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I am perfect.
You can see it, just by looking at me, no? How flawlessly I'm formed, a strong pose indicating dominance and leadership - ah, but see here, a hand, tugging at my cape, and in the other, my cigarette holder, the little finger extended out to signify class and refinement. It's those subtle, small touches, you know? They are what really make a work of art such as myself complete. You see, how immaculate I am? I'm a shadow of the real thing, of course. But for what I am...I am perfect.
I wasn't always this way, of course. Once upon a time, I was dull, and dreary, and unremarkable, like you. I remember it well, unfortunately. Hopefully a day will come when the last memory of that miserable, turgid life leaks out of my head, and to me, my past will have always been as shining as I am now. But for the moment, I suppose those memories serve some kind of a purpose. How you too can lift your head out of the muck and become as incredible as I, perhaps. There's a value in that. If there wasn't dirt to compare me to, I would shine less bright, I think.
But--yes. Before all this. I knew of Lord Ratigan, was aware of him for a long time. Admired him, even, and as I grew, my love for him grew too. But...I didn't understand. Not really. I thought I did, but it was meeting him in person that really made it clear just...how incredible a creature he is. For he truly is incredible. You understand that, yes? Why else would you be here, gazing upon my beauty, if you did not also wish to gaze upon his? But I digress - I loved my lord, but I did not truly understand his depths until I met him in person.
How it came about escapes me, these days. Was I invited to meet him? Did I just happen to bump into him by accident? Neither of those sound quite right - I don't know why my lord would've specifically sought me out, given I was but one of a crowd, and I don't know him to be one who needs to explore London Town all that much. It's unimportant, anyway. What matters is that I was brought before him in some way or another, and he saw in me...the potential to be something more.
Of course, it couldn't just happen immediately. It was a careful process. Lord Ratigan was grooming me for the role, gently instilling in me the ways I would need to be to become what he required of me. Ah...but...I chuckle to myself when I remember it. How silly I was. I must have had an overinflated sense of self, given how much of a dullard I was back then.
For you see, I understood very well that he had plans for me. We talked, for long hours into the night, discussing the world, as he brought me into his view of how he saw things. He gifted me clothing, suits and ascots, capes like his. Taught me to smoke with style - I still remember my lord's chuckle as he saw me cough on my first puff, and the pride in his face once I learned how to do it properly, like him. We shared...beautifully intimate moments. Even with how pathetic I was back then, I think I shall cherish certainly those memories. But all that time I spent with him, and I never picked up on...I thought he was asking me, in his own implicit way, to join him. To be his partner - perhaps even to succeed him, should that time ever come! So carried away with the ecstasy of being chosen at all by him, I suppose.
I realize now that for all I could try to mimic him, I could never match him. There is a glory, an innate...aura Lord Ratigan emanates, something indescribable that takes him beyond our simple minds. Of course, he knew it from the start. He's an unmatchable genius, of course he knew from the start that I - that no-one could ever reach his level. Yes, my lord had something else entirely planned for me, and I imagine even you must have an inkling of what was in his mind now.
I'm not sure how long ago it was now, anymore. Over a year at least, possibly two. Again, unimportant. I awoke. He was not there - only a note informing me of where to go, next to, surprisingly, my street clothes. I think they were the clothes I had worn the first day I met him, a threadbare hooded sweatshirt and a pair of tattered jeans. It threw me a little. My lord had already stressed in previous nights that today would be an important day, the culmination of all our work together. For him to ask that I wear something distinctly not suited to the occasion surprised me, but I knew better than to question his mind.
I followed his instructions, dressing myself and meeting him in the main hall, but unusually, it was empty, save for Lord Ratigan, and a gold platform. He welcomed me with open arms, embraced me tightly, kissed me on the cheek. Told me he'd been waiting for this day for a long time. Today, I would be immortalized. He gently held my hand - his touch so delicate, it made my heart flutter. My eyes must have glittered. I loved my lord so. He guided me up to the platform, let me stand upon it. I didn't question any of it, put my trust in him fully. I was right to. He bade me stand there - a little straighter, keep your posture upright. I'm not sure what I was imagining might be happening in that moment. I think I suspected he might bring in a painter, have a portrait drawn of me, much like the one he had of himself. Instead, all I felt was a tightening around my feet, a squeeze as something gripped them. I looked down, to see my fate sealed, although I didn't realize it at the time.
At first, I thought the platform had somehow turned liquid, and begun to engulf me, as though I was sinking into it. My tatty, dirt stained trainers had turned golden, tightened and warped until they had taken on the appearance of dress shoes, much the same as my lord was wearing now. I attempted to move, my legs bending, but my golden feet were now fused to the platform. Panic briefly gripped me - no matter how much you prepare a man for such a thing, some fear will still enter his heart.
