Fragments Fiction

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

Dave Fragments

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ATLAS

February 6, 2006

"So this is where the parole board holds you when you're not in jail," Brandon laughed and pushed open the door to Studio Abelard. He stepped inside and gave Abe a quick bear hug.

"Parole board, we weren't that wild, were we?" Abe hugged his friend and felt new, thick muscles under the baggy sweatshirt that Brandon wore.

"You've gained some weight over the school year,"

"Yeah, I changed from wrestling to gymnastics and I don't have to starve myself down to skin and bones anymore," Brandon pulled his sweatshirt up and over his head. He had a thick, stout body with powerful arms and shoulders, his back formed a natural V-shape. He made his muscles ripple. Brandon used to complain that he had to stay too thin when he wrestled and that he envied Abe's narrow-waist and broad shoulders.

"And what, gained twenty-five pounds of muscle?" Abe's eyes gave Brandon the once over admiring the sheer size and definition of his body.

"A little more than twenty-five pounds, gymnastics really tightened me up. I gained fifty pounds of solid muscle on my arms, legs, my back, even my calves and forearms. Hard to believe isn't it? But the scale don't lie, fifty pounds of muscle." Brandon beamed and flexed his arms and shoulders. His body looked huge, massive even. Abe wondered what that college was feeding Brandon and if it was legal and undetectable. Brandon finished showing off.

"And you've stayed fit, too. I see," Brandon said giving Abe a once over look. He smacked Abe on the shoulder and nearly knocked him over. Brandon turned around and gave the studio a good look. He counted three hunky young Hispanic men tending various molds and clay models throughout the large studio. Abe showed him the statue gallery of his latest commission dealing with Greco-Roman gods. All of the statues were representations of naked Greek or Roman gods in classical poses. One in particular, a handsome Nubian Perseus holding the head of the Medusa caught Brandon's eye. It was only the full-size clay model but it bore a clear resemblance to Abe. It definitely was Abe's with heroically broader shoulders and muscular build.

"I see you're still sculpting statues of people you know. This is all your work, isn't it? I remember when you covered me in plaster of Paris and tried to mold my body. That almost worked," he said laughing. Abe shook his head in agreement.

"The worst part of it was trying to clean all that plaster dust out of my bedroom. It never seemed to go away. I still keep a little jar of that dust just to remind me how I started in the business."

"And your parents never let you forget it," Brandon laughed.

"Our teenage misadventures aside, I have a secret to tell you. I spent almost a year studying with a stone master in the Andes perfecting my techniques. It's a great process and the only drawback is that it involved live models. The Incans I worked with were all very willing but here in the States, models are harder to hire. That's why I asked you to model for a statue this summer," Abe put his hand on Brandon's shoulder and looked directly into his eyes.

"It doesn't matter to me how what process you use. I'm just glad you're becoming well known and having success. You know that my body is always for sale when one of your statues is involved. I got pumped arms, ripped abs and huge thighs just waiting for you," Brandon said.

"That and two years tuition plus deposited in your bank account," Abe said.

"You are more than generous, you're a friend. I didn't even think twice about saying yes. What's the job you want me to do?" Brandon asked.

"I have one client who wants a Perseus at his swimming pool this summer and another who wants an Atlas at his front door. I finished the Perseus. We're going to cast the stone version tomorrow. I thought you might be interested in modeling for Atlas," Abe answered.

"The Atlas who holds up the sky," Brandon asked. Abe unrolled a conceptual drawing. He never dreamed that Brandon's body would be as big and as strong as what stood before him.

"No, it's the Atlas who holds the world on his shoulders. It's a big and ambitious fountain." Abe unrolled a drawing to reveal a huge, over-muscled Atlas and a slim young holding up a globe of the earth. The globe was twice the height of the figure of Atlas. Nymphs, Naiads, Mermaids and dolphins surrounded and supported the Atlas.

"Wow, how that's huge," mused Brandon. "I guess I resemble Atlas. I'm big enough and strong enough. My feet are in the water, but that doesn't matter. I don't care how wet my feet get. Who's the second figure?" Brandon mused.

"One of my workmen has volunteered. Will you do it?" Abe asked.

"Certainly I'll do it. My body's at your disposal for the next few months." Brandon put on an attitude to make Abe laugh.

"Great, I got to tell you, that globe is so big, not even you can hold that it up in the air. Its framework is made of stainless steel and weighs two tons before we add the concrete," Abe said seriously. Brandon's eyes opened wide at the thought of holding that much weight.

"Two tons before you add concrete, that's a serious challenge, Dude, a fucking class-A challenge… I read somewhere that you could change some galactic or geophysical constant and make things like change their mass," Brandon teased. Both men laughed.

"In your dreams, Bro, in your dreams, rather than change the laws of physics, I plan to shove an I-beam up your ass to support the globe," Abe said. He braced for Brandon to smack his shoulder. However, Brandon didn't. Instead, he grabbed him and put a headlock on him. His grip was like a vise.

"With or without Vaseline, goofball," Brandon laughed heartily and rubbed his knuckles across Abe's skull.

"It's your asshole, Dude, you tell me. I only know that you can stretch your big, fat ass out that big," Abe laughed and struggled. Brandon held him tight. He let out a big sigh.

"Why do I let you talk me into these things? Why do I agree to these things? It certainly ain't your charm and good looks, boy, no sir, it certainly ain't," Brandon said as he released Abe's head. They wrestled around for another few minutes. Then they had to get down to business.

"My Perseus statues ships in three days. Your Atlas will take seven days to heat and cure. I'll have to leave you with my workmen. I hope you don't mind," Abe answered. Brandon slid his shoes and socks off his feet. He let his baggy gym pants drop to the floor leaving only a thong to cover his genitals.

"So what are you waiting for? Let's get started. Am I going to have a fig leaf or a hanging hot dog?" Brandon asked. He was never one to waste time.

