Statue Tf - Tumblr Posts
Super hot story! Great for a first attempt at inanimate TF.
Not In The Exhibit Brochure
It was a hot summer day and the city was filled with people coming to be a part of one of the biggest fantasy conventions in the country. Video games, board games, tabletop RPGs, LARP, movies, TV shows, theater shows, even musicals. If one fancied themselves a fan of a franchise that existed in any of these forms, they could be found spending a sunny August weekend in the convention center.
Mark meandered between countless people in the Second Pavilion, getting tired having spent the last five hours walking around the convention area, being asked for pictures and catching up with his friends. This year he came wearing a full cosplay of one of the characters from his favorite first person shooter. He put on a tactical vest, helmet with a full headset, a tactical belt with a bunch of accessories and camo pants. In his hands he was bearing a perfect replica of the most famous gun from the game.
He spent a long time perfecting the costume, both by searching for just the right gear and by spending hours in the gym. Now his broad and thick shoulders, football-sized biceps and veiny forearms were visible for all attendees, which garnered Mark a lot of attention, which he enjoyed.
It was exhausting, however. The temperature inside the convention center got uncomfortably high at times, so he decided to take a break. He fold the few friends who joined him during the day that he was leaving for a while to take in some relatively fresh air, then pushed his way through the crowds until he got to the exit.
Thanks to the fact that the center was basically in the middle of the city he didn't have to go far to get to a park and relax, then find a place to eat and just take a walk through the city.
Mark was aware that many businesses and institutions had various perks for the convention ticket holders, to keep the attendees in the city for longer and spread the economic effects of the convention. He was reminded of this fact just as he was walking by the giant building of the art museum. His curiosity was piqued and he checked if he would get a discount of a ticket. It turned out he could walk in for free, the only requirement was to show his pass at the entrance.
What Mark saw after getting through a quick but awkward security check truly amazed him. He slowly walked from one part of the building to the next, taking his time to watch every piece, all displayed in a well air-conditioned space, which was a nice bonus. The museum had a bunch of different special exhibits currently open to the public and they were all pretty stunning, each in its own way.
Finally, Mark made his way to a part of the museum furthest away from the entrance where he saw a recent collection of sculptures from a local artist. Each statue was an extremely realistic depiction of a person, and they were supposed to collectively represent modern society. There were athletes mid-run, businessmen in the middle of walking in between offices, chefs tasting their newest creations, it was all incredible to watch, every sculpture most likely taking weeks or months to complete. Mark stood in the middle of the room as he looked around and every time he managed to find a new detail in one of the statues. While his eyes were jumping from one piece to another, inspecting every curve and small detail, he was unaware of just how much time has passed since he entered this space.
And then he tried to move.
Mark heard his phone buzz loudly in his pocket. It was probably one of his friends wanting to check up on him. He tried to move his hand to take the phone and answer the call, but it wouldn't move. Neither would his head. Or any part of his body. He was immediately alarmed. Mark tried as hard as he could to get any element within his human form to move even an inch, but it didn't work. His whole body was suddenly completely stationary and he could not control its movements, because he couldn't cause any movements. He started to panic and hoped someone would notice that he wasn't well. There were a lot of people at the museum so it would be just a matter of time before one of them came to this room and noticed a guy in a military cosplay was standing weirdly still.
Except this did not happen. Visitors just passed by him with no interest in the person standing frozen in the middle of the room. As Mark looked with his unmovable eyes at the tourists wandering around the space right in front of him he felt like he was losing the track of time. Was it a minute ago that he realized he couldn't move? No it mus have been almost an hour by then. Nah, it couldn't be.
Then Mark realized something horrifying. Not only was no one coming up to help him, they began to stop in front of him and just look at him, as if he was just another...
Did he turn into a fucking statue?! That terrifying thought seeped deep into his mind wreaking havoc along the way. How could this have happened? Magic? But magic wasn't real! That was impossible, this was a dream, for sure! He tried to move his body even a little bit, but again he failed every time. He desperately tried to force his hand to move so that he could pinch himself and wake up from this terrifying nightmare. But no part of his arm changed position, not even an inch.
A larger group of tourists, mostly retirees, led by a young woman slowly moved through the exhibition space and passed by Mark, who continued to struggle and try to move.
"Huh, the guide didn't say anything about this one. Did that lovely lady talk about this soldier, Harold?" An elderly couple stopped in front of Mark and they stood there and admired him for a moment.
"No, Mary, I'm pretty sure I'd remember" The man, Harold, took a step closer towards the statue.
"Harold!" The woman shouted at him. "You can't walk up too close to the sculptures dear."
"Oh, calm down" Harold responded, slightly annoyed at his wife's comment. "I'm in an art museum so don't tell me to not look at the art." The older man stood just a few steps away from Mark. "There's no plaque or rope or anything, this is a free country, Mary!" He was a few inches shorter than Mark, so he couldn't clearly see everything but it seemed he was just looking at Mark's gear.
