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Fragments.ws is devoted to adult-themed transformation stories.
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January 3, 2003
My story starts out simply; I was scanning the want ads one day and found this in the personals column:
So I sent a message to the newspaper and waited. A week later a reply came. It asked if I was available for a week in October and gave me a cell phone number to call.
I signed the contract the man presented to me for an obscene amount of money. The deal was this; they could use my likeness in a bronze statue. Since there are many steps in the lost wax process, I had to pose in the position they wanted to create the first positive. My body would serve as the positive for the first negative mold. Then they would create a second positive out of that mold, I would have to let them use my body to refine this second positive. Then they would create a second negative mold, fire it and use it to cast the bronze replica. The phrase "lost wax" refers to the fact that the second positive is typically made from wax and is burnt off by the molten metal being poured into the mold. The contract required me to stick around for the final polishing of the bronze statue. It also committed me to pose in any apparatus or position they selected. I worried about that, but for the money, I could deal with it. Actually, I needed to disappear for a few weeks and this would give me that chance. I had some gambling debts.
The next day they took me to the foundry out in the countryside and we started work.
Two artisans greeted me and told me that is was their job to prepare my body as the original statue for the casting process. They shaved all the hair form my body and mapped out all the moles and other imperfections. I was more than handled by the two artisans as they did their job. Although I'm not ashamed of my body, I only have about 5% body fat and I am very well built, this preparation went beyond anything I imagined. After the mapping, they told me to get in a warm oil bath to soak overnight. The oil covered me completely and I used a SCUBA device to breath. They sealed the tank and pressurized it explaining that the pressure would force the oil into my skin so the rubber molding material wouldn't stick to me.
The next morning when they hauled me out of the tank and my skin was slick and shiny. Whatever the oil was, it seemed to pull the fat from me and highlight all my muscles. They were satisfied that the original sculpture, my body, was ready for the next step.
The artisans dried me and took me to another room. They told me that this was the hard part. I was to pose while they built a rubber mold around me. This would take a few hours and would be uncomfortable. In the middle of the room was a wooden post with two cross pieces. My final sculpture would be housed in the museum's chamber of horrors. My statue would recreate a sacrifice to the Aztec moon god. It would be titled "the silver crescent sacrifice." I would be tied to the post and made to appear that I had been impaled on it while undergoing various other tortures. I hesitated a little, but the money was good, and a few hours of discomfort would be worth the price.
I stepped onto the foot support with my back against the post and wrapped my arms over the crosspiece behind me. They used tight metal bands to bind my wrists down tight against the post arching my back out and away from the post. Effectively I hung by my arms. Then they fastened metal rings around my head and neck that bent my head completely backward so my mouth pointed up. Another ring covered my eyes so I couldn't see. Two half-spikes were fitted into the ring to give the appearance that my eyes had been pierced by the missing part. They opened my jaw and inserted the top of a four-sided crescent moon into it so that it looked like I was impaled on the crescent.
My feet slipped off the stand and I felt my weight pull my arms tight. I groaned in pain. One of the two artisans lifted my legs and the other slid the lower end of the crescent against my butt. They then lowered my legs and fastened my feet to the lower crosspiece. I now appeared to have a thick four-sided crescent entering my rectum and exiting my mouth. Then they attached fake clamps on my nipples and stretched my balls out through a metal ring. Finally they wrapped a metallic sheath around my penis and let it stick straight out of my body.
I groaned in discomfort and they told me that the only thing they could do was to shoot me up with painkillers. I groaned my approval and felt a needle prick my arm. A warm, soft fuzzy feeling crept through my body as the painkiller took affect. It took a long time for them to completely cover my body because the added sprues and gates to guide the molten metal in the later steps. They let the painkiller wear off and ignored my moans. When they finally unmolded me and took me down at the end of the day, every bone and muscle in my body ached. They suggested that I soak in the warm oil bath overnight as the heat would lessen the muscle soreness. I agreed and got back into the oil and let them seal the tank. I felt the pressure increase as the heat of the oil penetrated my and soothed my sore and aching muscles. The oil seemed hotter than the day before and when they sealed the tank, the pressure felt greater than I remembered. But my body stopped aching and I fell into a deep sleep.