"Let it dangle." Abe called his workmen over and introduce them as Miguel, Miguel and Miguelito. He pointed to Brandon and announced that he was Atlas. The three men stood there, their eyes big in wonder at Brandon's physique. They spoke an odd dialect that Brandon didn't understand. It was obvious that they admired Brandon's body. Each of the three assistants had a mass of thick, straight, coal-black hair on their heads.

"Couldn't you afford real names? Miguel, Miguel and Miguelito," Brandon pointed to each. The three men answered "Si" nearly simultaneously. Abe laughed. Brandon could see the family resemblance in their faces and reddish-copper skin tones. He guessed they were Uncle, Father and definitely son. The two older men were thick set and muscular. The young man had lost his baby fat and hadn't yet gained any adult bulk. He stood tall and when he moved, you could see his wiry muscles slide easily his bones. There wasn't a hair on his body. A handsome young man on the verge of adulthood, Brandon thought. He matched the second figure in the drawing. Brandon slid off his thong and tugged his cock and balls free from his stomach.

"No, I couldn't afford real names. However, have no fear. Each of us has taken a turn as a model and you can trust them with your life. We all know what we're doing," Abe said. The three men muttered in their odd language at the sight of his long and thick uncut cock. Miguelito's skin turned a bright red. The two older men poked Brandon's immense biceps and said something. Abe smiled and shook his head affirmatively. He said something in their language. The youngest answered him. The three men pawed Brandon's body, squeezing his muscles and poking at his bulk.

"Miguelito likes your muscles and wants to be like you. They're sorry you can't understand their dialect. They're pureblood Incans. You're the first palest white man they've ever seen. Even I have a tan nowadays," Abe joked. His skin was a rich chocolate brown. Brandon's skin was pale white and pink.

"A tan, a tan, you really are rotten. I remember when you tried to pass as high yellow," Brandon pretended to be offended. He flexed his arms and shoulders and pretended to growl at Abe. Puzzled, Miguel and Miguel looked at each other. Miguelito laughed at the joke.

"OK, ok, no more jokes. The process work's like this: We mold soft clay to your body and then seal you inside a larger mold. During the curing process, the clay hardens and holds the shape of your body. After that, the rest of the statue is set in place and then Miguel and Miguel will polish the statue and box you up." Abe half-explained the process.

"Sounds like the typical hoses in the orifices, huh?" Brandon commented. He was familiar with the basic process.

"My favorite part, hoses in the orifices," Abe laughed, "they're going to make me into a Nubian Perseus with Medusa. You can watch. I'm going to be, what else, brown marble. You, by the way , will be bluish-gray granite," Abe said. He pulled his clothes off and stood naked. As if on cue, the three Incans shed their work clothes. They revealed naturally tough and sinewy dark-skinned, hairless bodies stained with clay and rock dust. Brandon speculated that cleaning the stone from their naked bodies was easier than worrying about clothing.

"Well, I'm going to become Ares, the god of war. I'd wait, but this process requires firing and slow cooling so I have to go first. Good luck and remember you can trust these three," Abe said as he walked over to a shell in the shape of the Perseus statue. It would fit his body exactly. Abe carefully positioned himself on the platform. He stepped high up onto his toes and let a tube in the rear of the mold slid into his butt hole. Brandon watched as the three natives began to smear a layer of crushed brown rock suspended in oily cement all over Abe's body. They carefully fit the material to every fold and curve in Abe's body down to the smallest detail as they removed any void that might spoil the final statue. The three men began to assemble the mold around him. Brandon watched as they carefully and gently positioned Abe's body within the mold and locked the pieces in place.

Brandon watched intently as the mold covered more and more of Abe's body. He crossed his legs trying to hide his erection but eventually Abe's encasement in a mold was so exciting, he just let his cock stand straight up against his stomach. When the three naked men had covered everything but Abe's mouth, they inserted a tube for him to breathe and sealed the mold over top of him. A cement shell covered the Abe mold and metal straps held the package together. They looked to Brandon for some sort of approval. Embarrassed by his erection, Brandon put his hand on his cock and tried to bend it but it remained hard and stiff.

"I'm impressed. That's an amazing process you guys have there. When do you open it and let Abe out of the mold?" Brandon asked. The two older men looked at him with very puzzled expressions. The youngest of them, Miguelito spoke with an accent.

"He no come out until after we bring statue back from the museum, when contract end Senor," Miguelito said.

"After… he's going to remain a statue all summer? Oh, that's right. He didn't tell me how long he was going to remain as Perseus," Brandon shuffled. He stuttered because of his foolishness.

"He contract is for two months at the swimming pool of his friend. Please Senor, don't tell him I've learned Anglish, Senor Abe didn't want us to learn Anglish but my Father and Grandfather insist that I learn," Miguelito said.

"It doesn't matter to me. You can tell him whenever you want," Brandon said.

"My Father and Uncle want me to say that we've never seen a Senor so big as you and with such fine muscles and so strong. It's an honor for us just to work on your body, to memorialize, yes that's the word, memorialize you in granite. I think I said it," Miguelito hesitated.

"Well, when you say fire the statue, what do you mean, real fire and heat and all that? I'd love to see it before you put me into my mold," Brandon asked. Miguelito explained Brandon's request to his Father and Grandfather. They smiled and elbowed each other.

"Of course Atlas can have any wish he wants. My Father will be sure that you see Senor Abe's mold while it glows white-hot. First, we have to cover your body with special oils and rock dust," Miguelito answered. Miguelito's Uncle and Father used a pallet lifter to roll the mold holding Abe a huge furnace and sealed the doors. Brandon watched as he lit the gas pilots at the base of the furnace. Brandon couldn't hide his erection. He knew that Abe was still alive inside the mold just waiting to turn into stone. His heart beat faster at the thought of becoming stone. Uncle Miguel motioned to him to look into the peephole. Brandon could barely see the small blue natural gas pilot lights. Suddenly, bright yellow jets of flame poured out of the burners and spread their fingers all over the mold. He watched as bits and pieces of the mold began to heat. In a few minutes, the metal straps glowed red. Miguelito and his Grandfather interrupted him.