I watched, unsure what was happening, in that moment of fear where you cannot quite comprehend what you are seeing, and you are unsure how to react. I realized quickly that my initial hypothesis of liquid swallowing me was not the case. I saw the weak denim tighten, stiffen and harden, the fabric transmuting into solid, immovable gold. It locked my knees into place, and I could no longer bend them. I looked up, still fearful, at Lord Ratigan, saw the grin spread across his face. I couldn't help myself. "What's happening?" I asked.
"As I said before...you're being immortalized." He replied, his enunciation precise and exact, the consonants like little drum beats that made my heart skip a beat.
"But...I thought..." I stammered, looking down at my petrifying form. I had frozen up to my waist, my shabby denim jeans having reformed into the same kind of dress trousers my lord had adorned himself with this day - but shimmering, glittering in the candle light. Even in my fear, I could see how beautiful I was becoming. "I thought...I thought I was going to..." I went on, but he did not respond, simply looking at me with a look of concern, waiting for me to finish. "I was going to become you too...?"
He blinked, like he didn't quite understand the question, but then let out a chuckle - even then, his laugh made me sigh with desire, how delightful it sounded. "You thought...YOU would be becoming ME?" He said incredulously, as though the very thought of it was laughable. He approached me, pressing a hand against my golden waist. "Oh, no, no, my dear boy, no! There's only room for one Napoleon of Crime in London! No...you'll merely be a monument to my perfection..."
I stared at him in awe, as the realization crashed through me - how stupid I'd been! Of course, I could've never hoped to match him! His glory is unique. He outshines me, outshines us all. He is far beyond simpletons such as you or I. None of us could hope to catch up, and the fact that I had thought I could, and the realization I couldn't, made me realize just how great his intellect was. I realized, with a shaky breath, that he had chosen the perfect role for me all along.
"Th...thank you..." My eyes locked with his, and I shivered with happiness. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!" I gabbled out, knowing this would be my last chance to speak with a voice. I had so much to get out, to tell him before I stopped moving. I wanted to reach out to him, but my attempts to move my arms were hindered. They quivered, forcing themselves into position against my will. My right hand, tugging at the cape that had formed over my shoulders. My left arm, raising beside my head. All of me turning to gold, beautiful, beautiful gold.
"Yes, this, this is the perfect, perfect position for me." I blurted. My shoulders had locked in place. It was crawling up my neck "Thank you sir, thank you, thank you, my lord, I'll be a good statue! I'm so honored, thank you thank you thankkgggmmnn--" My voice strangled to a halt, as my face was warped, my pathetic, human countenance replaced with his, my mouth stretching into a sharp-toothed grin to match his own. I had stopped speaking, but my adulation of the glorious being I was becoming a shimmering representation of continued within my head.
What made me me was being completely erased, replaced with him. It felt so right. I wasn't worth remembering. He was. That was why this was happening. My existence was merely to serve his, to proclaim to the world the glory of Lord Ratigan - the very name that appeared in the base of the platform I stood upon, as I froze up completely, never to move again. My eyes stared blankly ahead. I heard him snap his fingers, and his minions entered, wheeling a full length mirror, so I could see my completed form. How glorious I look. He had truly made me perfect. I could never, ever thank him enough.
And...well...that's the story, in its entirety. After that, my days became something of a blur. I was moved here, to my lord's personal quarters, so he could look upon himself. He was even kind enough to move the mirror up here, so I can enjoy staring at my own immaculate reflection. In the time since then and now, I have...I believe, become something that my lord can always rely upon. Often times, he will come up here, after a long day, and lean against me, tell me of his woes and his triumphs. He has told me how invaluable I am - how perfect I am as a sympathetic ear. I love to hear him talk, and I love to be in his presence.
Is there a moral in all of this? I would've thought it obvious - submit your self to Lord Ratigan, and perhaps you have a chance to become as perfect as I am. Ah, look, here he comes now. I can't imagine he will be happy to find you in his quarters without permission, so you will have to do a lot of groveling if you wish to avoid becoming cat food. But keep hope in your heart, little one, and always trust in him! Take it from something with experience - he knows the perfect place for you, too.
the second birthday commission from
AnotherMeekOne - i haven't gotten it often, but i do really like petrification and inanimate tf. of course, it has to be of my fave characters, statues and action figures and such, i'm not one for stuff like furniture or food tf. but the idea of being frozen in the form of a character i admire is very appealing to me, and i love how Meek did it here - i look so wonderful, do i not? glistering and glimmering in gold?
so i wrote another story for it! i'm having fun with this
You can see it, just by looking at me, no? How flawlessly I'm formed, a strong pose indicating dominance and leadership - ah, but see here, a hand, tugging at my cape, and in the other, my cigarette holder, the little finger extended out to signify class and refinement. It's those subtle, small touches, you know? They are what really make a work of art such as myself complete. You see, how immaculate I am? I'm a shadow of the real thing, of course. But for what I am...I am perfect.
