#statuetf

Thomas The Tool

Thomas was a PHD student competing in a bodybuilding competition for extra money to pay for his program. Recently, he described his body as a tool, answering a question for the judges, causing one to chuckle. Thoma’s eyes darted to the panel to see Connor O’Neil, a legend in the community and one of Thomas’s idols, staring back at him. “Don’t stop on my behave, hot stuff!” After taking a breath, Thomas continued his routine, flexing and posing for the judges and onlookers, while making the other contestants more than jealous. He could not help but feel like he was being watched, and for the first time in his life, he felt like prey who had no idea where the predator was hiding. After the trophies, Thomas made his way to the bar instead of going to the parties with the rest of the bodybuilders. He sat down, ordered a whiskey, and went over the events of the day. His second-place trophy was in the lavish hotel room paid for by his sponsoring gym. While deep in thought, he didn’t notice Connor O’Neil fr sitting right next to him.

Thomas first smelled the scent of a strange cologne that hit his nose, overwhelming him with pudgent musk, pine, vanilla, and cloves. So fixed on the scent, he didn’t notice O’Neil pouring petrifixation powder in his drink. “Ahem,” Thomas snapped back into reality and was immediately star-struck by the god sitting next to him. Although Thomas got a look at him on stage, O’Neil was even more intimidating in person. He stood at least 6 in taller than Thomas, and every muscle looked like it strained his skin to its limit. Thomas almost forgot to speak, instead painting and saying, “Your Connor O’Neil,” with awe in his eyes. The older man chuckled again, sending shivers up Thomas' spine as his instincts told him to run. Connor reacted quickly and tenderly grabbed Thomas's shoulder and raised his glass within seconds, booming, “ Cheers, to your victory, boy!’ Instinctively, Thomas picked up his glass and drank.”

He started to feel lightheaded, but O’ Neil continued, “Let me give you a pointer, here do a double biscep pose.” Thomas almost robotically got up for his bar stool, his feet landing far heavier than expected, as if they were weighed down. As he moved his body into the pose, Thomas felt his muscles stiffen up. “THAT S IT!” yelled Connor, startling Thomas, but he did not move, feeling relaxed in his current position. “Here, smile as big as possible,” Connor whispered into Thomas's ear as he worshiped the younger bodybuilder's biceps with his hands and kisses. Thomas felt deep inside that something was wrong, but he could not quite put his finger on it, his face acting as if by instinct. “See a face like that would have won you first place, now let really make you a tool,” Connor lifted Thomas with one hand and loaded him into the bed of his truck.

That happened over a year ago, and Thomas is still officially known as a missing person. Connor paid for all of the footage from the security cameras to be erased and brought Thomas to his ranch, placing him in the tool shed. Connor now wakes up every morning and walks to the shed in his silk robe, humming a song you might hear at a beach or pool party. As he enters the shed, he says in an almost singsong voice, “Good morning, Tool Slave,” to a much more hairy and bulky Thomas, who does not respond, still holding the pose from that fateful night at the bar. Continue the routine. Connor places the headphones over Thomas' or now Tool Slaves’ head, taking a moment to kiss his trophy lingeringly on the lips. Tool Slave’s eyes were glassy as the familiar mantra was playing in its ear:

“I am my body. My body is a tool. I am a tool. Tools are objects, not people. I am a tool. I am an object, not a person. Tools are objects meant to be used. I am a tool. I am an object meant to be used. Tools are objects with a purpose. I am a tool. I am an object with a purpose. My purpose is to please my Master.”

It long ago had forgotten its name, past, identity, or even the fact that it was his voice on the recording and was now ready to serve its master. Connor had not fully read the label and didn’t realize he only needed a pinch of the powder to get Connor out for the two weeks it would take to brainwash him. Lucky for Connor, the magical powder in Thomas' body and its functions keep him frozen but alive and not frozen to time. So for the past 15 months, Connor has protected this trophy and, through video, spirals, and audio, taught him how to be the perfect tool slave whose purpose is to please his master and take care of his massive hammer. Connor still has 3 months left to wait until his tool slave is unfrozen, but he believes good things come to those who wait.

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Petrifying a Doll

Read part 1 HERE. Read part 2 HERE.

But 2 statues resembling him were not enough for Master Lantz’s ego. He wanted a final, third statue to complete the scene.