"Atlas, forgive us, but my grandfather says your turn will come soon enough," Miguelito said. He was naked. His body seemed to stretch out to his height. They began to rub the thick granite paste onto Brandon's forearm and hand. The kid's touch was hot and electric as he spread paste onto Brandon's body to form a crusty coating. Brandon felt the oil seeping into his flesh. The paste, whatever was in it, felt warm and sexy. As they covered his back and neck with the paste, Brandon flexed his back and neck muscles. He closed his eyes and let them work. Miguelito's thin fingers were especially adept at the tender parts of Brandon's anatomy. He fit them expertly into every orifice of Brandon's body, foreskin, butt hole, ears, nose and finally mouth. Brandon licked the paste from the boy's fingers as if it were a sweet, candy treat. He could feel the boy's heart racing as he did. There were tears on the young kid's face.

"What's all this?" Brandon asked. The boy hesitated. His Grandfather poked him. Obediently the boy began to translate.

"Atlas, My Grandfather wants me to tell you of a legend among our people about an Atlas, the strongest man in the world, who takes a human son to live with him, to become one with him," Miguelito blushed, even through his coppery coloring, his skin turned red. Sexually aroused and enjoying the body worship, Brandon smiled. He dipped his finger into the pot of granite paste and smeared it into Miguelito's mouth. Then he kissed the kid and held their mouths together until they both swallowed the gritty paste. The two older men quickly covered Miguelito with the granite paste turning his body from sinewy red-brown to a dark gray granite color. Brandon felt the kid's surprisingly large erection against his stomach. He grabbed the boy's hips and lifted him to his face. Granite paste covered the boy's cock. It smelled delightfully cheesy as he sucked it into his mouth. He held the boy in the air until the boy jerked and a load of white-hot man-juices from his young testicles burst into Brandon's mouth. Spent, the boy went limp in Brandon's arms. Slowly Miguelito worked his way onto his knees and sucked Brandon's much large and thicker cock into his mouth. Brandon could feel the hot tongue, the stone paste and slick oil all over his cock as the boy worked him to a huge orgasm. They each grabbed handfuls of oily stone paste and spread if over their bodies. The two older men chattered at teach other again. Miguelito translated.

"My father says you should look at Perseus," he said. Brandon went over to the furnace. The air around it was hot as waves of heat poured off the walls. He looked through a peephole. The mold encasing Abe glowed bright red verging on orange. Brandon's heart quickened. He wondered what Abe felt inside the mold as the heat consumed him and turned him into stone. He didn't pay attention to the other two men preparing the in a stone slab that would be the base of his statue.

"Is he aware of what's happening to his body?" Brandon asked.

"Si, Si, Senor. He feels the heat. It gets very hot in the mold. We've all done this for Senor Abe. He's made all of us into statues since we've known him. This is NOT his first time. My Father and Uncle made him statue many times back in Peru. We usually stayed at a museum for a week and then return to the workshop to be flesh and blood again," Miguelito answered.

"Will you be there when my contract is complete?" Brandon asked. Miguelito looked a little confused.

"I am your chosen. It is as if I am the son of Atlas, I will stand with you supporting the world. After that, I belong to you. That is our custom. Two men converted together should always stay together," Miguelito answered. Brandon looked back into the furnace as the temperature grew hotter and the mold grew white hot.

"What's white heat feel like," Brandon said. Miguelito didn't answer. Brandon wondered what was going through Abe's mind as the flames converted his body into marble. The heat from the furnace made the paste stick to his skin. Its gritty roughness felt natural to his fingers. The two older men pulled them away from the furnace. They pointed at the stone slab. It had a large pillar offset from the center and four steel bolts sticking up from the floor.

"Stand on the bolts and let them penetrate your feet. It won't hurt. The oil will make the metal slide through you," Miguelito said. He stepped firmly onto the metal and impaled his foot on the two bolts. There was no blood. Cautiously, Brandon did the same. He marveled at the lack of pain. They positioned a pillar against Brandon's back and stood Miguelito against his side. Miguel and Miguel screwed large washers and nuts onto their feet and hid the metal under oily stone paste. Bolted to the stone, neither Brandon nor Miguelito could move. Their genitals brushed together and stiffened. Miguelito reached down and stroked Brandon's cock. His father smacked the back of his head. Miguel the Uncle brought a light plastic ball the size of the globe and motioned for Brandon to hold it up on one shoulder and support it with his arms. He stood tall and upright with both arms spread out wide. Miguelito stretched his body upwards and supported the fake globe with his arms.

"My father asks us to hold this position while they install the steel bracing," Miguelito eye's betrayed his anxiety. Brandon felt vibrations through the slab. A round metal bar snaked its way up through the floor. It slid against the back of his leg and pressed against his ass. He gasped as it opened his body and began to slither through it. The rod hissed like a snake as it traveled through his body and bonded itself to the bones of his spine. It finally poked its way out of his shoulder just at the point where the globe would rest. Reinforced with steel, Brandon knew he could hold any weight they placed on his shoulders. He heard Miguelito gasp as a smaller rod entered Miguelito's much thinner body and snaked its way up against his spine, through his shoulder and up his right arm. Both of them breathed heavily from the exertion. This could really be permanent. I'm bolted to a stone slab with a thick steel beam bonded to my spine, Brandon thought. He felt sexually aroused by his helplessness. He looked down at his raging erection. Miguelito was all smiles and excitement.

"We support the world between us. We needed a little help," Miguelito said. He turned his body on its metal spit so that their stomachs touched and supported their erect cocks. Sexual fire spread through Brandon's body.

