Fragments Fiction

Fragments.ws is devoted to adult-themed transformation stories.

Dave Fragments

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THE LIVING STATUE

June 15, 2005

The convention hall was, as they say, cavernous. Todd climbed onto the stage and stood at a podium in the center of a spotlight. He tried to see the chairs and booths in the hall but couldn't. He smiled a stupid grin and said: "You want me to do the sound check? Oh goody!" Several voices answered in rather vulgar terms. The best comment was to recite the alphabet. Todd recited a partial alphabet. He felt his heart beat faster as he opened his PDA and read from it. His voice was deep, resonant and unfortunately for Todd, betrayed an unqualified pomposity that overreached his complete lack of common sense.

"All they could hear was the sound of the ocean far off in the distance as it thudded dully against the rocky shore. A mist filled the moor surround them in a white shroud, obscuring their view of the castle. They walked carefully and quickly down the path. They had to return to the castle before the moon set. Suddenly, from the heart of the moor they heard it: a lament of otherworldly dimensions that seared the mind and disheartened the soul, a howl of iniquity so evil that all but the brave lost faith as reason fled. The path opened into a circle of stone ruins. We all stopped suddenly as it stood before us."

Rough, red-headed Scotsmen turned their heads and stare contemptuously. "The mud speaks," echoed through the hall and causing chuckles and snorts. Todd ignored them and continued:

"A hound it was, an enormous coal-black hound, but not such a hound as mortal eyes have ever seen. Fire burst from its open mouth, its eyes glowed with a smoldering glare, its muzzle and hackles and dewlap were outlined in flickering flame. Never in the delirious dream of a disordered brain could anything more savage, more appalling, more hellish be conceived than that dark form and savage face that broke upon us … through the mist. Our party stopped, transfixed by the demonic beast that confronted our vision. Nothing in human experience could have prepared us for the sight that now confronted us. A huge, coal-black hound raised its head toward us, snarling and growling, drooling red fire like blood onto the ground beneath it. The legend of the hell-beast incarnated before our disbelieving eyes. This was the hound, the hound of the Baskervilles, the hound sent by a curse to destroy the Lord of the Manor." See footnote below

Todd stopped to take a dramatic pause. A lone Bronx cheer like a giant fart echoed though the hall followed by an anonymous "Fuck you!" echoing through the empty hall.

"Well, fuck you too!" Todd quipped. His voice rose two octaves and squeaked. Flop sweat appeared on his shirt. The sound system whined with feedback and then settled down. Todd launched dramatically into the next part of his narration.

"Confronted by the hideous visage of the hound, we stood transfixed. In ordinary circumstances we would have scattered, but here, here on the moor, we stood rooted to the ground. To either side of our party was the mire and grip waiting to claim us for any misstep. In front of us was the hound. Our hesitation nearly cost one of our party his life. The hound, spawned in eternal damnation and raised on vile hatred, knew by some unearthly method that it stood face-to-face with the current Lord of Baskerville Manor. Despite our best efforts to hide him, the beast had an uncanny ability, a preternatural capacity, an inhuman and ungodly cerebral link that guided its leap directly to the throat of the Lord of Baskerville Manor. Those huge jaws capable of ripping the throat from a human body in one snap."

Todd stopped and looked out at the commotion. Whistles and catcalls greeted his gaze. At least three workmen were bent over waving their naked asses at him.

"What the hell are you people doing in here? We're supposed to be getting ready for a conference of schoolchildren tomorrow not whatever you're all doing," Charles bellowed from the back of the hall. Everyone stared. The workmen snapped quickly back to work and hid in their work. Todd gripped the small podium and flexed the muscles in his thick arms.

"Charles?" Todd asked. His voice sounded small in the large hall. He had to wait until Charles reached the edge of the stage before he spoke again.

"Back away from the microphone. Back away slowly and back away now. Let someone else do the sound check," Charles said firmly and authoritatively. Todd picked the papers he was reading and held them to his well-developed chest.

