Pygmalion wasn't interested in women. He had seen the Propoetides prostituting themselves in public, and it disgusted him. But he was still a man; he still had certain basic needs.
He started carving using a single large block of marble. He called the work 'Galatea' after the sea-nymph. The female form entranced him – the lyre of the hips, the swell of the breasts. He started carving at the nestled hollow at the intersection of the thighs and belly. As he carved, Pygmalion decided that anatomical correctness was important.
Eventually he had carved enough to do what he needed to do.
"That," said Cupid, "was disgusting. I mean, really now."
"Don't judge, you little creep," said Venus. "We are in the business of love and love-making, after all."
Cupid pointed with outrage down from the clouds where they were relaxing. "That perverted Cypriot," he said, "just carved a hole in a rock and nailed it. That's not love-making, that's statutory rape."
Venus frowned. "Less rape jokes," she commanded. "What Pygmalion does, he does because he has been inspired by me. I shall not condemn him for that, and you shouldn't either."
Cupid sulked. "We'll just see about that," muttered the godling.
Pygmalion worked day and night. The curves of the buttocks, the graceful arch of the neck – these things he drew out of the stone, disrobing the form of woman from its heavy garments of crude marble. As the female form of Galatea swam into clarity, Pygmalion's lust for his work grew. He lay with it several times a day.
"What need have I for a real woman," he moaned as he approached climax. "In this labor, my handiwork, I have discovered perfection. In my affection for my artwork I have found happiness. Venus herself could not craft a greater love."
"Now *that* I heard," Venus said, miffed.
Cupid couldn't look away. "Oh, great; now that he's carved the mouth, he'll be at this day and night. Hey, guy, how about a little hygiene?!"
"This is injust," Venus proclaimed firmly. "I won't stand in the way of any sort of love, but to proclaim this love as superior to anything I could create? Inexcusable!"
Cupid crept up and whispered in Venus' ear. "Then show him," he urged. "Create some love for him that he cannot mistake. Perhaps in the comparison between the two, this sculptor will find humility."
"Hmm," considered Venus.
At last Galatea was complete. Pygmalion marveled at the beauty he had created. She looked so lifelike upon her pedestal.
Then Galatea stepped down. Pygmalion dropped his chisels. "Oh, Pyggy," breathed Galatea huskily. "Some miracle has brought me to life; now we can truly be together."
"Er, um... yes. So it would seem," stammered the sculptor.
"And," whispered Galatea in his ear, "since after your most recent passion your child grows within my belly, our love shall be that of a new family!"
"That's... that's fantastic," replied Pygmalion, looking around for an exit.
But, you see, he was stuck.