"I like this position," Brandon said slowly and sensually. Miguelito repeated his wish to his Father and Grandfather. They nodded their delight at the suggestion and used the rock paste to cement them together. They built the mold around both men and boy. When they got to their heads, they had both Brandon and Miguelito bite on hollow stone mouthpieces. Brandon assumed that these were for breathing tubes. The Uncle and Father finished almost the entire mold except for their eyes, nose and faces. Brandon could feel the granite material compressing his body, making it denser and more compact as it conformed to his musculature. Miguelito's Father set two large buckets of the oily granite paste in front of Miguelito and Brandon's heads. He fastened their breathing tubes to spigots on the bottoms of the buckets. Then the Father and Uncle set both buckets high above them. There was nothing left to do but swallow the stuff. Brandon swallowed as fast as he could. He tried to drain the bucket before he had to breathe but the Uncle showed up and refilled the bucket. Brandon wanted to ask why they hadn't done this to Abe, but he couldn't. He felt the paste fill his stomach and begin to displace his internal organs and muscles. It filled his body and pushed outward against the tightness of the mold. He realized that he wasn't going to be hollow, but solid granite. The old man didn't stop at one additional bucket. Brandon's eyes bulged at the second bucket. He couldn't object. Neither could Miguelito. His insides seemed to suck the stony material into his body in spite of all logic. It didn't matter if he swallowed. He just let it flow inside him. He couldn't stop it. It took five or six buckets before the old man removed the mouthpiece and sealed Brandon's mouth closed in a suitable expression.

Brandon could still see Miguelito's face as the boy's Father spread the oily paste over his eyes and then closed the mold around his son's head. He could feel Miguelito's body against his and felt the boy's heart beating hard in his chest. His own heart still beat. Brandon didn't realize it, but his heart no longer pumped blood. It pumped liquid rock. What did I expect them to do with the mold? Brandon thought. Miguelito's Uncle covered his eyes and sealed the mold. Now there was only darkness. He felt the mold jerk and move. They must be sliding it into the furnace. The mold grew hot and fiery changing Brandon and Miguelito's bodies into stone. It was a glorious heat, a cleansing heat, a transformative heat, a heat that grew into a white-hot orgasm and then died away to cold and dark hardness. It stayed dark for a long time.

The next time Brandon saw light, a blue sky greeted his eyes. He felt the huge globe representing the Earth resting on his shoulders. He couldn't move yet, but he could see and hear. He stood high up on a stone platform in the center of a grassy mound. The songs of birds, the warmth of the sun, the chill of the wind, punctuated a vast panorama of mountaintops and green forests that lay before his gaze. He felt Miguelito's body against his body. The boy's cock, still erect, and still resting against his own raging erection wasn't the only thing arousing Brandon. Naked men worshipped at his feet, hundreds of worshippers, maybe even thousands. He recognized Miguelito's Father and Uncle performing rituals while dressed in feathers and leather. He wondered if Miguelito knew that they were the object of the worship and veneration. Then he realized that Miguelito must have known all of this back in the studio and he willingly offered himself up to be worshipped as the son of a god.

Days passed. Months passed. Seasons passed. Years passed. Decades and then a century, and a second or maybe a third century passed. Brandon lost count. The men still came and worshipped. Their rituals changed but stayed the same. Their numbers slowly fell until only a handful presented their naked bodies to Atlas holding the world. Then there were none, not for many days, days that stretched again into months, seasons, years and centuries. Even without worshippers and sycophants, Brandon never felt alone. Miguelito always stood next to him helping him hold the immense globe, his lithe body resting gently against Brandon's body, his rock-hard cock rubbing Brandon's larger, thicker erection, their stomachs and sides bonded together in stone. They might have remained that way forever, bound together in granite, gods without worship, religion without faith, deities of times past and things barely remembered. They might have stood there atop the mountain watching the seasons of the earth pass but for a violent thunderstorm whose monstrous lightening burst found the metal globe, destroyed the globe above their heads, melted the bolts that held their feet to the slab and reanimated their bodies. For the first time in centuries, they stood as flesh and blood. They stood naked and exposed to the thunderstorm most of the night. The heavy downpour washed the dirt of ages and stone from their bodies. As the storm cleared, the morning sun rose and poured out its life-giving heat to the two men. Shattered concrete and the bent steel frame of the globe lay to one side of the platform they stood on.

"We seem to have a dilemma. We have to get off these rods so we can survive." Brandon said the obvious. The metal rods piercing their bodies remained firmly embedded in the stone beneath their feet.

"Si senor, I don't think we can depend on anyone else. I haven't seen a man for many, many years," Miguelito twisted his body around the metal rod as if to find someone hiding from him.

"Did you know what your Father and Uncle were going to do with us?" Brandon asked.

"Yes, I wanted to tell you but they wouldn't permit it. We didn't plan it. We didn't know we were going to do it until you showed up that day. As soon as we saw your body, we knew you were our avatar, our fire bringer. There was so little time for use to prepare you. Still, our worshippers came for 277 years." The kid surprised Brandon. He kept track of the years.

"Two hundred seventy-seven years, are you sure? Do you know how many years it has been since the worshippers stopped coming?"

"Yes, it has been another 208 years since the last man performed the rites," Miguelito answered.

"Wow, you mean that we've been standing together nearly five centuries. Why, you're such good company, you know, I thought it was only 400 years. I guess that my tuition has gained a little interest, huh?" Brandon said. Miguelito didn't understand his humor. Brandon reached above his head and grabbed the metal rod. He couldn't lift himself up. Miguelito's position seemed worse. He had one arm stuck up stiff in the air. Brandon touched his ribs under his arms and the younger man giggled and squirmed. They pulled as close as they could and kissed. As Brandon reached around and held Miguelito, he discovered that he could lift Miguelito up off the ground.

They realized that if Brandon would lift Miguelito's body, he might just be able to slide him off the rod. Miguelito braced himself against Brandon's body using his long legs and supple feet. It took a while but eventually Miguelito popped off the top of the metal rod and fell onto Brandon's shoulder. After that, it was a simple job for Miguelito to find enough stuff for Brandon to stand on and slid up the rod. When he finally slid off the metal beam, he fell over and landed with a thump. The rod left no marks or evidence that it ever was part of Brandon's or Miguelito's body. They hugged each other.

"Do you know where we are?" Brandon asked.

