A quick glance at the fountain and he decided that the best way to figure out how to get back to the house, "And if the path I'm following even goes that way," he thought, was to climb up onto the pedestal and take a look about. Peering into the fountain, not wanting to get any wetter than he already was, Jonathan climbed up on the edge of the round basin. Gingerly stepping out onto the first stone, he stopped when he thought he heard something.
A quick glance behind him and he called out, "Hello? Is someone there?"
No answer came and a shrug of his shoulders, Jonathan figured he'd been mistaken. Glancing in the direction of the next stone, he judged the distance and leapt forward. Arms pinwheeling, he almost missed and ended up in the fountain and starting to have doubts, he thought about going back, but then noticed that the middle was a lot closer than he'd thought. Quickly moving the rest of the way, he stopped when he reached the large column in the middle of the fountain.
Again, he thought he heard something moving behind him. Hugging the cool stone, the teenage boy peered back the way he'd come and thought that there appeared to be a bunch of short, knobby silhouettes lining the edge of the fountain. Blinking, unable to make out what he was looking at, he muttered, "Probably a trick of the light or something," as he turned his attention back to the column.
Statues he'd been unable to see greeted him as he searched for a way to shimmy up to the pedestal on top. Noting that every last statue was nude, he experienced a moment of hesitation as he found it troubling to be touching a dude's junk or a woman's parts, even if they were not real. But then, muttering, "Dude. Get it together. It's not like you are actually molesting a real person or anything," he took a deep breath and started to slowly climb the two stories up.
Grateful that the stone was dry and not slimy or anything, Jonathan was also glad he was in good shape, as he figured the climb would have been certainly difficult for anyone who wasn't in great physical condition. Starting to breath heavily as he neared the top, he tried his best to ignore what sounded like movement from below and instead continued to tell himself that it was merely his imagination. Reaching the flat surface, he rolled onto it and finding it was at least two times larger than the double size bed he had at home, he lay gasping for a moment. Catching his breath, listening to the rain tapping on the glass panes of the ceiling far above his head, he considered that maybe that had been what he'd heard and rolling over, cursing when an exposed pipe stuck into his side, he slowly stood and began looking about.
Far off in the distance, further than he had thought possible, he could see the house. Waiting for a flicker of lightning, he quickly searched for a door when it did come. But not finding any, he groaned, "Just have to wait for the next time everything lights up," and taking a step forward, intent to sit down, he gasped when something sharp pierced his shoe and stuck into his foot.
At first he thought it might have been the pipe. But then, as he felt a numbness start to creep up his leg, and another sharp prick, this time in his other leg, Jonathan had a briefly moment to realise the pain hadn't come from beneath his foot, but from on top before he crumled to the stone. The numbness spreading, he was able to turn his head, but for reasons he couldn't understand, he couldn't move the rest of his body. Another prick of pain, this time in his neck and Jonathan tried to scream as he watched a short, knobby creature wielding what looked like a blow-dart gun trundled closer.
Voices, low, gravelly, reached him and he could feel a bunch of time hands poking and prodding him as he heard, "Make a nice statue," "To ugly to leave up here," "There's a good spot on one of the benches below," and "Boys. I think we found the replacement that was lost some time ago."
Frightened, a need to flee swept over him and attemping to struggle, Jonathan tried to scream at these things to get away. But his own voice failing him, as even his lips wouldn't work, the teenage boy wanted to cry as the creatures began to first tie him up with ropes, then lower him back down off the pedestal. Awake, aware of everything happening around him, Jonathan tried to struggle some more, but found that whatever he'd been dosed with, it kept him completely stiff as he was slowly dropped back down, carried across the stepping stones, and toward one of the stone benches, this one with a woman in an outdated dress looking down at something the teenage boy couldn't see.
As he was set on the ground, he listened as several of the voices commanded, "Get the tools," as a number of feet scampered away. Trying to to plead, "Please. Don't. Just, leave me be," Jonathan was terrified that all that came out was something that sounded like, "Mmmm, mm, mmmmm, mmmmmmm."
His captors paid him no heed and instead began to pull and twist at him in an attempt to straighten him out. After they had done that, they produced a series of small scissors and proceeded to snip away his clothes. All to aware of this, Jonathan continued in his attempt to struggle, listening as the creatures, which he was beginning to think were, somehow, gnomes, stated, "Give these scraps to the women. They can be used to make bedding and clothing."
Naked, wanting to cry, Jonathan watched from the corner of his eyes as the pieces of his clothes, his shoes included, were hauled away as another large group of creatures approached, all carrying tools he guessed were for stone working, among other things the teenage boy didn't recognise. The group that had remained nodding at there approach quickly set about their task. Only catching fleeting glimpses, Jonathan was, for the most part, clueless as they spread on his feet, legs, groin, privates, and abdomen a white powder that gave him an alabaster appearance. Working it into some of the harder to reach places, including the area between his legs and his butt-crack, the creatures next applied something that turned what they had put on him into a thickening paste.