"I guess this means I won't be doing a dramatic reading?" Todd put on his best naughty little boy look. Charles shook his head from side to side.

"Absolutely! The hound, the hound of the Baskervilles will remain safely on the moor in its doghouse," Charles said dramatically. He shook his head from side-to-side for emphasis. The few grips in the auditorium broke into spontaneous applause. Todd turned a bright shade of red. Still, he tried again.

"But we're in Scotland and we're on a moor and it's vintage Conan-Doyle, sort of, maybe," Todd whined. A faceless voice echoed in the hall: "it sounded more like the poodle of the Passaic Swamp and not a real hound." Todd cringed. Charles ignored.

"And we," Charles emphasized the word; "we are selling ski equipment to ten-year old boys and girls. Do you want those kids to have nightmares? A story like that's going to have them running home to mumsie and daddy screaming in fear and pissing their beds for a week." Both men heard a voice from the hall answer 'fight-on, governor' punctuated by several deep male giggles.

"But, it's just a story," Todd pouted.

"And you're here to sell ski boots. Now put that paper and don't pick it up again," Charles ordered.

"But…"

"No buts. You're the best model we have. You're not going to do dramatic reading. You're going to model ski boots," Charles said.

They didn't speak to each other the rest of the day. That night, back at their hotel suite, Charles and Todd undressed silently. The suite's bathroom was large and had a walk-in shower big enough for two men.

"I supposed you're going to make me pay for my little temper tantrum?" Charles said. He soaped his body in the hot water.

"Naw, the Scots really hated my additions to Conan-Doyle."

"Too lurid? How could they tell?"

"They said they'd beat me if I read it aloud again. Apparently, my delivery was too melodramatic for Sir Arthur's," Todd washed Charles' back. His touch felt so good. They humped each other in the shower. Charles's trouble with having a lover half his age was keeping up. Todd wanted to continue after they rolled into bed. Todd snuggled up against Charles' body. His hot and sexy muscles felt so good.

"Charles, Charles, Charles, Mister Wiggly hurts. He needs help," Todd whispered.

"Mister Wiggly? Why are calling your cock Mister Wiggly?"

"Help me! Mister Wiggly's been bit by a snake and you have to suck the venom out of him," Todd continued. His stiff cock poked through Charles's legs and tickled his balls.

"Suck the venom?" Charles mumbled as he rolled around to face Todd. They kissed and let their cocks stiffen together.

"Suck the venom? That's a romantic thought," Charles mumbled as he nibbled and licked his way down Todd's body.

"It's the line that a neighbor used on me when I was ten years old. He thought I didn't know what a cock or a blowjob was," Todd's body quivered with lust as Charles's hot mouth sucked on his nipples. Charles began to lick Todd's muscular stomach down to the head of his engorged cock.

"And you obliged, I presume," Charles said as he dug his tongue deep under Todd's foreskin. Todd moaned.

"First time I just jerked him off. The second time I was prepared and stuck my cock in his throat and stuck a finger up his ass."

"You are truly wanton, evil and perverted," Charles said feeling the orgasm building his body. They both slept soundly that night.

The next morning Charles woke first and set a large box on his side of the bed. He watched Todd's sleeping body - the slow movement of his chest, the thick thighs, perfect buns, muscular back. The cold air did its job and woke Todd. He opened his deep green eyes and smiled. Rolling over onto his back, Todd flexed his thick arms and stretched his legs. His cock lolled back on his stomach half-erect.

"I see the boots have been delivered. Today is the day, isn't it?" Todd sat up and picked the lid off the box revealing a pair of gleaming fire-engine red and shiny black ski boots with stainless steel bindings.

"Garmont boots… red, black and silver… just my colors," Todd picked up the boots and admired them, adding: "and shiny, too. I'll have a metallic finish, won't I?"

"You look good when you're metallic silver."