"When I was little, my Grandfather used to talk about a temple near Pucallpa. I think we close to Pucallpa," Miguelito answered. He leaned against Brandon's chest so he could hear Brandon's heart beating and the air rush through his lungs. Sounds he hadn't heard in many years.

"Pucallpa, you say. You couldn't prove it by me. By the looks of this, we're in rainforest country and not the high Andes. All the same, we need to find food, water and some sort of shelter before nightfall. In case you haven't noticed we're naked and it might be nice to have clothing," Brandon said to Miguelito.

"I know we're naked Senor. It's hard for me not to want, uh desire, to make love to your body to thank you for my honor of being your companion," Miguelito said in imprecise English.

"With all those men coming to worship us, shouldn't there be a building of some sort to hold all those bits and pieces they wore?" Brandon asked. Miguelito's face lit up.

"There should be a structure for the high priest and worshippers to prepare for the rites just below us over that way somewhere," Miguelito said. He looked around and pointed out the other side of the large, flat area in front of them. The sheer size of the plain surprised Brandon. He remembered days when the worshippers filled the ground before his eyes. Now, as they walked across the Soft moss and grass, he could see there was just as much land to either side of where they stood. Behind them, unseen by their eyes for all those years, a fountain poured out fresh water into a shallow pool and a rambling stream. Beyond that, A gateway showcasing broad steps of flat slate encircled the summit and lead down to a landing nearly 1000 yards from the summit. He could see that they were not in the high Andes, but their statue had been set up on an artificial hill in the Amazonian rainforest. At the base of the slope, they came upon a rock door flanked by monolithic rock walls that opened into the side of the mountain.

"A spirit door for the priests and chosen of Tunupa, the Avatar. It's almost just like the legend was told to me, the Avatar brought the sacred fire to man and taught the use of time for calculating solstices, and equinoxes. We are his chosen. We are the issue of his loins, the children of the mountain. That's why they turned us to stone. We are the reincarnation of the Avatar. We were taken to the top of a pyramid to be worshipped as was fitting our roles. This is a very sacred place for us even now that we are flesh and blood. It is sacred." Miguelito said reverently.

"Well it might be sacred, but we need some clothing," Brandon said.

He pushed the door open and went into the room. Miguelito rummaged around behind him. He found matches and lit a lantern. Their eyes grew accustomed to the dim light. Spider webs and dust hung on everything. Ancient and modern paraphernalia filled the room - primitive axes, bows, arrows and clothing from several different centuries. Brandon surveyed his options. It was warm outside and he only needed protection form the cold at night. He also needed something on his feet. Miguelito looked at the ancient stuff.

"All of this stuff looks too old to be of any use," Brandon asked. He brushed dust and spiders from the clothing. Most of it had rotted and was just waiting to fall apart. He picked up a heavy leather boot and shook it upside down. Crawly things scattered as they hit the ground. Brandon frowned. He twisted the boot and it fell apart. Miguelito handled what looked like a feather covered jock strap. The leather pulled apart and the feathers fell out. He picked up another loincloth and harness from the ceremonies. It too fell apart from age. An infestation of moths the size of airplanes made clothing in the lockers unrecognizable. Miguelito picked up a briefcase and opened it. The paper and clothing inside it crumbled from age.

"When we decided to create the Avatar, we thought that someone would be here at the end of the 1000 years of preparation. We never expected we would have to create clothing that would last. This stuff is about as useful as crotchless panties in a whore house," Miguelito said to no on in particular. Brandon looked over at Miguelito.

"What do you know about crotchless panties in a whore house?" Brandon laughed. The young man was chuckling and dancing. His body looked so sexy and inviting.

"But Senor, I did not come to you a virgin," he laughed and batted his eyelashes. His moves betrayed a vibrant sexuality that belied his age.

"I didn't know that. I assumed you were a virgin. But now that you way that, your so good looking I could see where you wouldn't stay a virgin for long. By the way, do you know how to find food in the jungle below us? I think we're going to have to hike to find civilization." Brandon caught Miguelito admiring himself. The kid knew he looked good and acted on his good looks.

"Oh Si Senor, there is good fruit in the jungle. If my guess is right, we aren't too far from my own village." They continued to rummage through packages, boxes and duffle bags. They all were rotten and insect ridden.

"And who says your old village is still there. It's been five hundred years, you know. I'll bet we find either no cities or cities so immense they take up half a continent," Brandon remarked. He instantly regretted the comment. It was apparent that Miguelito hadn't considered death into his time as a statue. Brandon dug deeper into the room.

"My village is gone, we never talked about that. I guess I thought that my Father and Uncle would be waiting for me at the end of the time of preparation," Miguelito rubbed his chin with his hand. "I just, Senor, realized, Senor, I have to ask you. They're all dead, aren't they, my Father, my Uncle, my family, the village?" he asked. Brandon could see the tears form in his eyes.

"No one lives five hundred years. All you've got is me. That was the bargain you made, wasn't it? I'm the Avatar and you become my son," Brandon said softly. He hugged Miguelito against his body and comforted him. They continued opening the remaining carry bags and footlockers. None of them was promising until they found a ribbed aluminum footlocker wrapped in multiple layers of heavy plastic.

"This has promise, maybe," Brandon said. He took a folding knife and started to cut through the plastic layers. Miguelito hacked at the case with a machete. It broke open only to reveal a half dozen pair of lace up sandals and nothing else. Both men looked at each other and laughed. The sandals at least fit their feet and the long laces neatly wrapped up their ankles and calves. On the way out, Brandon opened a final locker and found a mirror. He carried the mirror outside into the sunlight. Brandon stopped in the sunlight and looked at his arms and legs. When he saw his face, he realized that his skin wasn't pale white anymore.

"Look at me, Miguelito, look at my body. It took me a while to realize that I'm not pinkish white anymore. I'm dark and I used to have blue eyes. Now they're a deep shade of brown. We're both the same shade of copper. Did this ever happen when you or anyone else was made a statue," Brandon asked.

