The art exhibit had been a grand success.

Many of the less grandiose art pieces had either been sold or released from their duties … Chantarelle had stood to make a lot of money from the single exhibition alone. She’d obviously given a big cut to the hotel and paid off for use of her room. But the single piece she had not sold or released yet was Sarab.

The wyvern had spoken to her, metaphorically speaking. The way he stood so still, the way his wings had been shifted into that vast, grand pose. It spoke to her in ways that very few had done in a long time. It inspired her. Made her want to do more pieces like him.

And she did.

She would get quite a few other wyverns and dragons and other such wyrm-like beings trapped in latex, posed in just the right ways. It hadn’t been easy, luring them into her studio to affix them to their new homes. But… even so, it never was quite the way she wanted. They’d gotten close, sure. But they never just… reached the same sort of beauty that her first piece got to. It didn't compel her as much, and as such she sent them off to museums or galleries.

She had kept the captive wyvern in her home, as she had just been so loath to part with him. The jaguar had even gone so far as to check with the hotel on the guest agreement that Sarab had signed and agreed to… black and white, clear as crystal, he had signed off on a contract that allowed him to be held indefinitely.  Most had to sign agreements that gave staff permission to release them after certain periods or in case of emergency. Sarab had signed no such contract, merely the catch all one that most ‘long term’ guests signed. And since Chantarelle had worked so hard on him, she was allowed to keep him as an art piece… the hotel’s creator and board of directors had talked to her about it over tea, after the exhibit, in the shadow of her creation…

She had been granted ownership of this now hypnotized wyvern, trapped in latex and heavily gagged underneath…

And yet what to do with him?

Therein lay the rub. 

===

He was happy. 

Sarab was pleased with himself. He couldn’t help but think back to them all. The smiling faces, the way they all gazed up at him from his spot in the middle of the room. The interactivity of the exhibit, the way they’d polished his new shell…

It was blissful.

Enough to make him rock hard and needy constantly. His cock twitched under the latex, the only movement that was present in the statue. Sarab had met quite a fate, as he had been encased as part of an art show for the Hostage Hotel’s Gallery Weekend. But this was a new life for him. A permanent one.

How he longed for new eyes to see his, to meet his… he had been trapped in this studio for a while now, and while he was still so relaxed, so content… he couldn’t help but feel the desire for more.

His eyes were hidden behind those pink tinted lenses, staring down at the frowning jaguar…

Begging to be put back out there… beghing to be admired once more…

===

She was in her studio, just observing him. Looking him over, in silence… her eyes narrowed as she ran her hand down his flank, sighing. How could one improve upon perfection? Part of her wanted to change up his pose. To see if she could capture the proverbial lightning in a bottle twice. But… to ruin such majesty for the sake of novelty… impossible. She couldn’t allow it. Not to the extent her brain was going for, anyway.

But… perhaps… minor changes. Improvements. Little things.

The jaguar sighed, pulling her hair back with a headband as she pulled on some gloves. Perhaps some detailing…?

She groaned as she was shaken from her thoughts by her cell phone chiming. Tossing her gloves aside, she picked it up. “Hello?”

“Hey, am I speaking to Chantarelle?”

“Yes, sir.” She recognized the voice of the other… it was the buck she had asked to help her capture Sarab.

“Great! I'm glad I caught you. I was told by my supervisor that we needed to talk to you about your ah, statue.” He sounded a bit sheepish, as it had been a lot of legal jargon, and something that the CEO and board had been in arguments about… “so… I guess you should know, we technically can’t fully release that Sarab fellow into your care.”

“You kind of already did.” She scoffed, paws gently running down his legs and against his restrained crotch. “He’s sitting so nicely in my studio right now. Its hard not to jjst stare at him all night.”

“Yes but I’m afraid that he’s still technically a guest of ours. And we’ve been pouring over the documents, and we can’t hand him off to you completely.”

“Well, you can’t just take him away! As a statue I own his likeness.” The jaguar said with a huff as she started to mold the latex on his legs. Just making paw details, adding some latex here and there on his front to give the illusion of hooves. 

“Understandable. But we have reached a compromise in a sense. We just needed to run it by you.” The buck replied hastily. “We can house him in the hotel as part of the staff. A greeter, guest services, that sort of thing. So while he wouldn’t belong to you as a statue, we could have him be your roommate for the purposes of paperwork.”

“Hm.” Chantarelle paused in her work. “Go on.”

==

Sarab was in a blissful haze.

The wyvern was so relaxed, unable to move… unable to stop himself from feeling his cock pulse against the tight latex. He could feel the way the artist moved the latex around, added to it. A small voice deep inside knew this was wrong, that there had to be a way out. But it was squashed, again and again as he felt himself twitch and leak inside the suit.

He was perfectly still, unable to move even if he wanted to. His legs were carefully tended to, the gloved hands molding the latex to emphasize his musculature… his digits on his rear legs, his claws… while his front legs were hidden under hooves. He could feel the weight of them, engulfing his claws as he struggled to flex and move them… to no avail.

The faint, distant speech from beyond the latex was muffled but he could tell she was there. He stared at her from behind those pink tinted lenses, unblinking as he let his mind drift with delight… vaguely, he felt the way her talented hands pushed more of the latex against his straining cock, leaving nothing but a nulge there… and groan softly as he felt the area go numb. No sensation, nothing could get through… all he could feel was his own arousal and a buried vibe that was a few layers under the latex… it was strong enough to be felt but not nearly enough for him to cum…

Was that what it was?

It was hard to say.

Any time he tried to focus, it just buzzed hard enough to shake him out of it… a good feeling but he could only quietly beg for more…

That sensation was enough to stir him a bit from his daze, wanting to rut against his latex skin… but there was no moving himself. The latex had hardened and cooled ages ago. There was simply no way for him to move unless the outer shell was cut or removed. And the layer underneath was still pliable, but tough…

But why would he want to?

It felt so good… so freeing, not having to think. Just being set up, admired, adored by all who lay their eyes upon him!

He could feel himself being moved, carried out on a large wheeled cart… he barely paid attention to anything except the slow touches he felt against his flank and tail. 

He could feel latex being added. Lots of it. Mostly to the bottoms of his paws and part of his tail. He couldn’t have known he was being affixed to his new position, where he would work and be beheld by all who walked through the front door…

Through his lenses, he could see the artist he had watched before, the lady who had helped put him in this wonderful new shell… it felt so good, so relaxing… she was speaking with someone outside, a buck… one of the workers there? Well… they seemed to be admiring him. As they should. He couldn't help but smile despite his muzzle, proud of himself. For what, he couldn’t quite say. But he was happy.

The buck raised a camera, taking a photo. The flash dazzled Sarab a bit, making him see spots… but all he knew was that he was being admired. And that’s all that mattered to him.