"Look.The artist - that Gary what's-his-name - knew what he was doing with this one. I recognize all that gear this man is wearing. Nice work." Harold's tone of voice suggested he was weirdly pleased with the statue that used to be Mark. "This is what a real man's supposed to look like. Not some sissy sitting behind the desk all day."
"Of course Harold, of course" The woman walked up to her husband and put her arm around him, then started gently pushing him towards the other statues.
Mark's brain struggled to comprehend what he had just witnessed. He had really turned into a statue! People thought he was a part of the exhibit! How could this have happened? He couldn't come up with any even remotely plausible explanation for what he was experiencing. He then thought that his only hope would be his friends - they knew he was downtown, maybe some would guess that he used the opportunity to get into the art museum for free, which would lead them to the place where Mark was currently stranded.
The group of retirees came back, walked next to Mark and was about to leave the room when the tour guide looked at him and murmured to herself.
"This statue was not a part of the exhibit. How did it get here?" She grabbed her phone and quickly led her group towards the rest of the museum.
Mark again realized he couldn't tell how much time had passed since any of the recent events. It was as if his internal clock had stopped working, ran out of batteries. This whole experience was so confusing that he had issues fully registering everything. He tried counting in his head, but got lost after 20, maybe? The only thing he was sure of, for now, was that the day had not yet ended, but he could not tell what part of the day it was, as the whole museum was constantly lit with this slightly weird diffused lighting.
Three people suddenly came into view and stood some distance away from Mark, clearly looking at him. He couldn't hear the conversation they were having because of the noise from surrounding visitors, but he could clearly see that they were all agitated, talking over each other and aggressively pointing at themselves and Mark. As he looked closer he realized they were all museum employees, meaning they were probably debating what to do with a statue which has suddenly appeared within the premises of the musem they worked for, a rather uncommon occurrence.
Not long after they left Mark's view and he was once again stuck in this feeling ot timelessness. Tourists stopped in front of him every now and then, looked at him for a moment and moved on, while he stood still, holding the gun in his hands as if ready to fight, and yet incapable of it because of some indescribable force.
The employees from before came back, one of them holding in their hands a metal stand of come kind. It had something written on it at the top, but Mark couldn't see what it was. What he could see was the employee putting the stand in front of him and them all looking at it.
"That will have to do for now" One of them said. This time they were standing closer and Mark was able to hear what they were saying.
"Yeah, I won't be able to make a proper one until tomorrow."
"Okay, but it has to be there by Monday afternoon, otherwise we're fucked. Jesus Christ, still'can't believe this happened."
"No time for moaning, Jacob. We have work to do." Another one replied. They all nodded their heads, took one last look at the stand and quickly left the scene.
Mark thought about what he had just witnessed, and it took him a moment to understand - this was a stand with information about the statue, which meant him. It was the same kind as dozens more throughout the museum that visitors could look at for further information that was meant to enrich their experiences. This was meant to hide the fact that he was not here just mere hours, or minutes, or days, or-- he was certainly not here when the exhibition was opened. That fact was probably what had made them so angry and confused before - from their perspective a random statue of a soldier randomly appeared in the museum.
His mind immediately asked one question - I wonder what did they write on there? What was his title, his author, his artistic description or statement? Wait, his author? That was a strange line of thought, Mark realized.
I am Uncontrolled Power.
Wait, what was that? Who said that? Where was that deep voice coming from?
I was created by Greg Duchaime Arreman.
Was there someone standing behind him?
I am meant to represent unchecked aggression and power of the Military Industrial Complex.
Wait a second, what this voice inside his head?
I am the physical manifestation of toxic masculinity and bravado.
Holy fuck, this was a voice inside his head. Was this... what they had written about him on this stand?
Fuck yeah, I'm an alpha who follows orders and crushes any sign of disloyalty.
The voice was talking to Mark. Shit, the voice was talking to him! What the fuck?
You scum, get ready to experience the primal, animalistic force of a toxic man! I'm gonna crush you!
Mark wanted to sigh loudly, but of course he couldn't. Great, the museum employees with their great art wisdom made him a stereotypical aggressive soldier. Obedient muscle. The armored tool of American imperialism. And this soldier character seemed to have appeared inside his head.
I am here to blindly follow orders, enforce them and show everyone what masculinity really means!
If Mark could have rolled his eyes, he would. He was stuck, like an NPC frozen mid-frame, standing in the middle of an art museum, possibly forever. And from now on he would represent toxic masculinity, aggression and military prowess.
Whoever stands in my way will be violently crushed with the power of the American Military and my primal force! Toxic and proud, that's who I am!
