Statues...They aren't just for museums anymore

When I sat down to write the follow up to my short story, Soft Marble, I knew I had gods to worry about. I did. In Soft Bronze, the main character is a god entombed in bronze. He's not much different than the statues I've chosen on this page. Well, maybe a little different. He's a guy and the ones below are girls, but you get the idea. 

Now I said in the title that statues weren't for museums any longer. None of the statues I chose were from museums. They're from parks and churches. But I meant my statue and that bronze coming to life. It's crazy. Statues coming to life? Really?

I didn't think it could be possible. Well, other than the living statues like the ones in New York and Las Vegas. I don't know how those people can hold still that long, let alone in some of those crazy poses. I couldn't do it, but those who know me know I can't sit still at all. 

If you could be a statue, which would you be? A David? A woman in a fantastic gown? A fairy? Gnome? I'd love to know. Me? I'd be one of those sleeping statues, the kind that's in wet drapery, buxom and sleeping near a park or grave. I don't know what it is about those, but I think they're beautiful. Guess I'm odd. Or I'm looking at them as to how I can work them into a story. Grin. 

Check out a little bit about my latest paranormal story, Soft Bronze. Out now where ebooks are sold. 

Soft Bronze by Megan Slayer  

Short Story (Quickie)

Paranormal, Contemporary, Sci-Fi/Fantasy

M/M, Anal Sex

Ellora’s Cave

Sequel to Soft Marble

Zelus, the god of jealousy, has been imprisoned in solid bronze for the last two millennia. A simple kiss can break the spell and free him from the metal—if his lover is willing to believe.

Camden Crowe isn’t a specialist in ancient artifacts, but he does know how to guard them. He spends his days working as a security guard in charge of keeping the bronze statue of Zelus safe. He can’t contain his attraction to the nude god. What will happen when the security geek finds out he’s stronger than he ever believed and can harness the power of the gods?

Reader Advisory: This story has graphic sexual language and scenes—no closed bedroom doors (or other rooms) here!

A Romantica® male/male erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave

On Kindle: http://www.amazon.com/Soft-Bronze-Megan-Slayer-ebook/dp/B00U7Z61YC/ref=sr_1_13?ie=UTF8&qid=1425749294&sr=8-13&keywords=megan+slayer

On Nook: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/soft-bronze-megan-slayer/1121341548?ean=9781419993374

At AllRomance Ebooks: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-softbronze-1764388-237.html 

Excerpt:

©Megan Slayer, 2015, All Rights Reserved

“What a shame. They should pack you in something better than straw. You should have the best. Respect.” He touched Zelus’ cheek. The bronze had taken on a dark patina over the years and hid the metal’s natural beauty. He knew better than to expect the statue to come to life. Fairy tales and magic only happened in books. Life wasn’t a book. Still, he wondered what the god might have looked like if he were a real man. Dark hair with a bit of curl and body…sparkling eyes—blue maybe…or would they be brown? He figured the real man would have a brilliant smile guaranteed to make everyone melt to his will. He longed to run his fingers through the statue’s expertly sculpted hair and over every muscle of the man’s body until he came to Zelus’ cock. He sucked in a long breath. The man was packing. Most ancient statues weren’t so endowed. Either the artist really liked Zelus or he’d fashioned the dick after someone he knew. Each ridge and vein were expertly defined. The cock looked so realistic. Kudos to the artist for his work.

Camden chuckled. He had to be out of his mind, fantasizing about a statue. Maybe old Gus was right. He was screwed up. Actually, it didn’t matter if he was a little different. He didn’t care. He liked the statue and he wasn’t ready to let it go.

“I’ll visit you.” He touched his lips, then the lips of the statue. A wild idea popped into his head. The next time he’d see the statue, it would be on display surrounded by palm trees or even worse, dressed in crappy touristy clothes. If he kissed the bronze, no one would know or probably care. He leaned into the crate and pressed his mouth to the mouth of the statue. His entire body warmed. The erection from before came back stronger. He moaned, then broke the kiss. A lip-lock with the statue turned him on. The metal didn’t taste like metal…more like the salty sweat of a hardworking man. Even the texture wasn’t right. The lips felt softer, like an actual person, and seemed to be kissing him back. Christ, he needed to get out more and stop allowing his imagination to get away from him.

