Passion And Lust 01

Dropping the shovel again, Allen coughed into his arm. His throat burned with dust as he hacked up whatever had snuck in.

I'm gonna be paying for this later,

he thought.

Should've brought some kinda cough medicine.

This was the first time he'd devoted himself to such a dig, and after two days of going straight down, he'd still not uncovered anything. Granted, there's only so much one man can do in two days, and he'd never been the most athletic person, but his 25-year-old physique was serving him well enough. Looking up, he saw golden rays of sun crossing overhead, illuminating the abandoned building surrounding the hole.

Must be getting late. I'll have to call it a day in another hour.

Grabbing the shovel, he set back to work, tossing as much dirt as he could straight out of the hole. If this went on much longer, he'd need to get a container of some sort and start lugging the dirt out. At just over six feet deep, not even his head was visible from the surface. Grunting, he devoted himself to digging, determined to make the most out of this last hour. His hands and shovel moved like a machine, shovelful after shovelful. Sweat covered his entire body and his muscles ached for rest. Not now, though. He should almost be—

With a roar, the earth underneath him gave way, like the maw of a creature opening to swallow him up. Allen cried out, grabbing for the sides of the hole, but the dirt gave him nothing to hold onto. A thousand images of his broken body and tragic headlines rushed through his head as he slipped into a freefall, dirt all about him. What a stupid way to die.

Luckily for Allen, the drop quickly came to a halt. His back and arm hit first, slamming into the ground with a dull thud. He yelled again, this time in pain, huddling over and clenching the arm he landed on. Slowly removing his hand, he lifted the arm to get a look at it. There was a nasty-looking bruise going all the way from just below his shoulder to past his elbow, but no skin was broken. He winced when he moved it the wrong way. Hurt like a bitch. He figured his back was in much the same state, but with it already being sore all day yesterday and today, it didn't bug him as much.

Realizing the place he had dropped into was much larger than the hole he fell through, Allen lifted his head and looked around. There wasn't an abundance of light leaking through the hole overhead, but it was enough to make out the boundaries of the room. It was a large, square room, big enough to be a dining hall or something similar, he guessed. The walls were mostly plain, but he could see the shadows of some strange markings in the middle of the walls all away around the room. There were two doorways, though one had long since collapsed from the looks of it. The other, however, was clear, a stale air blowing out of it. The sudden opening Allen made in the ceiling of this place must be allowing the old air to circulate again, he figured.

A grin grew on his face. This was what he'd been looking for! All that time invested in finding this place and getting to it was finally paying off! Stumbling to his feet, he started forward, then paused.

I can't see shit.

Looking back at the hole, he tried to find some way back up. Unfortunately, he hadn't accommodated for the ground opening beneath him. The hole was a good six or so feet over his head if he stood on the top of the dirt pile beneath it, and the surface another six feet higher than that.

"Hello? Hey, anyone up there? I need some help!"

No answer. Damnit. Not like he had expected one, anyways. The area he'd been digging was sparsely visited and the building in which he'd made the hole had been long abandoned. He rummaged through his pockets. Keys, wallet... damnit, his cell phone was still on the surface. He'd left it there to keep it from getting dirty. Rather have a dirty cell phone than none at all right now, though. Wait—he froze as his fingers closed around something. It was his lighter. He might've stopped smoking a few months ago, but still kept a lighter on him out of habit. It'd been so automatic he almost forgot. The flame it produced was dinky compared to the size of the place he was in, but light is light. Now he'd have an actual chance to look for something that might get him out of here. Maybe another exit, or an object he could climb.

"Who ever figured that habit woulda helped me some day?"

He chuckled to himself, but cut it off with a wince when pain shot up his back. Guess now wasn't the time for quips. Before moving on, he scanned the current room once more for anything that might be of use, but there was nothing to be found. Holding out the lighter in front of him, Allen clicked it on and moved forward.

The air smelled like dust mixed with sweat. Allen had to remind himself the sweat was probably his own. The lighter didn't illuminate much, but he could at least make out where to put his feet and silhouettes a ways out. The walls of the room must've been further out, though, because he couldn't see them. Every now and then, he paused to look behind himself, making sure he could still see the pillar of light in the previous room. His heart began thumping faster, a mix of expectation and fear rushing though his body. This could be the very room in which he found the jewel, the forgotten treasure of this city.