"Yeah, but it leaves a tangy, metal taste in my mouth like eating too much oregano on cheap pizza," Todd laughed. Smiling, Charles handed Todd an ovoid cup-like gadget.

"Ah, the ever present modestly shield," Todd sighed. "Why can't I be completely naked?"

"Next month in Greece you can be completely naked. Here is Scotland you have to be just a little modest," Charles shrugged. Todd placed the cup over his cock and balls and up tight against his stomach. A small vacuum machine pulled it tight against his body effectively hiding his genitals.

"There, all nice and smooth and decent," Todd replied. He stood up and posed for Charles to see and then he sat down and wiggled his size 13 feet in preparation for wearing the boots. He teased Charles with his movements.

"You know you want to suck these toes." Todd's eyes twinkled with glee. Inside the vacuum cup he felt his cock stiffen and grow bigger. He rubbed the cup as it bulged a little under the pressure. I might not be naked but I'll surely have a big basket, he thought.

"After the trade show I'll suck your toes," Charles knelt at Todd's feet and held the ski boot open. Todd worked his feet into the boots one at a time balancing himself on Charles and the furniture. When they got the boots on, Todd stomped his feet deep into boots.

"Someday you'll figure out how to make these things work without socks," Todd mumbled. He went over to a pair of skis, lying on the floor. He stepped into the bindings. The skis latched to the boots with a loud snap. He pretended to be skiing down the slopes - his knees bent, his head forward, and his arms outstretched.

"By the way, you put me outside and let all those pigeons and seagulls shit on me, I'll beat the shit out of you when I get reanimated," Todd put a big grin on his face and signaled his readiness to Charles. Charles closed each of the eight steel latches on the boots snapping them tight and locking the boots onto his feet.

A familiar cold hardness crept through the bones in Todd's feet and moved up through his bones locking his body into the pose. Charles watched as he stiffened. Todd told him that the initial transformation of his skeleton to plastic not only made him feel stiff and rigid, but also lighter and less substantial. The skeletal change only took five or so seconds. It would take another two minutes for Todd's soft tissue to transform into plastic and another five minutes for the joints to form so that Todd could be dissembled and reassembled. Charles waited patiently until Todd fully changed then he sprayed a wax like finish over Todd's plastic body that made it shiny and reflective.

"Well, ready or not, it's time to get you to the floor of the convention," Charles said as he loaded Todd's various pieces onto a cart. The trade booth was 25 floors down and two buildings over. Tradesmen and exhibitors roamed all over the exhibition floor building booths, installing electronic equipment, setting up displays and proofing handouts. As Charles walked past them with the pieces of the now statuesque Todd, a crowd started to follow him so they could be the first to see Todd when he went on display. A living statue enthralled an audience, enticing them, stimulating them.

Not many companies could afford living statues and even then, the number of living statues was limited to a handful of volunteers whose bodies had been specially altered. Todd won the rights to be a living statue during one of those cheesy reality show competitions. He wanted Charles to join him as one of the few, but Charles refused and simply worked to keep Todd safe during his exhibitions. Charles focused on assembling Todd and the display. Satisfied, he quietly took a seat behind the display where he could watch Todd and listen to an audio book at the same time.

Throughout the day, Charles noticed that one of the local workers kept visiting the display. He would stand and stare at Todd until one or the other of the salesmen approached him and then he would leave quickly. The worker was young, barely into his twenties, ruggedly built from hard work and rugby, and when he spoke, he sounded dumb as a post. He was part of the moving gang that did nothing but set up the heavy displays and when a convention wasn't in town move marble slabs from the local quarry. His clothes were covered with a white dust from the quarry. The other workers used and treated him as dumb muscle, lift this, haul that, move this, carry that. That's good work for a strong back, they would say.