I wasn't always this way, of course. Once upon a time, I was dull, and dreary, and unremarkable, like you. I remember it well, unfortunately. Hopefully a day will come when the last memory of that miserable, turgid life leaks out of my head, and to me, my past will have always been as shining as I am now. But for the moment, I suppose those memories serve some kind of a purpose. How you too can lift your head out of the muck and become as incredible as I, perhaps. There's a value in that. If there wasn't dirt to compare me to, I would shine less bright, I think.
But--yes. Before all this. I knew of Lord Ratigan, was aware of him for a long time. Admired him, even, and as I grew, my love for him grew too. But...I didn't understand. Not really. I thought I did, but it was meeting him in person that really made it clear just...how incredible a creature he is. For he truly is incredible. You understand that, yes? Why else would you be here, gazing upon my beauty, if you did not also wish to gaze upon his? But I digress - I loved my lord, but I did not truly understand his depths until I met him in person.
How it came about escapes me, these days. Was I invited to meet him? Did I just happen to bump into him by accident? Neither of those sound quite right - I don't know why my lord would've specifically sought me out, given I was but one of a crowd, and I don't know him to be one who needs to explore London Town all that much. It's unimportant, anyway. What matters is that I was brought before him in some way or another, and he saw in me...the potential to be something more.
Of course, it couldn't just happen immediately. It was a careful process. Lord Ratigan was grooming me for the role, gently instilling in me the ways I would need to be to become what he required of me. Ah...but...I chuckle to myself when I remember it. How silly I was. I must have had an overinflated sense of self, given how much of a dullard I was back then.
For you see, I understood very well that he had plans for me. We talked, for long hours into the night, discussing the world, as he brought me into his view of how he saw things. He gifted me clothing, suits and ascots, capes like his. Taught me to smoke with style - I still remember my lord's chuckle as he saw me cough on my first puff, and the pride in his face once I learned how to do it properly, like him. We shared...beautifully intimate moments. Even with how pathetic I was back then, I think I shall cherish certainly those memories. But all that time I spent with him, and I never picked up on...I thought he was asking me, in his own implicit way, to join him. To be his partner - perhaps even to succeed him, should that time ever come! So carried away with the ecstasy of being chosen at all by him, I suppose.
I realize now that for all I could try to mimic him, I could never match him. There is a glory, an innate...aura Lord Ratigan emanates, something indescribable that takes him beyond our simple minds. Of course, he knew it from the start. He's an unmatchable genius, of course he knew from the start that I - that no-one could ever reach his level. Yes, my lord had something else entirely planned for me, and I imagine even you must have an inkling of what was in his mind now.
I'm not sure how long ago it was now, anymore. Over a year at least, possibly two. Again, unimportant. I awoke. He was not there - only a note informing me of where to go, next to, surprisingly, my street clothes. I think they were the clothes I had worn the first day I met him, a threadbare hooded sweatshirt and a pair of tattered jeans. It threw me a little. My lord had already stressed in previous nights that today would be an important day, the culmination of all our work together. For him to ask that I wear something distinctly not suited to the occasion surprised me, but I knew better than to question his mind.
I followed his instructions, dressing myself and meeting him in the main hall, but unusually, it was empty, save for Lord Ratigan, and a gold platform. He welcomed me with open arms, embraced me tightly, kissed me on the cheek. Told me he'd been waiting for this day for a long time. Today, I would be immortalized. He gently held my hand - his touch so delicate, it made my heart flutter. My eyes must have glittered. I loved my lord so. He guided me up to the platform, let me stand upon it. I didn't question any of it, put my trust in him fully. I was right to. He bade me stand there - a little straighter, keep your posture upright. I'm not sure what I was imagining might be happening in that moment. I think I suspected he might bring in a painter, have a portrait drawn of me, much like the one he had of himself. Instead, all I felt was a tightening around my feet, a squeeze as something gripped them. I looked down, to see my fate sealed, although I didn't realize it at the time.
At first, I thought the platform had somehow turned liquid, and begun to engulf me, as though I was sinking into it. My tatty, dirt stained trainers had turned golden, tightened and warped until they had taken on the appearance of dress shoes, much the same as my lord was wearing now. I attempted to move, my legs bending, but my golden feet were now fused to the platform. Panic briefly gripped me - no matter how much you prepare a man for such a thing, some fear will still enter his heart.