He came to a halt, almost bumping into a brazier. It stood just a few inches shorter than him and it was filled with something. Allen couldn't recognize whatever it was, whether it be due to the poor lighting or lack of knowledge. But if braziers were supposed to be lit, maybe, just maybe, the stuff inside was still flammable. Swallowing, he lowered his lighter into it.

"C'mon, I could use a little luck right now."

It wasn't instant, but after a few moments of holding his lighter to brazier, it filled with fire. Allen jerked his hand out, yelping in surprise. As light encompassed the room, he grinned like a fool, clapping his hands together before stashing the lighter away and patting it in his pocket.

Maybe I should take up smoking again.

He succumbed to a fit of coughing, grasping at his chest and praying his throat would have some mercy on him today. When the fit passed, he rescinded his earlier thought about smoking.

Now able to make out the room, Allen took stock of his surroundings. This room wasn't as wide as the last room, but much longer. Markings covered the walls, images of various scenes all mixed with aged writing. The brazier itself sat just in front of a row of steps leading up to...

Allen's jaw dropped.

There it was.

Atop a statue rested a large jewel, drinking in the glow of the flame and glinting in the flickering light. Allen ascended the stairs as if in a trance, still unbelieving of what his eyes were telling him. If his research was correct—and he had spent months making sure it was—then that jewel was worth over a hundred million dollars. He'd be set for life! No more shit nine-to-five, no more dealing with assholes at the library, not another minute working under Jesse Kiss-My-Ass. All he had to do was take the jewel.

As he approached, he got a better look at the statue it lay on. It took the form of a woman, a beautiful woman at that, gazing down the center aisle of the room with a peaceful, passive stare. She had eight arms, all in some sort of gesture, kind of like a Hindu goddess. Her figure was intimidating like one as well. When Allen stood level with the statue it dwarfed his 5'10" figure by at least six inches, held up by long, flowing legs that ended in thick, smooth thighs and hips. She was depicted wearing minimal clothing, nothing more than a thin strip of silk over both her breasts and her waist. Allen could make out some sort of jewelry or other accessory on some of the arms and the wrists. He hoped for a second they were made of real gold, but frowned when he saw they were stone like the rest of the statue.

Still, the craftsmanship was breathtaking, truly worthy of the jewel it held. He brushed his hand along her stomach. The stone was perfectly smooth, like real skin, except it didn't give way and the was cool to the touch.

The artist who did this must've had quite the stunning model. She's incredible.

Her bosom bulged out with at least D-size breasts, maybe bigger. Running his thumb across the 'fabric' that covered the statue's breasts, he was surprised to find it, too, was life-like. He leaned in to inspect the arms closer. They were slender and graceful, like the rest of the woman's figure, but he could make out veins and hints of muscle as well. He rubbed his chin for a second. Given the impressive height, arms, and breast size, this was probably meant to be a figure of sexuality. A grin animated Allen's face once more. That fit in perfectly with his research: the jewel was supposedly a beacon of this figure's power and aided men and women with their sexual urges.

Those were just old beliefs, though. Certainly not based in reality.

"Hmmmm," said Allen, walking around the statue. Both his problems might be solved with this. If he could somehow get it to the hole, it was tall enough for him to climb over and escape. He got on his knees and checked the feet of the statue. They weren't anchored to the ground at all. Amazing it didn't fall over in all this time, but he wasn't complaining. If he was careful and didn't damage the statue at all, he might be able to fetch a pretty price for it as well. Granted, it'd be nothing like the hundred mil for the jewel, but the impressive skill put into this must be worth something.

First things first, though. Allen didn't want the jewel damaged while he moved the statue back over to the hole. Slowly, he moved his hands to the jewel. They shook with anticipation, palms sweaty from both the work they'd been doing and a rush of anxiety from being so closed to his goal. Carefully, as if the jewel were made of eggshell, Allen slipped his fingers between the jewel and the statue. It popped out without much protest, surprising after all these years. Allen's face hurt from smiling so wide as he brought the jewel in to admire it.