Late that night after the convention shut down. Charles moved Todd around so he could watch him disassemble the display booth. The young workman showed up to help. He was tall, heavily boned and thickly muscled. Under the mass of reddish-blond beard Charles could see a string chin. The last piece of the display was the granite base that Todd stood on. It weighed over 400 pounds. Without asking the young worker gently lifter Todd and set him aside. Then he picked up the granite base and lifted it onto the shipping pallet. Charles stood there speechless.

"H, h, h, h, how does the living statue get s, s, s, s, hipped?" the young worker asked. He stood ready to move Todd anywhere Charles required.

"He travels with me in animated form. I just need to take him back to my room. Thanks for all your help," Charles said. He patted the young workman's thick and solid shoulder.

"Can I carry him? Ever since I w, w, was a k, k, k, k, child I've had fantasies about the living statues," the young worker asked.

"Sure," Charles said as he released the ski boots from the skis and straightened Todd's arms and legs so he would be easier to carry. The young workman picked up Todd the statue and followed Charles through the moving walkways lined with velvet Elvis's and municipal artwork. It contrasted with the ancient armor lining the hotel lobby. The desk clerk and a bellboy stared at the statue and the two men carrying it as they negotiated the elevator.

"He's not heavy. Awkward, but not heavy," The workman's voice was deep and heavily accented. Charles carded the suite door.

"I know. I've hauled him around when he's a statue," Charles said. The workman set the statue down and stood admiring it.

"What's you name, young man," Charles asked. Startled, the workman turned quickly and faced Charles. The workman had deep green eyes to match his bright red hair.

"Aindreas Caleb McInnis," he answered.

"Well, Aindreas, if you want to watch me reanimate a living statue, hold him up so I Can take off the ski boots," Charles ordered. Aindreas wrapped his thick arms around Todd's plastic body and lifted him high off the ground. Charles undid the snaps and pulled the boots from Todd's feet. Aindreas felt Todd's body grow warm. Todd reanimated from the outside. First his skin changed and then the transformation moved through his muscles and into his bones. He ceased being hollow plastic and once again became flesh and blood. Aindreas let Todd's feet touch the ground and stared into Todd's eyes. Todd smiled, hugged the big man and planted a kiss on Aindreas's lips.

"You can reanimate me anytime, big fella!" Todd said. He cautiously extricated his body from Aindreas's grip and hugged Charles. They both set to work removing the modesty panel that covered Aindreas's crotch. With their attention on other matters, Aindreas took the boots aside and studied their insides. He discovered the hidden transformation apparatus and changed its numerical settings from one to seven. He quickly stepped into the adjacent bathroom, dropped his coveralls and underwear. Then he stepped out of his boots. Naked, his muscles rippled and flexed. He pulled his socks off his feet carefully listening to the two men outside.

"I really dislike these huge suction cups," Aindreas said as the device released its suction and released his cock and balls. He looked around.

"Where'd the workman go?" he asked. Todd called for Aindreas.

"Taking a pee," he answered from the bathroom. He flushed the toilet to gain a little time. The ski boots were big enough for his feet. They felt warm and slightly used. He snapped the latches shut on both boots and posed in front of the mirror.

"Where's the boots?" Charles looked around. Both Charles and Todd realized that Aindreas had taken them. They rushed into the bathroom. He stood in front of the mirror, arms cocked, muscles flexed, cock half-erect, with the boots locked onto his feet. He was built like a Roman god but not completely smooth, he was covered with fuzzy-red hair.

"I think I would make a good mannequin, don't you think so?" Aindreas asked. Charles and Todd stopped and gazed.

"Would? You will be a good statue," Todd answered. "If your feet feel cold, that's just the start."

"But he's not been prepared," Charles gasped. Todd shrugged. Aindreas smiled at the two men. Charles tried to stop the transform but the Aindreas's fiddling with the boot latches sealed his feet inside them for seven days.

"I've been prepared for years. I've thought about and fantasized about being a statue of some kind since I was a child," Aindreas declared. His eyes traveled to the reflection of his knees and legs in the mirror. He tried to flex his knees but they wouldn't move. His bones were turning into plastic, growing hollow and rigid.

