over the back of the chair, a broad-shouldered male figure loomed over like a sentinel, though its expression seemed more guarded than guarding. She noticed for the first time that the statue's eyes seemed to be painted a faint green color. Flicking her eyes around to the other nearest statues, she noticed they all seemed that way.

Her attention was jarred by a sudden snap of the patron's fingers.

"Look at me, my dear. They will offer you nothing."

"I ... I am sorry, sir." She could not hide her quivering now.

"I, on the other hand, can offer you what you most desire, my dear." A faint smirk tugged at one corner of the patron's mouth. "To be young and beautiful forever. Is that not what all young women such as yourself desire? Or maybe it's just that you fear growing old and ugly..."

As the patron trailed off, the vixen felt her knees become heavy, as though she couldn't move them even if he ordered her to. The green eyes of the statues seemed brighter somehow than they just had been.

"Sir, what's --"

"SILENCE." He waved a hand over the vixen's head and suddenly her tongue felt as heavy as her knees. The shining flash of a gold ring crossed her view, as did a faint green glow of a gem mounted on the band.

As the vixen began to protest, her tongue did not move. Nor did her knees, or even her toes or feet. She could still feel all of her muscles, but could not will the lower half of her body to move. Jerking her head side to side and darting her eyes about the grand room, she realized that the green eyes of the statues were not merely painted, but were now in fact glowing, and growing in brightness and intensity as did the patron's ring.

This isn't art, she thought, all too late. This is sorcery!

The patron sighed heavily. He had seen this expression a hundred, if not a thousand times: it was clearly rendered on the faces of his statues, were they to be seen in broad daylight instead of the diffuse and dim sparkle of the chandeliers and sconces.

"It would seem you've sussed it out, my dear. Why do you look so afraid? I am giving you what you want. What you wished for as you tossed your last coin to the well. Once your transformation is complete, you will be eternally young and beautiful."

The vixen tried to scream, but her vocal chords had already turned to stone.

"I think you might make for a nice furniture piece, my dear. It's good to have some functional art every now and then."

The green gem on his ring flashed, and suddenly the vixen's arms from elbow to wrist were heavy stone. The weight pulled the vixen down to all fours. She felt the weight of stone creeping up her thighs and into her waist, permanently affixing her posture. Unable to sob, a small stream of hot tears poured silently down her cheeks.

"Don't you think you could smile, my dear? You should be grateful." He frowned.

As the petrification spread up into the vixen's neck and shoulders, she gazed directly ahead, saddened and ashamed. She twisted her face up into a sigh, unable to blink away the last of the tears she would ever shed.

This perverse reality was the price she paid for her vanity.

Once fully immobilized, her eyes filmed over with a glowing green stone through which she could somehow still see.

Wait... what? WHAT?? I'm.. I'm not dead?! But... but... oh my god... no... no... NO!!!!!

The patron leaned his hand against his head and nudged at his newest piece with one foot, arranging it crosswise in front of his seat. He sighed once more as he propped his feet up onto his brand new vixen-shaped ottoman.

"They are never grateful."