Fragments.ws is devoted to adult-themed, SCI-FI and Speculative Fiction. In most of these stories, men are turned into statues, animals, mythological creatures, and other transformations.
Jeremiah dumped a bag of cement into the mixer. Dust outlined his muscles and grayed his curly hair. He shook his bare torso and leaned into the cool ocean breeze. He wanted to grab his surf board and jump into the clear blue water of the Pacific.
"I hate this crap sticking to my skin."
"Quit complaining. You know the deal -- play statue for a day and get a month-long vacation in paradise," Isaiah said, rotating the mixer.
"Paradise? Something about sleeping next to an active volcano scares me. Kilauea rumbled all last night." Jeremiah turned around. Paul, their host stood behind him.
"Pele walks among us. I hope you gave thanks when she passed, young man," Paul said.
"The stewardess said that Pele the fire goddess lives in the volcano and gets hungry for pork roast. She said a man driving home from a pig roast one night, felt the presence of a woman in his car. He almost wrecked the car but nothing was there. But when he got home, the leftover pork roast was missing." Jeremiah giggled. "I'd give you even money that he made up the story about the missing meat so his wife wouldn't know he porked his mistress. But Pele knew..., she smelled tuna on the man's meat," Jeremiah giggled.
"Aw come on Jeremiah, grow up. The man is paying us for being beach bums. This is so much better than rainy, old Seattle. Nothing comes for nothing." Isaiah scowled. He added water to the mixer.
"I'll give Pele her due any day. I didn't think I'd have to mix the cement."
"Jerk, neither the volcano nor Pele bothers me. Second-degree sunburn and dehydration do." Isaiah ran a hand through his buzz cut. Dirt and sunblock crusted his scorched red body.
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The First 300 Words:
Jeremiah dumped a bag of cement into the mixer. Dust outlined his muscles and grayed his curly hair. He shook his bare torso and leaned into the cool ocean breeze. He wanted to grab his surf board and jump into the clear blue water of the Pacific.
"I hate this crap sticking to my skin."
"Quit complaining. You know the deal -- play statue for a day and get a month-long vacation in paradise," Isaiah said, rotating the mixer.
"Paradise? Something about sleeping next to an active volcano scares me. Kilauea rumbled all last night." Jeremiah turned around. Paul, their host stood behind him.
"Pele walks among us. I hope you gave thanks when she passed, young man," Paul said.
"The stewardess said that Pele the fire goddess lives in the volcano and gets hungry for pork roast. She said a man driving home from a pig roast one night, felt the presence of a woman in his car. He almost wrecked the car but nothing was there. But when he got home, the leftover pork roast was missing." Jeremiah giggled. "I'd give you even money that he made up the story about the missing meat so his wife wouldn't know he porked his mistress. But Pele knew..., she smelled tuna on the man's meat," Jeremiah giggled.
"Aw come on Jeremiah, grow up. The man is paying us for being beach bums. This is so much better than rainy, old Seattle. Nothing comes for nothing." Isaiah scowled. He added water to the mixer.
"I'll give Pele her due any day. I didn't think I'd have to mix the cement."
"Jerk, neither the volcano nor Pele bothers me. Second-degree sunburn and dehydration do." Isaiah ran a hand through his buzz cut. Dirt and sunblock crusted his scorched red body.
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