After they finished, the set about to examine the tools brought and selecting a couple, they returned to Jonathan. Starting at his feet, they worked a chisel, hammer and a number of other tools until his feet had been drastically reduced in size. As one group did this, another group quickly set to work on his legs, smoothing them and thinning them down. When both had finished, they turned they attention to his groin, privates, abdomen, buttocks.
Jonathan, aware that somehow the gnomes were altering him, wanted to cry. Grateful that he couldn't feel anything, he was shocked when the creatures set to work on his junk. Thinking they would merely reshape it, or make it so it looked like a leaf was covering it, he suddenly wanted to scream even more then before when they instead chisel it off and tossed it to the side. Seeing this, watching as his dick and nuts slowly crumbled to dust, he wanted to demand to know what they were doing. But, recalling the last time he'd tried to talk, Jonathan found that all he could do was lay there as the gnome continued in their tasks.
Quickly, efficiently, the creatures removed any sign of maleness and working between the legs, they fashioned what were clearly the lips major and minor. Spreading a paste on the newly formed vulva, they blew a sparkly dust on it and as the interior genitalia and reproductive organs began to form, they turned their attention to the butt and finishing that. The last touches added, they spread a plaster compound over something that now looked like a child from the waist down, then broke for a short break while they waited. Talking quietly between themselves, they discussed the next thing to tackle, with some wanting to focus on the hands, whilst others wanted to finish the torso. Hearing this, understanding that what they were doing was somehow turning him into a statue, Jonathan felt that, if he was able to, he would be sobbing by now.
Their break finished, the gnomes split into a number of smaller groups. One group started on the hands, whilst another set to finishing the torso. Both groups repeating the process of what they had done from before, they soon had everything from Jonathan's neck down to his waist coated in the same plaster compound. As they did this, the remaining groups worked on what Jonathan thought looked like a set of stone clothes. Trying to get a better look at what they were crafting, thinking that if he didn't know better, it was not only matching outdated clothes, but garments for a young girl, his last sight before the gnomes forced his eyes closed was a couple of the creatures approaching his scalp with a hammer and chisel.
After they had closed the teenage boy's eyes, the gnomes set to the task of making his face match the rest of what they had done. First the powder, then the agent that turned it to a thick paste. After which they chiseled off most of the scalp and began adding a different agent that added to and caused the hair to take on volume. Finishing with that, they covered their work with the same plaster compound, then turned their attention to the feet.
Slowly, they worked with hammers and chisels to remove the plaster they had used to cover what they saw would eventually be a pretty statue. Toes exposed first, then feet, legs next, they gradually worked upward, removing all of the plaster, leaving behind what looked like a statue of a female child of about five or six. After they had all of the compound removed, they set about putting on the stone clothes they had crafted - a pair knickers, what would have been silk stockings if they were real, garters to hold them up, buckle-type boots that came up past the ankles, an undershirt and slip, then a dress that looked like, if it was real, would be made of soft cotton, an overcoat that could have been wool, a wide-brimmed hat, which they affixed to Jonathan's hand, and last a bow to tie back the hair.
Satisfied with their handy work, the gnomes stood back, admiring the cherubic statue of what now looked like Victorian-era child, commenting, "Damn fine work, boys," "We outdid ourselves," and, "The master will be please," ever so often before beginning to fasten ropes and pulleys to they statue.
Jonathan, still unaware of what had fully happened, his eyes still firmly closed, did have a fleeting sense that some feeling was coming back to his body. Only, what was returning didn't feel right, as it felt stiff, hard. Aware of movement, he wanted to know what was happening, but found that, still, he had no ability to speak. The feeling gradually returning, he was shocked when suddenly he felt a pair of fingers open his eyes and that he was staring out at the garden at such an angle he guessed his head was surely resting in the lap of the stone woman. Realising that he had been positioned on the bench, he tried to struggle, but found he still couldn't move, even as he became increasingly aware that his mind was still that of a fifteen year old guy, but his body was that of a girl much, much younger.
The gnomes, who'd gotten their statue in place with very little trouble, admired their work a bit more as a couple placed a plaque on the front of the stone bench. The statue of the woman now, in their opinion, looked once again complete as it now depicted a mother with her daughter lying on the bench. The daughter's head was in the mother's lap, while the mother's had was placed lovingly on the child's head. Seeing that the child's eyes were still animate, they figured this couldn't be helped and that, after a couple decades, they would become like the rest of the statue. Shaking hands, patting each other on the back, offering congratulations, they collected their tools and other stuff and soon disappeared, leaving no trace they had been there, none except a fixed statue and replaced plaque that read:
"Mother and Child. In loving memory of Eliza Spelstorm and her daughter Faith Spelstorm. Taken before their time."