Not In The Exhibit Brochure
It was a hot summer day and the city was filled with people coming to be a part of one of the biggest fantasy conventions in the country. Video games, board games, tabletop RPGs, LARP, movies, TV shows, theater shows, even musicals. If one fancied themselves a fan of a franchise that existed in any of these forms, they could be found spending a sunny August weekend in the convention center.
Mark meandered between countless people in the Second Pavilion, getting tired having spent the last five hours walking around the convention area, being asked for pictures and catching up with his friends. This year he came wearing a full cosplay of one of the characters from his favorite first person shooter. He put on a tactical vest, helmet with a full headset, a tactical belt with a bunch of accessories and camo pants. In his hands he was bearing a perfect replica of the most famous gun from the game.
He spent a long time perfecting the costume, both by searching for just the right gear and by spending hours in the gym. Now his broad and thick shoulders, football-sized biceps and veiny forearms were visible for all attendees, which garnered Mark a lot of attention, which he enjoyed.
It was exhausting, however. The temperature inside the convention center got uncomfortably high at times, so he decided to take a break. He fold the few friends who joined him during the day that he was leaving for a while to take in some relatively fresh air, then pushed his way through the crowds until he got to the exit.
Thanks to the fact that the center was basically in the middle of the city he didn't have to go far to get to a park and relax, then find a place to eat and just take a walk through the city.
Mark was aware that many businesses and institutions had various perks for the convention ticket holders, to keep the attendees in the city for longer and spread the economic effects of the convention. He was reminded of this fact just as he was walking by the giant building of the art museum. His curiosity was piqued and he checked if he would get a discount of a ticket. It turned out he could walk in for free, the only requirement was to show his pass at the entrance.
What Mark saw after getting through a quick but awkward security check truly amazed him. He slowly walked from one part of the building to the next, taking his time to watch every piece, all displayed in a well air-conditioned space, which was a nice bonus. The museum had a bunch of different special exhibits currently open to the public and they were all pretty stunning, each in its own way.
Finally, Mark made his way to a part of the museum furthest away from the entrance where he saw a recent collection of sculptures from a local artist. Each statue was an extremely realistic depiction of a person, and they were supposed to collectively represent modern society. There were athletes mid-run, businessmen in the middle of walking in between offices, chefs tasting their newest creations, it was all incredible to watch, every sculpture most likely taking weeks or months to complete. Mark stood in the middle of the room as he looked around and every time he managed to find a new detail in one of the statues. While his eyes were jumping from one piece to another, inspecting every curve and small detail, he was unaware of just how much time has passed since he entered this space.
And then he tried to move.
Mark heard his phone buzz loudly in his pocket. It was probably one of his friends wanting to check up on him. He tried to move his hand to take the phone and answer the call, but it wouldn't move. Neither would his head. Or any part of his body. He was immediately alarmed. Mark tried as hard as he could to get any element within his human form to move even an inch, but it didn't work. His whole body was suddenly completely stationary and he could not control its movements, because he couldn't cause any movements. He started to panic and hoped someone would notice that he wasn't well. There were a lot of people at the museum so it would be just a matter of time before one of them came to this room and noticed a guy in a military cosplay was standing weirdly still.
Except this did not happen. Visitors just passed by him with no interest in the person standing frozen in the middle of the room. As Mark looked with his unmovable eyes at the tourists wandering around the space right in front of him he felt like he was losing the track of time. Was it a minute ago that he realized he couldn't move? No it mus have been almost an hour by then. Nah, it couldn't be.
Then Mark realized something horrifying. Not only was no one coming up to help him, they began to stop in front of him and just look at him, as if he was just another...
Did he turn into a fucking statue?! That terrifying thought seeped deep into his mind wreaking havoc along the way. How could this have happened? Magic? But magic wasn't real! That was impossible, this was a dream, for sure! He tried to move his body even a little bit, but again he failed every time. He desperately tried to force his hand to move so that he could pinch himself and wake up from this terrifying nightmare. But no part of his arm changed position, not even an inch.
A larger group of tourists, mostly retirees, led by a young woman slowly moved through the exhibition space and passed by Mark, who continued to struggle and try to move.
"Huh, the guide didn't say anything about this one. Did that lovely lady talk about this soldier, Harold?" An elderly couple stopped in front of Mark and they stood there and admired him for a moment.
"No, Mary, I'm pretty sure I'd remember" The man, Harold, took a step closer towards the statue.
"Harold!" The woman shouted at him. "You can't walk up too close to the sculptures dear."
"Oh, calm down" Harold responded, slightly annoyed at his wife's comment. "I'm in an art museum so don't tell me to not look at the art." The older man stood just a few steps away from Mark. "There's no plaque or rope or anything, this is a free country, Mary!" He was a few inches shorter than Mark, so he couldn't clearly see everything but it seemed he was just looking at Mark's gear.