It took a while to think about the perfect subject for the final statue. And, once it was decided, it took some time for him to accept Master Lantz's invite. He was a good friend of Master Lantz, but he was a gym rat too. He was TOO much into lifting and workout, so it was not easy to see him outside the gym.

By the time his friend came to the garden, Master Lantz had arranged his 2 statues to be on both sides of an empty black marble pedestal. It didn't take much effort to convince his friend to pose between the statues just for some fun, selfies and some pictures. After all, Master Lantz's friend was very active in social networks, always posting pictures of himself flexing and lifting, and he had thousands of followers.

Soon, it started.

This time Master Lantz was not going to transform his friend... his statues would. Master Lantz could see power flowing from the twin, flexing statues toward his muscular friend, whose movements were getting slower and slower without even realizing.

Master Lantz's statues wanted more to join them, more humans to become statues looking like their Master, exalting his power in a perpetual piece of art.

The muscular guy was quieter now too... his mind losing his will and humanity with each passing second. Then, while posing in a very authoritative pose, he stopped for good. He wasn't even blinking, and he was losing color... turning into white marble. But changes were not going to stop there.

His hair style started to change... shorter at the top, and disappearing at the sides of his head, just like Master Lantz's shaved sides. His incipient goatee growing into a full, very dense full beard made of marble hairs... soon he would be another statue resembling Master Lantz. Resembling his new owner... or Would he?

Master Lantz had an idea just then, and stopped the process. He knew that his friend was bigger than him, taller and more muscular than him, and somehow it seemed wrong to make him smaller and weaker to resemble him. So he thought, what if he did the opposite?

Then his friend... or his new statue, started to grow, more and more, reaching the 13 feet tall... but it didn't grow only in height. Master Lantz made his muscles grow too... more than it would be normal in a body that tall, much more, up to grotesque proportions. Instants later the process was done and his gym rat friend had finished transforming into a giant, hyper muscular statue version of Master Lantz, sporting an arm-length erect cock.

Master Lantz looked at his statues now, perfect in their black marble pedestal. Two 'small' statues flexing next to a giant version of himself. He should stop turning others into copies of him, he knew so, but... seeing how nice they looked after the transformation, how could he put an end to it.

Gemmed!

Read part 2 HERE. Read part 3 HERE. How much time had passed since he was turned into a statue? He had submitted himself, willingly, to be a permanent statue in Master Lantz Skytower's art collection. Had it been days? months? years? he couldn't be sure, days and nights were the same to him. He couldn't feel cold or heat the way he used to, so he couldn't judge seasons.

He had no regrets, anyway. Being a permanent statue meant being in constant bliss, experiencing a permanent climax that, if anything, went more powerful each passing day, even if slighty... and getting pleasure rushes each time someone touched his surface, no matter where.

But then something changed. His Master, his Owner, came to the garden and stood in front to him. Master Lantz put a hand on the statue's chest. The statue thought he was going to feel the usual pleasure rush, but this time it was different. It came with a nice, warm feeling, and suddenly the statue could see himself from outside, like a ghost seeing its own body, floating in a nearby distance, unable to go further or closer to his body, and still able to feel all his body's sensations, including his Master's touch.

Curious, and unable to do anything else, the statue decided to look closer. He could see Master Lantz's energy flowing from his hand to the statue's chest, and the statue's body started to change. It got taller, with more defined muscles. The hair got dense but cut short, shaved sides. Marble hairs grew on his face, becoming a virile, short, full beard in seconds. The statue's cock started to change too, mostly in details than in length.

Soon the statue realized what was happening. He couldn't believe it! He was being transformed into a spitting image of his Master! It was all there, even to the smallest detail. If anything, he looked like a more handsome version of his Master. That was... AWESOME! But, then, what about him? about his own form? noone would ever recognize him... would he be forgotten? what about...

But then his "ghost" returned to the statue's body, and his Master’s power hit his mind.

It started with a huge bliss rush. More powerful than any other pleasure he had ever felt, either as a human or as a statue. It was too much, his mind was overhelmed, and it collapsed. Memories started to dissapear, replaced by pleasure. His thoughts became slippery until they went away, replaced by pleasure. His personality, likes and dislikes were gone, replaced by pleasure. Until there was nothing left, but pleasure. Only one single thought or idea remained: he existed only as a piece of art resembling his Master... and to feel pleasure.

He didn't care anymore about time, seasons or his life. But he wouldn't, even if he could.