“Butter?” Helen repeated back over the short wall that separated her changing room from Bri’s, “Did I hear you say butter?”

“Well, yeah,” the short haired brunette replied from the other side. She was admiring her body in the bikini she had picked out, her orange-sized breasts swaying seductively in the tiny fabric, her ample ass making a thong out of the bottoms, “You asked, ‘If I had to spend the rest of eternity as a statue that could see and feel and everything, what would I want to be made out of?’ and I would choose butter.”

“I’m still not seeing the reasoning there…” Helen replied, pealing a tight sweater off of her torso and adding it to a pile of cloth on the floor, “…I mean, I think most people would-”

“Choose marble? Jade? Gold?” Bri interrupted, posing one last time in her swimsuit before she began to untie the top, “I mean yeah, I’d like to be pretty for eternity, but if I can still see and feel and hear like you said, doesn’t it stand to reason that I could still taste?”

“I guess so…” Helen replied.

“So, if I can still taste, that would mean the only substance near my taste buds, hell it’d be my taste buds, would be whatever I’m made out of…” Bri slipped the bottoms out of her ass, dropping everything to the floor and taking a moment to pose her naked form in front of the mirror, “And I don’t think marble or gold would be the taste I’d want stuck in my mouth forever. I mean, once you’re an immobile statue it probably doesn’t take long before you no longer care what you look like. But I’d be really pissed if I had something foul in my mouth for eternity. So I pick butter.”

“Very well, so be it,” replied Helen as she suddenly opened the door to Bri’s small room. The naked woman had only a moment to turn her head towards her friend before she was rendered motionless. Bri felt a strange sensation run across her body. Her flesh suddenly felt heavy. Cold. Her breathing stopped. The color of her body faded from her beautiful olive tone to a dull yellow. She could sense a thick, oily sensation across her form.

Somehow, she knew she’d never move again.

“That’s for sleeping with my husband,” Helen stated, a smug look on her face. “Since we’ve been ‘friends’ for so long I figured I’d let you choose what you’d be made of. Since you picked such an original substance I’ve added a cooling spell and a shaping field, so you don’t have to worry about melting or breaking apart. Enjoy eternity, you homewrecking whore.”

Bri watched helplessly as her transformer turned and started to walk away, before Helen stopped and turned and addressed her former friend one last time.

“Oh, and I hope you like margarine.”

Bri didn’t.