"That remains to be seen, Aindreas Caleb McInnis. By now half of your skeleton has turned into hollow plastic. In a few seconds, all of your musculature and internal organs will begin to shrink outward and form hollow walls. Your head will grow hollow too. I hope you're prepared for that," Todd said. Aindreas couldn't move his arms. They were stuck in position. He barely had enough control left to grin broadly before the bones in his face turned to plastic. Todd grabbed the workman's hands. They felt cold but still soft and pliable. He pushed the fingers together. The skin on Aindreas's legs and hips started to change into plastic. Todd grabbed a round deodorant stick from the counter and used it to force open the workman's asshole. The workman could do nothing to stop Todd.

"And once your body is completely transformed into plastic, we can add metal fastening plates just like you see on store mannequins. We'll be able to separate your limbs from your body. That's going to be fun," Todd added. He watched as the lower portion of Aindreas's torso turned to solid plastic. In a few seconds Aindreas would feel his heart and breathing stop. Body hair started to fall off his new, shiny, slick plastic skin.

"Don't worry about anything. You're going to be OK. You'll continue to see and hear even when you're completely plastic and you'll still have the sense of touch," Todd pushed Aindreas's head up just before it hardened and then watched as Aindreas's head hardened. A lightweight, textured mannequin stood where just a few minutes earlier a young workman stood.

"He looks better with his head a little up," Todd said to Charles. He rubbed the hair from the new statue's body. All that lovely golden red body hair is just falling away, he thought. He brushed all of the hair off the workman's plastic body.

"You can hang a sombrero on that cock of his," Charles said in amusement. Todd went over to his luggage and got the spray wax.

"Let's shine him up. At least we can take a few pictures for him to see how he turned out," Todd said. Furrows formed on Charles's forehead. Todd simply sprayed the statue in front of him with light oil and started to rub his bare flesh against the plastic. The workman still had his sense of feeling.

"I don't know about this. You're taking advantage of his immobile body," Charles said. Todd humped his erect cock against the statue's phallus. Still able to respond in some way, the phallus grew thicker and longer. Although the transform made the body rigid in a short period of time, slow, steady muscle pressure could still make the statue move slightly for about half an hour after the initial transform.

"Nonsense. Take my word for it; he'll thank us when he's reanimated. I know what I feel like when you wax me. This is going to give him a buzz that'll last for days and days," Todd said. He humped away, cock against cock until he spurted a load of com all over the statue's stomach. He scooped his spunk form the front of the statue, lubed his cock and shoved it up the statue's open butt hole. He humped the workman like a man possessed. Charles simply gave the statue a blow job. Todd was correct, the statue was experiencing orgasms and they could tell when it happened. They screwed, fucked and sucked the statue until the sun came up. By that time they could feel a nearly continuous orgasm in the statue.

Todd and Charles showered. Charles ate while Todd phoned in the report of the new living statue to the head office. They talked for the better part of an hour.

"We're to box up Aindreas and ship him to the head office. Travel is going to change our itinerary so we can be there when they reanimate him. They say he'll need a class 3 power supply implanted," Todd relayed to Charles. He placed a hand on Aindreas hard chest and felt the waves of pleasure that still resonated through the statue's body. Charles plugged an oddly shaped electrical device into the wall socket and handed it to Todd. He strapped it over his left bicep and lay down on the chaise lounge.

"I may as well eat, too. Wouldn't want the power cells to run out of juice in the middle of the airport, would we," Todd said.

"No, we don't. Do you think Aindreas will understand just what he's done when he awakes?" Charles said.

"I hope so. I want a chance to make love to all those big muscles in the flesh," Todd answered and closed his eyes to rest and recharge.

NOTE: The italicized section of the text is a quote from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's The Hound of the Baskervilles. One of the truly great stories in the literature

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