"I was copper from birth, Senor. I get darker in the sun," Miguelito laughed. Now that Brandon pointed it out to him, he took notice that Brandon wasn't white anymore. Over the years, he forgot that Brandon, his Atlas, was pale white. His new copper coloration seemed so natural when they reanimated that he never noticed the change. Brandon was sexy with white skin and all his muscles, but now that his body was a mass of copper colors, his muscles stood out and his body seemed to flow with sexual power. The color deepened in the folds and inner curves of his body.

"I feel like an orange, you know. No, no, no, I feel like one of those funny tangerine fruits or a mango with the orange inside. How do you go through life looking like an orange? Were you orange as a little kid or did you become orange when your cock and balls got big? Maybe I'm jaundiced, huh? On the other hand, maybe we got dipped in Saffron by a bunch of wayward Buddhists. It's a terra cotta nightmare. That's what it is," Brandon fussed and acted disturbed. Miguelito didn't know what to say. Perplexed, he stood there and took a good look at Brandon.

"Senor, what do you mean by all this? You are a god to me," Miguelito sounded nervous. He really didn't know that Brandon was teasing him.

"I'm different and I just realized it. I've changed. I'm all copper. You know what? I'm really staggered by being copper. Do you really know what it means? Do you know what I feel like right now?" Brandon poked a finger at the boy's chest. Miguelito struggled for a response. Emotionally he was still a child even thought his body was nearly full grown.

"No Senor, I don't," Miguelito danced and shuffled nervously. He stammered and jumbled up his body. "am sorry for what my Father and Uncle did to you. It was wrong. If the lightening not strike us, we'd still be Atlas and his son holding up the world. If you wish, I will leave when we reach the city. I," Miguelito nearly broke into tears. He dashed back up stairs and onto the large flat top of the pyramid. Brandon raced after him. Even thought the kid was only few years younger, he ran twice as fast as Brandon did. He called to him but the young man was determined to reach the pedestal that they stood on for so many years. Miguelito reached the fountain and stopped. Brandon his thin body and lifted him from the ground. Miguelito felt as solid as a rock in Brandon's powerful arms. He pushed against Brandon's strong arms.

"Miguelito, I was joking. I'm sorry. You don't know English well enough to understand. I want you to stay. I'm happy to be copper colored. I'm thrilled to look like you and I'm proud that you look like me. Miguelito, listen to me. I feel like your father. I want you to be my son and my lover. You're the bravest person I know in this world and I think we should stick together," Brandon said. He hugged the younger man's chest to his chest. Miguelito sobbed softly and clutched Brandon as if he was the last man on Earth. Brandon kissed the center of the young man's chest. In a year, it would become a man's chest, thicker, broader and heavier. They crumpled into a heap and embraced.

"I love your body. I love your voice, your funny accent and odd English. I want your body next to mine - today, tonight and every night after this, I want you. I'll never leave you." Brandon stopped only when Miguelito's tongue found his mouth. The two men lay on the soft mossy grass and made love to each other next to the fountain. The sun climbed high into the sky before they rolled out of each other's embrace and lay against each other's body on the grass. Brandon stared into the young man's deep brown eyes. He saw sorrow in Miguelito's eyes. The unconditional passion in Brandon as Atlas and in his beliefs in the misguided convictions of his Father and Uncle had been shattered.

"Do you regret being with me?" Miguelito asked.

"When your father or your uncle, I don't remember which one, poured the second bucket of stone into my mouth I knew that they intended to turn us to stone and leave us that way. I did have feelings of regret but then, in the fire, when flesh and blood burns away and we turned to stone. The harder my body became, the more I loved it. So no, I don't regret it. And now, being here with you, well you're special, just like me. We've lived into the future. We're both strong, healthy and once again filled with hot blood and pulsing flesh." Brandon added the last over the top comment just to arouse Miguelito.

"I love your pulsing flesh especially that wonderful cock of yours," Miguelito entwined his arms and legs around Brandon's body. Brandon wrapped his arm around Miguelito and with one hand on the boy's butt pulled him tight. Brandon's other hand stroked the back of Miguelito's head. They kissed. Their passion turned to play. They began to roll and grappled like two little boys without a care in the world. Brandon was stronger, but Miguelito could bend and twist his body into impossible positions. Grass stains and dirt streaked their bodies. Miguelito broke free and ran into the fountain. Brandon bounded in after him with a huge splash. The water was waist deep and the battle became a wet, watery and slippery wrestling match. Miguelito couldn't escape Brandon's iron grip but he could slide his body underwater and slip away from the larger man. They whooped and hollered at each other splashing water in all directions. Wet, their bodies gleamed like molten copper. The sun glinted off their bodies producing brilliant red flashes of light.

In one big mighty grab and plunge, Brandon dragged Miguelito under the water and they grappled. They both knew that this was the wining move. Whoever surfaced for a breath was the loser. They grabbed and pulled at each other's bodies. Out of the blue sky, a half dozen pair of black-booted feet and dark legs stood in the water around them. They actually darkened the water. Brandon and Miguelito stood up and looked at the figures, spouted water from their mouths, pulled their hair back off their heads and brushed the water from their shoulders and arms.

"We're not alone my Father," Miguelito put his arm around Brandon's shoulder. Six well-built men in dark green camouflage outfits with black berets stood around them. The water lapped at the crotch of their pants. One of them pointed a small ovoid thing at Brandon and Miguelito.

"Step away from each other and drop your weapons," the apparent leader said. Good, they speak English, Brandon thought. He didn't recognize any of the symbols on their uniforms.

"The only weapon I got is the one between my legs," Miguelito said. At first, Brandon frowned and then he laughed. He pushed Miguelito's arm off his shoulder and held his arms out to show that he was naked.

"I'm not carrying any weapons. Just my big, thick cock hanging between my legs, too," Brandon answered. Two of the soldiers giggled. These guys couldn't be much older than he was. At most, they looked thirty years old.

"I said step away from each other and drop your weapons," the man roared and bellowed.

"Uh, Lieutenant, they're naked, really naked, absolutely naked, positively naked," said one of the soldiers. He tugged at his half-wet crotch. He sank his body into the water up to his waist.

