It'd been a few days at the mansion. It was almost non-stop sex, except for sleep, and Benjamin's business arrangements. He'd been busy, setting up a event at the nearby racetrack, and inviting friends to an art show. The girls both knew he was planning something with the chronivac but it wasn't clear what. He kept all his changes in a password protected file and forbidden either of then from changing it.
The night before the exhibition, Benjamin politely sat on the edge of Freya's bed while she laid on top the covers in a hula skirt. They'd been dancing; and now she had a beautiful tan and smelled sweetly of olive oil. Benjamin pressed a few buttons on the chronovac and her skin went back to a solid white and a fushia stripe of makeup running from the top of her left breast to her toe. Her hair and lips were made up in the same color to match. She started to sit up but he pushed her back down.
"It's time," he glanced down at her stomach.
Freya bit her lip and smiled, and laid back, waiting. "Finally."
He took her hand on hers and felt her stomach. It'd cooled down completely, though she was always rumbling now from the gas chamber inside of her.
"Guess I'm done cooking," she smiled and they kissed. Benjamin let go of her hand, standing up to take out the chronivac. He opened her profile and started to change her body's water content, all the way to 99%. But instead of water he changed it to paint.
Freya started sweating and her abdominal nostrils were venting a thick, cocoa smell that quickly started overpowering the room. Her feet went first, pooling inside her boots and pouring back down to her butt, then her waist, bubbling from the venting air until her internal organs turned to mush. After a few moments they could see the golden resin that her body had formed, its weight drawing the rest of her into a puddle at the depression it made in the comforter. Benjamin reached in and turned the block so that the cocked-shape hole was painting downwards and began draining out, then stepped back.
"That's.. that's it," Freya bubbled out her mouth as she spoke, "Change me back."
"Not just yet." He kneeled next to her bed. Her eyes widened, "What? But.."
"There's going to be one more art that I didn't tell you about." "What? I'm..."
"Shh now. It's almost over." He put a finger on her lips, which collapsed like a thin shell, and then she started crying tears that melted her away, until there was just a white mask remaining. That too, melted moments later, a white lump collapsing into the black puddle that was Freya's hair, all of which slid on top the rest of her pastey body like the yolk of a freshly cracked egg.