"Look. The artist — that Gary what's-his-name — knew what he was doing with this one. I recognize all that gear this man is wearing. Nice work." Harold's tone of voice suggested he was weirdly pleased with the statue that used to be Mark. "This is what a real man's supposed to look like. Not some sissy sitting behind the desk all day."
"Of course Harold, of course" The woman walked up to her husband and put her arm around him, then started gently pushing him towards the other statues.
Mark's brain struggled to comprehend what he had just witnessed. He had really turned into a statue! People thought he was a part of the exhibit! How could this have happened? He couldn't come up with any even remotely plausible explanation for what he was experiencing. He then thought that his only hope would be his friends - they knew he was downtown, maybe some would guess that he used the opportunity to get into the art museum for free, which would lead them to the place where Mark was currently stranded.
The group of retirees came back, walked next to Mark and was about to leave the room when the tour guide looked at him and murmured to herself.
"This statue was not a part of the exhibit. How did it get here?" She grabbed her phone and quickly led her group towards the rest of the museum.
Mark again realized he couldn't tell how much time had passed since any of the recent events. It was as if his internal clock had stopped working, ran out of batteries. This whole experience was so confusing that he had issues fully registering everything. He tried counting in his head, but got lost after 20, maybe? The only thing he was sure of, for now, was that the day had not yet ended, but he could not tell what part of the day it was, as the whole museum was constantly lit with this slightly weird diffused lighting.
Three people suddenly came into view and stood some distance away from Mark, clearly looking at him. He couldn't hear the conversation they were having because of the noise from surrounding visitors, but he could clearly see that they were all agitated, talking over each other and aggressively pointing at themselves and Mark. As he looked closer he realized they were all museum employees, meaning they were probably debating what to do with a statue which has suddenly appeared within the premises of the musem they worked for, a rather uncommon occurrence.
Not long after they left Mark's view and he was once again stuck in this feeling ot timelessness. Tourists stopped in front of him every now and then, looked at him for a moment and moved on, while he stood still, holding the gun in his hands as if ready to fight, and yet incapable of it because of some indescribable force.
The employees from before came back, one of them holding in their hands a metal stand of come kind. It had something written on it at the top, but Mark couldn't see what it was. What he could see was the employee putting the stand in front of him and them all looking at it.
"That will have to do for now" One of them said. This time they were standing closer and Mark was able to hear what they were saying.
"Yeah, I won't be able to make a proper one until tomorrow."
"Okay, but it has to be there by Monday afternoon, otherwise we're fucked. Jesus Christ, still'can't believe this happened."
"No time for moaning, Jacob. We have work to do." Another one replied. They all nodded their heads, took one last look at the stand and quickly left the scene.
Mark thought about what he had just witnessed, and it took him a moment to understand - this was a stand with information about the statue, which meant him. It was the same kind as dozens more throughout the museum that visitors could look at for further information that was meant to enrich their experiences. This was meant to hide the fact that he was not here just mere hours, or minutes, or days, or-- he was certainly not here when the exhibition was opened. That fact was probably what had made them so angry and confused before - from their perspective a random statue of a soldier randomly appeared in the museum.
His mind immediately asked one question - I wonder what did they write on there? What was his title, his author, his artistic description or statement? Wait, his author? That was a strange line of thought, Mark realized.
I am Uncontrolled Power.
Wait, what was that? Who said that? Where was that deep voice coming from?
I was created by Greg Duchaime Arreman.
Was there someone standing behind him?
I am meant to represent unchecked aggression and power of the Military Industrial Complex.
Wait a second, what this voice inside his head?
I am the physical manifestation of toxic masculinity and bravado.
Holy fuck, this was a voice inside his head. Was this... what they had written about him on this stand?
Fuck yeah, I'm an alpha who follows orders and crushes any sign of disloyalty.
The voice was talking to Mark. Shit, the voice was talking to him! What the fuck?
You scum, get ready to experience the primal, animalistic force of a toxic man! I'm gonna crush you!
Mark wanted to sigh loudly, but of course he couldn't. Great, the museum employees with their great art wisdom made him a stereotypical aggressive soldier. Obedient muscle. The armored tool of American imperialism. And this soldier character seemed to have appeared inside his head.
I am here to blindly follow orders, enforce them and show everyone what masculinity really means!
If Mark could have rolled his eyes, he would. He was stuck, like an NPC frozen mid-frame, standing in the middle of an art museum, possibly forever. And from now on he would represent toxic masculinity, aggression and military prowess.
Whoever stands in my way will be violently crushed with the power of the American Military and my primal force! Toxic and proud, that's who I am!
Hold your head still, I’m about to make a perfect seat out of your dopey face. Haha. That surprised expression is picturesque, I think I’ll keep it ‘framed’ just like that once you’re a fully frozen statue. That way, every time I sit on you, pushing your nose between my crack, I can remember the precise moment where you became a basic inanimate piece of furniture. A centrepiece of the room. Your final human act before my huge cheeks became your entire existence and purpose. Eyes stuck staring at my tight arse. Cock forever frozen at the exact moment of climax.