I watched, unsure what was happening, in that moment of fear where you cannot quite comprehend what you are seeing, and you are unsure how to react. I realized quickly that my initial hypothesis of liquid swallowing me was not the case. I saw the weak denim tighten, stiffen and harden, the fabric transmuting into solid, immovable gold. It locked my knees into place, and I could no longer bend them. I looked up, still fearful, at Lord Ratigan, saw the grin spread across his face. I couldn't help myself. "What's happening?" I asked.
"As I said before...you're being immortalized." He replied, his enunciation precise and exact, the consonants like little drum beats that made my heart skip a beat.
"But...I thought..." I stammered, looking down at my petrifying form. I had frozen up to my waist, my shabby denim jeans having reformed into the same kind of dress trousers my lord had adorned himself with this day - but shimmering, glittering in the candle light. Even in my fear, I could see how beautiful I was becoming. "I thought...I thought I was going to..." I went on, but he did not respond, simply looking at me with a look of concern, waiting for me to finish. "I was going to become you too...?"
He blinked, like he didn't quite understand the question, but then let out a chuckle - even then, his laugh made me sigh with desire, how delightful it sounded. "You thought...YOU would be becoming ME?" He said incredulously, as though the very thought of it was laughable. He approached me, pressing a hand against my golden waist. "Oh, no, no, my dear boy, no! There's only room for one Napoleon of Crime in London! No...you'll merely be a monument to my perfection..."
I stared at him in awe, as the realization crashed through me - how stupid I'd been! Of course, I could've never hoped to match him! His glory is unique. He outshines me, outshines us all. He is far beyond simpletons such as you or I. None of us could hope to catch up, and the fact that I had thought I could, and the realization I couldn't, made me realize just how great his intellect was. I realized, with a shaky breath, that he had chosen the perfect role for me all along.
"Th...thank you..." My eyes locked with his, and I shivered with happiness. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!" I gabbled out, knowing this would be my last chance to speak with a voice. I had so much to get out, to tell him before I stopped moving. I wanted to reach out to him, but my attempts to move my arms were hindered. They quivered, forcing themselves into position against my will. My right hand, tugging at the cape that had formed over my shoulders. My left arm, raising beside my head. All of me turning to gold, beautiful, beautiful gold.
"Yes, this, this is the perfect, perfect position for me." I blurted. My shoulders had locked in place. It was crawling up my neck "Thank you sir, thank you, thank you, my lord, I'll be a good statue! I'm so honored, thank you thank you thankkgggmmnn--" My voice strangled to a halt, as my face was warped, my pathetic, human countenance replaced with his, my mouth stretching into a sharp-toothed grin to match his own. I had stopped speaking, but my adulation of the glorious being I was becoming a shimmering representation of continued within my head.
What made me me was being completely erased, replaced with him. It felt so right. I wasn't worth remembering. He was. That was why this was happening. My existence was merely to serve his, to proclaim to the world the glory of Lord Ratigan - the very name that appeared in the base of the platform I stood upon, as I froze up completely, never to move again. My eyes stared blankly ahead. I heard him snap his fingers, and his minions entered, wheeling a full length mirror, so I could see my completed form. How glorious I look. He had truly made me perfect. I could never, ever thank him enough.
And...well...that's the story, in its entirety. After that, my days became something of a blur. I was moved here, to my lord's personal quarters, so he could look upon himself. He was even kind enough to move the mirror up here, so I can enjoy staring at my own immaculate reflection. In the time since then and now, I have...I believe, become something that my lord can always rely upon. Often times, he will come up here, after a long day, and lean against me, tell me of his woes and his triumphs. He has told me how invaluable I am - how perfect I am as a sympathetic ear. I love to hear him talk, and I love to be in his presence.
Is there a moral in all of this? I would've thought it obvious - submit your self to Lord Ratigan, and perhaps you have a chance to become as perfect as I am. Ah, look, here he comes now. I can't imagine he will be happy to find you in his quarters without permission, so you will have to do a lot of groveling if you wish to avoid becoming cat food. But keep hope in your heart, little one, and always trust in him! Take it from something with experience - he knows the perfect place for you, too.
the second birthday commission from
AnotherMeekOne - i haven't gotten it often, but i do really like petrification and inanimate tf. of course, it has to be of my fave characters, statues and action figures and such, i'm not one for stuff like furniture or food tf. but the idea of being frozen in the form of a character i admire is very appealing to me, and i love how Meek did it here - i look so wonderful, do i not? glistering and glimmering in gold?so i wrote another story for it! i'm having fun with this
Category Artwork (Digital) / Transformation
Species Inanimate
Size 1400 x 2000px
File Size 728.1 kB
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