It glowed a fierce red, it's hexagon shape bordered by a silver casing. Up close it looked even larger, barely fitting in the palm of one of Allen's hands. The cuts and corners in it were clean and precise, something remarkable for the age in which it was crafted.

Allen slipped the gem in his pants pocket, then turned back to the statue. First, he'd have to figure out how much the thing weighs. As he reached forward, he paused, squinting at the statue's pristine face. Was it looking at him?

One of the eight arms darted out, grabbing Allen by the wrist. He whooped and stumbled back in surprise, tipping the statue's balance forward. He winced as it began to topple, but was shocked once again when it stepped forward to balance itself.

"Holy shit!" Allen had had plenty enough adventure for today. He yanked at the arm the statue held, but its grip was of cold, firm stone: impossible to break.

The statue squinted at Allen, it's face no longer gentle. Cursing, Allen grabbed the statue's hand that held him and pulled with all his might, trying to slip his wrist free. The statue retaliated by grabbing his other wrist and wrenching his arms away from each other. Its strength was brutal and overwhelming, its grip like iron.

"Fuck this!" Allen delivered a swift kick into the statue's crotch, but his foot gave way to the stone and he only ended up injuring himself. Frowning, the statue lifted Allen effortlessly by his arms, leaning in to get a better look at his face. It regarded him with a mix or fury and curiosity, probably wondering who was intruding and what they wanted. Allen rained down more kicks, desperate to somehow break the statue's concentration and release him, but he soon found his legs in its grip as well.

Using all eight of its arms to ensure it never released him, the statue turned Allen around so he was facing away. He tried looking over his shoulder to get a view of whatever the statue was doing, but couldn't make much out. With one hand on each of his wrists and ankles, the statue spread Allen's body out and began to probe it with its free hands. His pants and shirt were torn off and discarded. He winced once when they came off and again when his pants hit the ground, hoping the jewel was still intact. Of course, he'd have to get out of this alive if that were to really matter.

The touch of four cold stone hands made him gasp; one on each leg and two crawling up his back. They squeezed at and rubbed his bare skin, at times with a bit more force than comfortable. As they moved along his body, he was surprised to find they all felt like actual hands. Had they not been freezing cold, he'd never been able to tell they were made of stone from touch alone.

It was at that moment Allen began to realize that statue probably hadn't been crafted after any woman, but instead

was

a woman—well, one with eight arms—turned to stone. Is that what the jewel did? Turned people to stone and made them mutants?

His train of thought was shattered when the statue's inspection brought its hands to his underwear.

"Hey!"

Two of the hands tore off his underwear while the other two began circling his waist. They moved faster now, as if animated by some sort of hunger. The statue suddenly pulled Allen in against its chest. He could feel its rock-hard nipples against his back and its chest rise and fall as if breathing. The circling hands eventually made it to Allen's cock, one grabbing the shaft with a firm grip and the other collecting his balls in its palm.

"HEY!"

What the fuck was this thing doing? It was giving his privates a hell of a lot more attention than any other part of his body. Had it been searching for them?

The hand on his shaft began pumping, a slow, deliberate motion up and down from his base to his tip. The touch was delicate for a stone hand, but strong enough to fully stimulate every inch of his cock with each stroke. Allen began breathing hard, staring at the hand pumping him. In a weird way—a really fucking weird way—this made sense. The statue was supposedly a symbol of sexuality. If he had somehow awoken it by removing the jewel, then the first thing it would seek out is, well, sex. He couldn't help but moan as the hand hit a good rhythm. If this was all the statue wanted, then he might as well relax and enjoy it, then let it move on to whatever. Maybe it'd even go back to sleep.

Allen bit his lip. He very much hoped it'd be done with him after this and wasn't some vengeful guardian planning on fucking him to death then taking the jewel back.

The hand holding his balls began to play with them, giving a light squeeze before rolling them around in its palm. Allen went limp in the statue's grasp, trying to make the most out of what it was giving him. Taking this as a symbol of acceptance, the statue moved its two other free hands to his hardness and began stroking, all four working in perfect rhythm with the others. Eyes going wide with pleasure, Allen gasped, arching his back and lifting his head. His member was painfully erect now, drowned in the attentions of the statue's four nimble hands.