Enough chatter though.
Aaaa, and down I go. Lush…super comfy. Yes, go ahead and squirm, it makes the experience so much more fun. For me at least. Can you feel your body stiffen? Forever posed in that humiliating position. Knees fusing together, the colour draining from your skin. Let it happen, let it consume you from head to toe. Sniff my butt and become a stupid fucking statue.
Fuck, your shiny cold exterior feels so good against my hole.
Huh…guess that’s it then. Wow, you were so quick to surrender your free will. Giving up everything to me. Hell, you barely even struggled…seat. A seat for my sweaty ass. Hope you like rimming, idiot.
Maybe a story about muscle modifications morphs? Like a guy says he’d like a body like a Greek statue and ends up like the enormous ass Perseus he morphed?
“Babe, this is stupid,” Beau yawned as he followed his boyfriend, Darren, around the museum. Beau had told his boyfriend that he was fine with going to the museum that had a special exhibit on Greek statues, but he’d only been saying that to be nice. Truth be told, the stud had absolutely no interest in art or going to boring museums. However, Darren had complained earlier how the two of them never do much together besides sex.
Darren frowned. “Well, let’s look at this one,” he said, pointing to a statue of a naked man.
Beau rolled his eyes and crossed his buff arms over his muscled chest which stretched his t-shirt to the limit. “If you wanted to check out some muscles, then I could’ve given you an up-close-and-personal view at home,” he muttered under his breath.
Darren didn’t hear and was already on his way to look at the other marble statue.
Beau sighed heavily and leaned against an empty podium that had a “Coming Soon” plaque on it. As soon as he rested against it, he felt an odd shock ripple through him, making him gasp.
“What the fuck?” he grunted, taking a step away from the vacant space. He looked around for some indication that someone else had seen, only to realize that he was by himself in the wing of the museum.
He shrugged and started to make his way towards where his boyfriend had walked off, feeling an odd tightening sensation across his body— RIIIPPPP!
Beau froze in his spot and looked down at his body, his eyes going wide as he witnessed his muscles packing on meat. The ripping sound had been from his shirt unable to contain his growing mass from his arms bulking up and his pecs plumping out in front of him. He took a nervous step, hearing yet another loud ripping noise as his shorts tore away from his expanding form.
“Fuck!” he gasped as his thighs started to push closer to one another and he felt an immense weight on his back side. He looked over his shoulder and nearly passed out as his bubblebutt started to get bigger and bigger, his cheeks inflating outwards and puffing out at the sides to inflate to the size of basketballs.
When the growth was finished, Beau looked over his larger form in shock. A part of him was ecstatic over his larger muscles, but he was also embarrassed over his immense ass that jutted out from his body at a severe angle. He blushed when he realized that he was naked and stuck in a warped body that was more akin to one of the Greek statues than his normal self.
He saw the back of his boyfriend as he studied a nearby painting, and opened his mouth to yell for help.
Beau strained and tried to yell out for Darren, but no noise came out of him. He cleared his throat and kept trying over and over, but all that came out from him was silence. Beau frantically rubbed at his neck, but something caught his eye.
The bottom-heavy hunk cocked his eyebrow as he looked at his hands, noticing that they were paler than normal.
His heart sped up in his larger chest as the stud watched the paleness grow in intensity until his hands looked as white as the marble on the statues in the museum. He waved his buff arms around wildly, as if he could shake off the marble color that was taking over, but all it did was continue to spread, consuming all of his buffed up body.
Then Beau felt his large legs start to propel him forward without any control on his end. He gritted his teeth as he fought with all of his might to stop walking towards the empty podium, wincing as he felt his much larger asscheeks shifting and jiggling with every step he took. Beau positioned himself up onto the podium and raised one of his buff arms, props appearing out of thin air in his grasp and on his buff body. He even felt himself push his large bubblebutt out to accentuate its roundness.
A cool breeze blew over Beau’s warped, pale body and he found himself frozen in a pose, stuck as one of those Greek statues in the museum. He tried with all of his strength to scream or to move a muscle, but he was helpless— stuck silent and motionless.
He saw Darren walk back into the wing, looking around for him. “Beau?” he called out, looking confused as to where his boyfriend went.
Beau screamed internally as he witnessed his boyfriend looking around for him before leaving to another part of the museum to continue his search. All the while, the bottom-heavy statue was stuck in his pose, forced to hear the many comments from the other museum goers about how large his muscles were and how hot his massive ass was.
He was a work of art.
“…thank you for the pointers, Mr. Rowe,” the smaller guy, Chuck, said with a big smile on his face.