"Yeah, and they both have big dicks and nice ball sacks. I'm impressed," said another. The two soldiers giggled and sloshed in the water. The temperature was well into the 90's and the humidity of the rainforest was brutal. Sweat stains appeared on the soldiers backs and under their arms.

"I know they're fucking naked, Sergeant, and I can see then have dicks and balls," the Lieutenant bellowed at his Sergeant. Then he returned his attention to Brandon and Miguelito. Now if you don't obey me, I'll be forced to incapacitate you." They all looked at each other and said nothing.

"Lieutenant, Sir, if I may Sir, we should leave the water, Sir," one of the other soldiers said.

"And why is that, Trooper. Are you afraid of a little water?" the Lieutenant bellowed again.

"No Sir, I'd happily follow you into any water at any time. Water doesn't bother me, Sir. It's just that your Taser will charge the water to 100,000 volts and I don't want to get shocked, Sir. Can we get out of the water, Sir?" the trooper snapped to attention and water splashed around as he did. Brandon tried everything not to laugh but this pushed him beyond any hope of self-control. Startled by the reaction, the Lieutenant dropped his guard just enough for his Sergeant to reach out and take the Taser from his hand. He stepped out of the fountain and motioned for Brandon and Miguelito to do the same. Brandon and Miguelito walked over to the side of the fountain and climbed out. The Lieutenant didn't say a word. He acted as if he had done nothing wrong ordered his men out of the water. The four troopers dove through the cool water to reach the sides of the fountain. The Sergeant threw the Taser to one of the Troopers and jumped back into the water. He quickly got out of the water completely soaked.

"I guess we can dry out our shoes and clothing while we interrogate the prisoners," the Lieutenant barked. The troopers quickly removed their wet clothing down to their skimpy underwear and socks. They set their cloths to dry and proceed to set up a portable tent so that they could sit in the shade. All of the troopers were tall, taller than Miguelito and definitely taller than Brandon who only stood five foot ten inches. Brandon and Miguelito's copper colored skin contrasted with the trooper's olive colored shadings. They all were well muscled, broad shouldered and as far as he could tell, well hung. Brandon and Miguelito sat cross-legged in the grass. Their cocks and balls rested unashamedly on the grass between their open legs.

"How did you two get here?" the Lieutenant asked. Brandon noticed that the men had body hair in all the proper places but that he and Miguelito only had hair on their heads.

"We were brought here by Miguelito's Father and Uncle," Brandon answered. One of the soldiers scanned them with a computerized device. It beeped and buzzed several times before he finished.

"Yeah, I used to live nearby in the village of Tehunapaupaukakan. It was just east of Tihickytootykakan," Miguelito answered. Brandon caught a gleam in his eye. The Lieutenant eyed them suspiciously.

"We just decided to come up here and wrestled. It's a father-son grudge match. I was beating his ass before you arrived," Brandon said. The lieutenant didn't flinch but his Sergeant quickly turned away to stifle a laugh.

"I'd like to beat that ass." One of the soldiers whispered to another. He didn't realize that they could hear him.

"Cut the fucking shit out you stupid asshole," the Lieutenant bellowed at the Trooper.

"Look you two, I have no idea how you got into the middle of a restricted zone. No one has been here for two hundred years by decree of the United World Congress. There is no village nearby, so don't pull that lie out again," the Lieutenant knelt upright with his hands on his hips. Even with the obnoxious personality, he was hunky and attractive.

"If we tell you the truth, you won't believe it," Miguelito replied.

"Try me," the Lieutenant ordered.

"Remember that statue of Atlas holding up the world? Well, I was Atlas and Miguelito was my companion. His Father and uncle converted us to stone many years ago so that they could worship us as gods. Lightening struck us during the thunderstorm last night and reanimated us." Brandon said. The Sergeant went with one Trooper to inspect the statue. He came back and reported it shattered into pieces on the ground. Even with that knowledge, the Lieutenant didn't believe the story. He checked some text on a tablet that he took from his pack. Brandon guessed that it accessed something like the internet. He handed the information over to his Sergeant and the Troopers.

"After the last of the religious wars, the Committee on Religious Reconciliation and Atonement surveyed this site and documented the statue. No one has been allowed here since that time. You can't expect me to believe that you were statues," the Lieutenant folded his arms on his chest and waited for a reply.

"Nice guns, Dude, and yes, we were the statue. Why else would we be here naked, without food and no visible transportation?" Brandon said. One of the Troopers brought the tablet back and showed the Lieutenant something. Brandon couldn't see it.

"Do it," the Lieutenant ordered and the Trooper set a small gadget on the ground. A hologram of the statue of Atlas appeared before them. The Trooper manipulated the image so that Brandon and Miguelito's heads were next to the image of their heads on the statue. The resemblance was startling. The trooper motioned for them to stand and he manipulated the image of their erect cocks next to the real thing. Again, the resemblance was perfect.

"Image recognition places it at 80% certainty for the heads and 90% certainty for their units. This algorithm has never been wrong, Lieutenant."

"And there's nothing left of the statue, just the globe and pillar?" the Lieutenant asked and the Trooper agreed.

"My medical scan indicates that their bodies still contain large amounts of stony material consistent with having been granite. The remaining minerals act like pigments and that gives them their coppery-red coloration. Their genetic structure conforms to that of four to six hundred years ago. They have never lived in our time. Their genetic material and antibody load just doesn't match ours in any way," another Trooper added to the information.

"I was born in 1986 and we were statues for 485 years. I kept count," Miguelito boasted. One of the Troopers recorded the years in the tablet.

"And I was born in 1980. I consider myself twenty-six years old," Brandon said.

"We always look like we're in our late twenties. They build it into our genetic structure. We are all twice your age. Tell me why you called him your son," the Lieutenant night have been officious and blustery but he wasn't stupid. This was a discrepancy in their explanations.

"I only met Miguelito the day we were transformed but after our adventure in stone, I feel like we belong to each other. He's a good kid and I'm proud to call him my son," Brandon answered.