Stone hands—hell, any hands—should not feel this good!

The hands' grips fluctuated, keeping Allen on the edge of his arousal and ensuring no part of him was left unattended. Two hands worked his shaft while another kneaded his tip and the last cupped his balls. Then they shifted, two on his tip, two on his shaft. Every time Allen thought they were sinking into a pattern, they would move, electrifying his cock with pleasure.

Allen's thoughts ran a mile a minute. Setting aside the absurdity of the idea of a stone statue coming to life to make him come, what the hell could come next? Was this thing smart enough to realize what was going on? Or was it just some simple-minded statue that fucks everything it sees? His eyes went to his discarded pants where the jewel peeked out of a pocket. What was that jewel, really?

A surge of pleasure stole Allen's attention. His release approached and the hands moved as if they could sense it. All four went to his shaft and began a meticulous pumping, designed to milk the most out of his balls and bring him to orgasm as quickly as possible. Seizing up, Allen grunted and thrust his hips forward into the furiously-working hands. One moved to his tip to catch each burst of semen, and when the one couldn't hold all of it, another joined. The two remaining hands continued to masturbate and milk Allen until he collapsed into the statue's grip, spent from the explosive orgasm.

He stared at the ground, wondering if the statue was done with him, now. Stars dancing in his eyes, he shuddered, shaking off the post-climax feeling. Whatever the statue wanted, it wasn't done yet. It still held him at the wrists and ankles. Looking back at the statue, Allen saw its cum-soiled hands down near its nethers. One hand full of semen slipped into its folds and the statue closed its eyes as if in pleasure.

Wait. What? This thing can feel pleasure, too? And what the hell is it...?

Liquid began dripping out of the statue's pussy. It didn't look anything like semen, which would mean...

"The statue came?"

It pulled its first hand out of its pussy and stuck the other cum-filled hand in. Allen saw its mouth curl into the slightest smile as the hand dug as deep as it could. Just the fact it was able to stick an entire hand up there was incredible enough to him.

His observation was interrupted when the statue's three free hands went back to his member and started stroking again. Allen's hips twitched, his shaft still sensitive from the last assault on it.

"H-hey there, I'm not sure—"

Somehow, the hands were getting him hard again. He could feel the familiar burning of arousal rising up within his loins and energy seeping back into his body. This had to be some sort of voodoo or magic that the statue or jewel possessed. There was no way he'd be ready for a round two so fast.

Or maybe the statue was just that good.

The statue turned Allen around, never allowing those three hands to leave his member. It wanted him primed and ready for whatever was next. Allen groaned and twisted in its grip, but not from a desire to escape. The grace and dexterity with which each finger played across his cock made his head spin.

One hand went to Allen's chin, lifting up his head to face the statue's. It was more than stone that gazed down upon him; a calm, yet pleased face, intelligence plain in its eyes. Its smooth cheeks dimpled just a bit with its slight smile.

This isn't an 'it'. This is a 'she'. That's not some mindless sex statue in those eyes.

Two of her hands left his member, wrapping around his back and pulling him up against her body. In this stance, Allen truly got to appreciate how much taller the statue was and how much broader her hips were. Her stomach and chest fluctuated against Allen's with each breath, her stone skin smooth yet firm to the touch. She brought his legs around her waist, showing incredible flexibility with her arms as she locked his ankles together behind her. She directed the tip of his cock to her lower entrance, then paused to look at Allen. Swallowing, he shifted his gaze between her face and his cock. Was she seriously wanting to...? With a stone body? Would that even work?

She hadn't pushed him all the way in, though. Like she was waiting for something. Allen fidgeted in her rigid grip, wondering what it was. She motioned to his cock.

"You're... asking?"

She didn't acknowledge the question. Those stone ears of hers must not work. From the look in her eyes, and the way she hesitated, Allen figured he wouldn't be crushed by going for it.

This is ridiculous. Fucking ridiculous!

But his dick was aching with arousal and a heaven of pleasure was not even an inch away. Biting his lower lip, he nodded. Hopefully his trust wasn't misplaced.