Brad grinned back and nodded, slapping a beefy hand onto the tiny’s man’s shoulder, completely engulfing it. “Of course,” he said. “I’m always happy to help guys pack on muscle. We can get you to this size soon.” For emphasis, the bodybuilder brought both of his arms in front of his chiseled chest and flexed, his pecs inflating with power.
Brad had been approached by Chuck in the gym who wanted to ask for some workout tips, stating that he was a major source of fitness inspiration for the guy. Brad was honored and rather enjoyed it when he could interact with his fans, so he was all too happy to give the little guy a pointer or two on how to pack on muscle. Plus, he could tell by the longing stare in Chuck’s eyes that the smaller guy found him attractive, hence he figured he could be nice and flex for him.
But Brad’s generous attitude was immediately halted when he felt a cool gust of air brush over him, discovering that he could’t move out of his flexed position. He strained his massive muscles and tried with all of his might to bring his arms down and stop puffing out his pecs, but all to no avail.
Brad started to panic when he couldn’t even open up his mouth or make a noise— he was completely frozen in place like a living statue.
“There we go,” Chuck cheered as he clapped his hands together excitedly. “I knew that there’d be no way you could resist striking a pose, and I knew that’d be the perfect position to keep you in.”
Brad couldn’t even move his eyes and he screamed internally, feeling so utterly weak and powerless as he was stuck like a stone. He wasn’t even sure if his heart was picking up speed in his panic nor could he even feel himself breathe. All he was capable of was looking out forwards while maintaining his pose.
Chuck walked circles around the helpless muscle man. “I wasn’t lying when I said that you were a source of motivation though,” he said as he looked over the wide expanse of the bodybuilder’s form. “But not so much for me, since I’m not interested in bulking up. But my clients have raved about how they would love an up close and personal inspection so that they could feel motivated to work out.”
Brad could hear what sounded like numerous footsteps approaching down the hallway, making him start to panic even further. Had he been capable, he would’ve been begging for help or trying to make a bet in order to get released. He couldn’t be stuck performing a pseudo most muscular pose for the rest of his life!
“I’m not heartless though,” Chuck mocked. “In fact, I came up with a way both parties can enjoy themselves.” He gently caressed the crazy width of Brad’s broad back.
The simple touch of another man’s hand on his frozen skin lit up fires of lust inside of Brad. Had he been able to, Brad would’ve moaned out loud at the touch and his cock would’ve been rock hard. He couldn’t see it, but he could feel a pressure growing deep inside of him as if he were getting close to orgasm.
“Nice right?” Chuck laughed. “Every touch of a man will only cause you get more and more turned on; too bad statues can’t cum. Maybe I’ll check back on you in a year or two… if I remember.”
Chuck smirked back at the petrified Brad as he exited the room. Brad wasn’t alone for long though, as three bodybuilders walked inside, each one carrying their gym bags with them. Once they were inside the small room, each one gasped as they took in the sight before them.
“Holy shit!” the one in red exclaimed, rushing forward to examine Brad. “The gym actually installed a Brad Rowe statue!”
Brad bristled inside at being called a statue and he tried to muster any strength he still had to plead with the other men to help him. It was useless though as he was completely immobile and voiceless.
“It’s so lifelike,” the one in blue mused.
The one in yellow stepped forward and placed an admiring hand on Brad’s plump pec. Again, simply at the feel of another man’s warm, beefy hand on his muscle sent fireworks of pleasure throughout Brad. His mind immediately clouded over and instead of internally begging for help, he begged for the other men to feel up his stone muscles. Their hands were like lightening, sending darts of pleasure all throughout his core.
“Check out his booty,” the one in red laughed, going so far as to cup each muscular cheek in his large hands.
Had he been able to, Brad would’ve black out from the sheer force of cumming. The orgasm that he couldn’t reach was building up inside of him, creating such an impossible pressure that was only growing larger and larger as the three other bodybuilders ran admiring and disbelieving hands over his pecs, his biceps, his thighs. One even grazed his cock and Brad wished more than anything that he could cum.
He felt so turned on by the beefy hands on his vast form and he craved more and more. Had his cock been able to move, it would’ve been at full mast, shooting off load after load as the men felt up his petrified muscles.
The bodybuilder in blue ran over to the door and opened it, poking his head out. “Hey!” he shouted down the hall. “You guys have to come and see this!”
Brad could barely concentrate with the pleasured pressure that kept growing inside of him, making him feel like he was about to explode into a mess of hormones and cum. But the sounds of other muscle men approaching created such a sense of excitement. That was quickly fogged over when one of the men flicked his hard nipple, nearly making him black out as his horniness exploded to unforeseen proportions.
Not In The Exhibit Brochure
It was a hot summer day and the city was filled with people coming to be a part of one of the biggest fantasy conventions in the country. Video games, board games, tabletop RPGs, LARP, movies, TV shows, theater shows, even musicals. If one fancied themselves a fan of a franchise that existed in any of these forms, they could be found spending a sunny August weekend in the convention center.