When they woke me, the first thing they did was to make me drink a fermented beverage of some kind. They said it was authentic Aztec and it would hydrate my body. The drink was strong and filling. I rubbed my hands over my arms and legs to remove the oil and my skin felt tight and stiff. The oil left a waxy sheen that made my skin translucent. They hustled me to another room to show me their handiwork. A wax sculpture of my tortured body stood in the gallery. It was magnificent. Or should I say, in all my apparent pain, I looked magnificent as the tortured man. But this wax model didn't have gates or sprues. When I pointed that out to them, they said that this was merely the mockup. Today they would create the wax model and cast the bronze all in one step. I told them I didn't understand and they just grinned. They led me to the other room and there, all the pieces of the "silver crescent sacrifice" lay dissembled. Before I realized what was happening, they had chains on my wrists and were hauling me over to the post. I tried to resist, but the drink made me weak. They quickly yanked my arms over the crosspiece and I was hanging there, again. My spine arched backwards as they attached my wrists to the post down at the small of my back. The rings bit into my skin. I yelled and screamed in pain, but they ignored me. When they fastened my ankles to the post, I really did beg them to stop and think about what they were doing. They informed me that my body was converted to mostly a wax by the oil in the pressurized tank and that I really wouldn't die. My consciousness would remain in the bronze statue for as long as the statue existed. The Aztec men who did this long ago considered it an honor to live forever in the embrace of the crescent moon.
After that, they just ignored my screaming and yelling. Both of them picked up ancient Aztec tools and began to carve hieroglyphs into my skin leaving a bloody trail across my body. When they finished, by body was a bloody mass of mystic symbols. The one took a long rawhide cord and tied it around my scrotum stretching my balls out from my body as far possible. The other artisan inserted a thick rod into my penis and then stretched my penis out securing it with pins. The both chanted something in what I guess was Aztec before they picked up the crescent that represented the moon. It was a long, sliver cresecent shaped, four-sided affair with a ten foot diameter. Unable to move or resist, I could only twist slightly as they pressed the sharp point against my asshole. I screamed as they pushed it slowly into my reluctant orifice. It was thick and spread me wider than I though humanly possible as they worked it into my rectum and began the long and agonizing journey through my body. Pain shot through my body as the crescent moved deeper and deeper inside me. What it couldn't move aside, it ripped apart. I felt it pass through large and small intestines, touch my abdominal muscles near my navel, and push my stomach and liver out of the way. It broke through my diaphragm with a jolt and they guided it up past my heart and into my throat. They worked the tip of the crescent up into my neck and out of my mouth. Then they pushed it out of my body for about three feet. I was impaled on a crescent that bent my body to its shape and curvature.
The bulkiness of the crescent cut off my breathing and as my chest heaved painfully trying to get air into my crushed throat, one of the artisans stuck a sharp tube into my chest so I could still breathe. They fastened the clamp around my neck and bent my head backwards fastening it back with the band that covered my eyes. I felt several screws tighten against my skin to hold the metal ring in position. The spikes didn't stop on my skin they drove the points deep into the bones of my skull. Then, through small holes I could see two spikes being inserted into the holes over my eyes. The spikes closed off the light. In the dark I could hear the screws squeak as the artisans tightened them. I couldn't move and yet I knew that they would not stop tightening these screws until they hit the bone at the back of my eyeballs.
It took forever for the tips of the screws to touch one eyeball and then then the other. But they didn't stop there; the points slowly drove into my tender eyes and deep into my head. I could feel other screws being tightened against my skull, pressing against the bones at the back of my eyesockets tighter and tighter until the points embedded broke through and embedded themselves into the soft material of my brain.
The next thing I remember is the artisans packing me in a heat resistant material. I guess they attached gates and sprues to me. Logically, above my head would be a receiving pot for the molten bronze. I felt and heard their workings for a long time as they built the outer mold around me. It might even have been days or weeks, but finally molten metal flowed over my tortured body and burnt it away just like it was wax.
I felt every cell, every atom of my human body burn as it was replaced by molten bronze at 2000 degrees Fahrenheit. After I cooled, they sanded me, scraped me, beat me, welded me, polished me, etched me, and created a patina over my outside. I spent many years in the museum and after that many years in private collections. I could hear and feel, but not see. Hot or cold didn't affect me, but could tell I spent many years outside. Finally, I remember being crated and left alone for a very, very long time, millennial time.
You might never have read this story, but over time, I discovered that I could control the bronze that formed my body just like I could control my flesh and blood body. Many years ago, I succeeded in freeing my body from the statue and removing my bindings. My eyes have regenerated and my injuries have healed. They opened my crate a few days ago. It is the year 32,847 and a new race of homo sapiens, homo advantus, wants to understand how my metallic body works.
2150 words more or less
FUTURES YET UNKNOWN
Ten Stories by Dave Fragments
*An Alien serial murderer and a furry detective with fleas.
*Murder on a world with altered humans.
*Disturbing apocalyptic visions *Monstrous dystopian societies.
*A man on trial for betraying the human race to robots.
*Devils, demons and ghosts.
*Survivors of a plague war.
*Cyborgs trying to be human.
*Six friends in a strange sinkhole.
*The truth about a world drowning in rain, without sun, without hope.
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