"Yet as we flew over here, our long distance imager showed you two making mad, passionate love," the Lieutenant stared directly at Brandon.

"Just horny after five hundred years, I guess. We stood all those years with our hearts beating together and our dicks touching each other. You can't get more personal than that. Why do you ask? Is there some law against sex between men?" Brandon asked hoping the answer was in the negative.

"No, not at all. All those restrictions were repealed years ago," the Lieutenant said. He stepped aside and talked with the Sergeant. They plugged small earphones and mouthpieces into the tablet computer and had a one-sided conversation. Brandon poked Miguelito.

"They're talking to their superiors about us. We should be OK," Brandon said. He wanted to reassure Miguelito. He had his doubts but he hoped for the best. The two men talked for a long time before they closed the tablet and signed off their radio. The Lieutenant smiled as he came over to Brandon and Miguelito. He called his troopers over to listen.

"Good news gentlemen, we will be your debriefing and medical team. You need inoculated against the diseases from the past five hundred years and we need to develop immunity against the diseases you might carry from the year 2000. As for debriefing, two of my Troopers have degrees in history and their assignment will be to learn everything you know about your cultural and historical times. As for living accommodations, we are to stay here until we are assured that you're disease free and non-contagious. That could take a few years. We might have to inoculate our entire population. Command and Control is flying in tents and other supplies. You are not to wander the rainforest," Lieutenant's men were giving each other high fives and congratulations. He paused. Brandon spoke up.

"Why the celebration," Brandon asked. The Lieutenant nodded to his Sergeant.

"They aren't going to house us in a high-level containment facility. We get to stay here in the sun and open air. As long as we don't go into the rainforest, we're OK. The law forbids any development of the rainforest, even as small as tents for eight men. When the CO and CO2 levels rose too high in 2250, the people of the world revolted and fought Environmental War. The Treaty of Africa and America specified that the Amazonian rainforest and Central Africa be free from development. It's strictly enforced. The rainforest supplies oxygen for the world, you know. But we'll get to stay here for however long it takes to assure you're medically safe," the Sergeant smiled broadly.

"We'll mark off the boundary so you needn't about violating it. In my opinion, we can be liberal about setting the boundary. After all, since eight men are to be living within it, it doesn't make sense to crowd into a small area. No sense in filling our lives with privation and adversity, closeness breeds contempt," the Lieutenant explained. The Troopers were excited and happy. The Lieutenant held his hand up to regain their attention.

"There are other restrictions. You two are not to make yourselves the subjects of a religious adoration or any other form of worship. A hundred years ago, we received communication from an extra-terrestrial race of beings. The resulting religious wars ended with the defeat and banishment of all religions. You have memories of religious idolatry that are anathema to all Earth governments. We don't want you inadvertently starting a revival," the Lieutenant explained. Brandon bit his tongue. He worried about hurting Miguelito again. Much to his surprise, Miguelito spoke up before anyone had a chance to say anything else.

"After my Father and Uncle betrayed me into believing in their religion, I don't want any religion again. I stood there for years while silly men in stupid costumes performed idiotic rites to my godhead. They were fools and morons and I will not be part of that again," Miguelito sounded bitter. Brandon knew that someday he would have to help the young man face that bitterness, but not today. He put his arm around Miguelito's shoulder and hugged him. Just his physicality calmed Miguelito.

"What about women and sex?" Brandon asked. The Troopers laughed and giggled.

"The last wars, the wars that nearly ended mankind were genetic. The Asian Yellow Coalition developed a gene therapy that produced ninety-nine boy babies out of every one hundred babies. The European-Persian Federation released a plague that sterilized most women. Before the triple A's, the Americans, Australians and Africans Union could win the war and treat the plague, less than one tenth of one percent of women were fertile. The result of both these genetic manipulations is that we now have a society were women are sequestered and protected to produce babies and that most of those babies are male. Men almost never have sex with women because the women are kept at the baby factories," the Lieutenant explained.

"That sounds just ghastly," Brandon commented. The Sergeant shook his head in agreement.

"Well, now you know why we're so medically cautious. The six of us are expendable. No one will care if we die of your diseases. When we know that you can't spread disease, we will use your sperm to propagate several new genetic breeds. We hope that these new ones will produce plenty of female offspring. Don't worry about collection procedures. Our medic is in charge of manipulating your genitals to obtain your sperm. He's good at that, I'm told. I'm sure we'll all lend a hand." The group burst into laughter. This was the first time that the Lieutenant let his guard down. Brandon stood there almost in disbelief. Miguelito, on the other hand, just laughed with them.

"I never needed a hand before, I'm sure I won't need one now," he said.

"But we saw what you two did in the fountain. We want your body, kid, We want so much to help you. We all know such interesting techniques. We're anxious to share them with both of you," the medic said. The Troopers ooohed collectively and leered. They exuded testosterone from every pore, openly and brazenly lusting after Miguelito's body. Miguelito blushed. He was embarrassed. Brandon pulled the boy's head onto his chest and patted him. He guessed that this was the first time other men spoke so openly about wanting to have sex with him. Miguelito's education was just beginning. The Lieutenant brought them back to reality.

"We have another decision to make today," the Lieutenant said. The troopers groaned and quieted down. The sun was high and hot. They wanted to relax and rest through the middle of the day.

"One of many more, I presume" Brandon said.

"Since we are isolated out here on the edge of the rainforest, Command and Control will let us determine our dress code." The Troopers interrupted him with a cheer. He paused only for a second and asked, "naked, fatigues, or dress uniforms?" The answer came in six voices – naked. He whipped his T-shirt off and joined them men in their cheer. The men took their skivvies and T-shirts off and pranced around on the grass bare-ass naked. Brandon and Miguelito took their time to give each Trooper a good look. When things got quiet and the Troopers rested in the hot afternoon, Brandon turned to Miguelito.

"Well, Miguelito, my son, my companion, it looks like we're in for an interesting life here in the future."

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