“I wish you were real.” Camden smiled, then left the statue. He knew better than to expect his dreams to come true, but his soul yearned for a man like the one portrayed in the bronze. He’d fallen in love with the statue.

* * * * *

http://wendizwaduk.com/indexMegan.htm

Megan Slayer - It's Always Fun to Squirm

A Man Made of Marble?

Is it possible for a man to be created from marble? Of course. Statues all over Europe and Asia are made of them. There are quite a few in the USA, too. But what if that marble came to life? I've always wondered what could happen.

Soft Marble was born out of a flash fiction prompt. Something coming to life and being sexy. Seems pretty simple and it is, but for my story there was a little more to it. There's sex, romance and playing around in an art room. Hinky!

This story was also spawned from a visit to a wax museum. A few years back, I'd gone to a wax museum featuring rock and roll dignitaries. As I rounded the corner, Gene Simmons was staring back at me from in front of Marilyn Manson's face. It was a reflection on the glass, but still, it was spooky. Then there was the other incident. Again, rounding a corner I noticed Steven Tyler's hair moving. Now, in a wax museum, with glass encasing the figures, nothing should move. NOTHING SHOULD MOVE! Honestly, it freaked me out until I realized it was the fans blowing on the figures to keep them a regular temperature. But it got me thinking. What would happen if these things did come to life? It would either be really freaky, or it would be kinda cool. Imagine, John Lennon coming to life. What kind of music would he make? Would people believe him? What about Hendrix? Or Janis Joplin? It would be interesting.

So for my take on the statuary coming to life, I chose to run with a Greek minor God. It's funny, I knew nothing about Kratos before the research for this story. Now I know quite a bit.

Do you want to know what happens when a statue comes to life? Then check out Soft Marble. Here's a sampling!

Soft Marble  

M/M, Anal Sex, Masturbation

Quickie line – Contemporary, Fantasy, LGBT

Ellora’s Cave Spectrum Short Story

One touch from his lover and this marble will come to life.

Kratos, God of power and strength, has been imprisoned in pure white marble for more than two centuries. His lover can break the spell—if only his lover would find him.

Andy Green knows his ancient artifacts. He spends his days restoring works of art. When the sculpture of Kratos enters his studio, he can’t hide his attraction. Will he be able to free the god or will forces beyond his control destroy everything he’s earned?

Available here: http://www.ellorascave.com/soft-marble.html

©Megan Slayer, 2014, all rights reserved

Andy strolled down the hallway to the restoration room with his bag slung over his shoulder. He still couldn’t wrap his mind around what had happened. One minute he was cleaning a sexy statue and the next he was talking to the man who’d been the statue. His stomach rumbled. Maybe the encounter with Kratos came out of his lack of food in the last twelve hours. Possibly.

When Andy entered the room, Kratos stood next to his pedestal. He grinned and pointed to the place he’d once stood.

“Magic.” Kratos’ smile grew and he shrugged. “Gods can do things like that.”

“You—you put you up there.” Andy touched the marble. The stone chilled his fingers. The statue resembled the one brought in for him to clean. He studied the facial expression. “It’s almost like you.” His gaze switched between Kratos and the marble. “He’s not so pensive. Less detailed.” He turned his attention back to Kratos. “What happened?”

“I am a god. We have magic at our fingertips.”

Andy stared at the naked man. He kept saying he was a god. The replica statue helped—especially since it had been conjured seemingly out of thin air, but still. The bag on his shoulder slipped to the crook of his arm.

“Oh fuck.” Andy offered him the gym bag. “Here are some clothes. I’ll leave you alone to get dressed.”

“Why?” Kratos accepted the bag. “How does this work?” He tugged on the bag. “I’ve never seen one like this before.”

“I forgot. It’s a zipper.” Andy tugged the tab, opening the bag. “If you’re sticking around a while, I’ll have to get you up to speed on current culture.” That is, if Kratos wanted him to teach him. The man could always tell him to get lost.

“I hope you do.” Kratos withdrew the T-shirt. He wrestled the garment over his head, covering his chest. The shirt molded to his upper body like a second skin.

“Wow,” Andy murmured. “Looks great on you.” He expected Kratos to kick him out of the room and want privacy. He was a god, right? Didn’t gods expect preferential treatment? “I’ll leave you alone to change.”

“Stay."