Mark meandered between countless people in the Second Pavilion, getting tired having spent the last five hours walking around the convention area, being asked for pictures and catching up with his friends. This year he came wearing a full cosplay of one of the characters from his favorite first person shooter. He put on a tactical vest, helmet with a full headset, a tactical belt with a bunch of accessories and camo pants. In his hands he was bearing a perfect replica of the most famous gun from the game.
He spent a long time perfecting the costume, both by searching for just the right gear and by spending hours in the gym. Now his broad and thick shoulders, football-sized biceps and veiny forearms were visible for all attendees, which garnered Mark a lot of attention, which he enjoyed.
It was exhausting, however. The temperature inside the convention center got uncomfortably high at times, so he decided to take a break. He fold the few friends who joined him during the day that he was leaving for a while to take in some relatively fresh air, then pushed his way through the crowds until he got to the exit.
Thanks to the fact that the center was basically in the middle of the city he didn't have to go far to get to a park and relax, then find a place to eat and just take a walk through the city.
Mark was aware that many businesses and institutions had various perks for the convention ticket holders, to keep the attendees in the city for longer and spread the economic effects of the convention. He was reminded of this fact just as he was walking by the giant building of the art museum. His curiosity was piqued and he checked if he would get a discount of a ticket. It turned out he could walk in for free, the only requirement was to show his pass at the entrance.
What Mark saw after getting through a quick but awkward security check truly amazed him. He slowly walked from one part of the building to the next, taking his time to watch every piece, all displayed in a well air-conditioned space, which was a nice bonus. The museum had a bunch of different special exhibits currently open to the public and they were all pretty stunning, each in its own way.
Finally, Mark made his way to a part of the museum furthest away from the entrance where he saw a recent collection of sculptures from a local artist. Each statue was an extremely realistic depiction of a person, and they were supposed to collectively represent modern society. There were athletes mid-run, businessmen in the middle of walking in between offices, chefs tasting their newest creations, it was all incredible to watch, every sculpture most likely taking weeks or months to complete. Mark stood in the middle of the room as he looked around and every time he managed to find a new detail in one of the statues. While his eyes were jumping from one piece to another, inspecting every curve and small detail, he was unaware of just how much time has passed since he entered this space.
And then he tried to move.
Mark heard his phone buzz loudly in his pocket. It was probably one of his friends wanting to check up on him. He tried to move his hand to take the phone and answer the call, but it wouldn't move. Neither would his head. Or any part of his body. He was immediately alarmed. Mark tried as hard as he could to get any element within his human form to move even an inch, but it didn't work. His whole body was suddenly completely stationary and he could not control its movements, because he couldn't cause any movements. He started to panic and hoped someone would notice that he wasn't well. There were a lot of people at the museum so it would be just a matter of time before one of them came to this room and noticed a guy in a military cosplay was standing weirdly still.
Except this did not happen. Visitors just passed by him with no interest in the person standing frozen in the middle of the room. As Mark looked with his unmovable eyes at the tourists wandering around the space right in front of him he felt like he was losing the track of time. Was it a minute ago that he realized he couldn't move? No it mus have been almost an hour by then. Nah, it couldn't be.
Then Mark realized something horrifying. Not only was no one coming up to help him, they began to stop in front of him and just look at him, as if he was just another...
Did he turn into a fucking statue?! That terrifying thought seeped deep into his mind wreaking havoc along the way. How could this have happened? Magic? But magic wasn't real! That was impossible, this was a dream, for sure! He tried to move his body even a little bit, but again he failed every time. He desperately tried to force his hand to move so that he could pinch himself and wake up from this terrifying nightmare. But no part of his arm changed position, not even an inch.
A larger group of tourists, mostly retirees, led by a young woman slowly moved through the exhibition space and passed by Mark, who continued to struggle and try to move.
"Huh, the guide didn't say anything about this one. Did that lovely lady talk about this soldier, Harold?" An elderly couple stopped in front of Mark and they stood there and admired him for a moment.
"No, Mary, I'm pretty sure I'd remember" The man, Harold, took a step closer towards the statue.
"Harold!" The woman shouted at him. "You can't walk up too close to the sculptures dear."
"Oh, calm down" Harold responded, slightly annoyed at his wife's comment. "I'm in an art museum so don't tell me to not look at the art." The older man stood just a few steps away from Mark. "There's no plaque or rope or anything, this is a free country, Mary!" He was a few inches shorter than Mark, so he couldn't clearly see everything but it seemed he was just looking at Mark's gear.
"Look. The artist — that Gary what's-his-name — knew what he was doing with this one. I recognize all that gear this man is wearing. Nice work." Harold's tone of voice suggested he was weirdly pleased with the statue that used to be Mark. "This is what a real man's supposed to look like. Not some sissy sitting behind the desk all day."
