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"Come on, you're gorgeous and successful, you'd make the perfect trophy wife." My co-worker didn't even seem to understand that I was complimenting her. "Sure, some guys just want gorgeous girls as their trophy wives. But I want mine to be successful, powerful, in control, and to fall in love with me and surrender themselves to my will. And I've chosen you as my perfect trophy wife. So what do you say?"
All I'd gotten from her in the past five minutes was "no" over and over again. But, she ran her hand through her lovely blonde hair and said "Why don't you come to my place and I can make you dinner tonight? I'll show you what a trophy wife is good for." She turned and left, her thick booty shaking from side to side as she walked.
Man, I knew she'd change her mind if I just kept asking. I can't wait for dinner.
***
She answered her doorbell promptly, as if she'd been waiting for me obediently. Good.
"Welcome to my home. Please come in. I've already prepared your dinner."
She wasn't in an apron, but I'd get her in one soon enough. "Lead the way."
She led me to a dining room table with room for six. There was only one place set at the table, and she indicated it to me. "I didn't think it was my place to eat at the same table as you, so I shall wait over here if you need anything." She obediently stood in the corner, watching as I took my seat. She had probably eaten before I'd arrived, but if we ever need to eat dinner together I'll have her eat it off the floor on her hands and knees. But this is a good first step.
She'd served me some lovely turkey, coated in gravy. Just how I liked it. There was some other stuff on the side, but I'm a carnivore who uses anything other than meat as filler. But even a healthy heaping of turkey wasn't enough to satisfy my voracious appetite, so I scarfed down whatever else she had put on the plate.
When I asked for seconds, she just started laughing. She gave me a sinister grin, and said "Why don't you come over and make me?"
I tried to stand up, walk over, and put her in her place with a few punches. But I couldn't move.
"I've poisoned your food. Don't worry, you won't die. Although the person you currently are will die."
I tried to plead with her for mercy, but all I could do was try to have a pitiful look in my eyes. She just laughed again.
"You can't move your head, so you can't tell. I'm turning you into a solid gold statue."
I stood up in shock. No, I didn't make the decision to stand. My body had moved on its own.
"Yes, I'm keeping my promise. I'm showing you what a trophy wife is good for. Although, I don't think you expected to be my trophy wife."
My body took a couple steps to turn to face her. She held up a mirror, and I could already see the changes.
My feet were trapped in solid gold high heels. No, as my eyes moved up my body, I could see that my legs were coated in gold. Some kind of tights? They shone, and looked like something you'd see a bimbo in. I don't know why I jumped to that comparison.
My thighs seemed thicker than usual. This was only highlighted by the tight, golden booty shorts that seemed to give me the hips and ass of a curvy porn star. My bare waist was as thin and also coated in gold.
I'd tried to ignore the heavy weight on my chest, but once my eyes locked onto them I couldn't tear my gaze away. Golden breasts, that looked like they had to be a G-cup, hung from my formerly male torso. That was when I realized I was in deep shit. It didn't feel like something stuck to my chest. They were real. I had breasts that would make a porn star dizzy.
Only my face was the same as before. The rest of my body no longer belonged to me. It was like I was a golden bimbo statue from the neck down.
"So it seems you've admired my handiwork. You see, you're not the first man to want me as his trophy wife. Although I'll give you credit for being the most blunt about it. Anyways, I decided the only thing to do with a man who wanted to turn me into a trophy wife was to turn him into mine. If you like trophy wives so much, I have a closet full of them. Why don't you take a look."
She led me deeper into her house, and my body followed her against my will.
She led me into her basement, past her entertainment center, through a private office, to a trophy case. She grabbed an Employee of the Year award and moved it just a couple inches to the right. As she did, the bookshelf moved a couple inches, and then swung out. Behind it stood her real trophy room.
I counted about a dozen golden statues, all with buxom bodies and tight clothes, all made of solid gold. Even their big puffy lips and long flowing hair were gold. If I had found this on a good day, I would start jacking off on the spot. But now I was ready to wet myself in fear.
"What's wrong? I thought you loved trophy wives? Oh, what's that? You don't like them if you're the one who has to give up his identity to become eye candy? Well, welcome to the club. Now, if I were a better person, I would release you to live a better life now that you've learned your lesson. But I'm one nasty bitch, and the idea of keeping a collection of feminized men as trophies turns me on."
She snapped her fingers, and I walked up to her, standing face-to-face with her. She leaned in as if to kiss me, letting her lips linger just a hair above mine. Control of my face returned, and I prepared to kiss her.
Then she turned her head and whispered in my ear "I thought it'd be fun to have a statue with a cute kissy face. I've gotten bored of the neutral expressions I gave the others. And who knows, maybe the  next poor schmuck who falls into my web might get a chance to kiss my new favorite trophy before I seal the deal. But you'll never know."
There was a flash of bright, golden light. It never faded, it soaked in my mind and soul, leaving my body an empty shell, a solid gold trophy with no substance inside.
Some poor schmuck gets turned into a solid gold bimbo statue.

I really liked the voice I gave this character, even if he's a one-and-done. So far, I haven't come up with a character I'm interested enough to flesh out and develop past one story, but who knows what the future holds.
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March 5
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