"Of course Harold, of course" The woman walked up to her husband and put her arm around him, then started gently pushing him towards the other statues.
Mark's brain struggled to comprehend what he had just witnessed. He had really turned into a statue! People thought he was a part of the exhibit! How could this have happened? He couldn't come up with any even remotely plausible explanation for what he was experiencing. He then thought that his only hope would be his friends - they knew he was downtown, maybe some would guess that he used the opportunity to get into the art museum for free, which would lead them to the place where Mark was currently stranded.
The group of retirees came back, walked next to Mark and was about to leave the room when the tour guide looked at him and murmured to herself.
"This statue was not a part of the exhibit. How did it get here?" She grabbed her phone and quickly led her group towards the rest of the museum.
Mark again realized he couldn't tell how much time had passed since any of the recent events. It was as if his internal clock had stopped working, ran out of batteries. This whole experience was so confusing that he had issues fully registering everything. He tried counting in his head, but got lost after 20, maybe? The only thing he was sure of, for now, was that the day had not yet ended, but he could not tell what part of the day it was, as the whole museum was constantly lit with this slightly weird diffused lighting.
Three people suddenly came into view and stood some distance away from Mark, clearly looking at him. He couldn't hear the conversation they were having because of the noise from surrounding visitors, but he could clearly see that they were all agitated, talking over each other and aggressively pointing at themselves and Mark. As he looked closer he realized they were all museum employees, meaning they were probably debating what to do with a statue which has suddenly appeared within the premises of the musem they worked for, a rather uncommon occurrence.
Not long after they left Mark's view and he was once again stuck in this feeling ot timelessness. Tourists stopped in front of him every now and then, looked at him for a moment and moved on, while he stood still, holding the gun in his hands as if ready to fight, and yet incapable of it because of some indescribable force.
The employees from before came back, one of them holding in their hands a metal stand of come kind. It had something written on it at the top, but Mark couldn't see what it was. What he could see was the employee putting the stand in front of him and them all looking at it.
"That will have to do for now" One of them said. This time they were standing closer and Mark was able to hear what they were saying.
"Yeah, I won't be able to make a proper one until tomorrow."
"Okay, but it has to be there by Monday afternoon, otherwise we're fucked. Jesus Christ, still'can't believe this happened."
"No time for moaning, Jacob. We have work to do." Another one replied. They all nodded their heads, took one last look at the stand and quickly left the scene.
Mark thought about what he had just witnessed, and it took him a moment to understand - this was a stand with information about the statue, which meant him. It was the same kind as dozens more throughout the museum that visitors could look at for further information that was meant to enrich their experiences. This was meant to hide the fact that he was not here just mere hours, or minutes, or days, or-- he was certainly not here when the exhibition was opened. That fact was probably what had made them so angry and confused before - from their perspective a random statue of a soldier randomly appeared in the museum.
His mind immediately asked one question - I wonder what did they write on there? What was his title, his author, his artistic description or statement? Wait, his author? That was a strange line of thought, Mark realized.
I am Uncontrolled Power.
Wait, what was that? Who said that? Where was that deep voice coming from?
I was created by Greg Duchaime Arreman.
Was there someone standing behind him?
I am meant to represent unchecked aggression and power of the Military Industrial Complex.
Wait a second, what this voice inside his head?
I am the physical manifestation of toxic masculinity and bravado.
Holy fuck, this was a voice inside his head. Was this... what they had written about him on this stand?
Fuck yeah, I'm an alpha who follows orders and crushes any sign of disloyalty.
The voice was talking to Mark. Shit, the voice was talking to him! What the fuck?
You scum, get ready to experience the primal, animalistic force of a toxic man! I'm gonna crush you!
Mark wanted to sigh loudly, but of course he couldn't. Great, the museum employees with their great art wisdom made him a stereotypical aggressive soldier. Obedient muscle. The armored tool of American imperialism. And this soldier character seemed to have appeared inside his head.
I am here to blindly follow orders, enforce them and show everyone what masculinity really means!
If Mark could have rolled his eyes, he would. He was stuck, like an NPC frozen mid-frame, standing in the middle of an art museum, possibly forever. And from now on he would represent toxic masculinity, aggression and military prowess.
Whoever stands in my way will be violently crushed with the power of the American Military and my primal force! Toxic and proud, that's who I am!
You like what you see bro? This guy was on the other team and started acting all salty when we kicked his ass.
What else was I supposed to do but turn him into a mascot for us? I think the gold really suits him bro. After some time as a statue, maybe he’ll come around and want to join us! Or maybe he wants to stay like this permanently…
What do you think bro? Still gonna whine about your loss? We always got room for one more!
Picture by @hercules-goldengod