Fox McCloud pushed past another branch, following the signal on his PDA, the only thing on the device that remotely seemed to work. Something on this planet was causing problems with anything electronic that got too close, and it clearly had been going on for some time. About a dozen derelict ships still floated in orbit and there were signs that others had crashed down onto the surface over the years, not to mention wrecks where hulks had collided. A ship graveyard created when those craft had likely lost systems to whatever mysterious problem was in play.

But, amongst the ships had been the abandoned transport of a Cornerian VIP, no sign of him or his ships crew, but escape pods all jettisoned. Finding them was the current mission for Star Fox. There wasn't anything coming from the surface except for some odd signals that couldn't be pinpointed to an exact spot, certainly no distress calls. Trying to find where the pods had landed would be tricky - The Great Fox had to hang back or lose systems. Fox took the first effort to try and check the surface, basically gliding an Arwing in and having to do every step of the landing manually. Trying to actually fly over the place was out, and even if a Landmaster could have been deployed it too would break down. Assuming, of course, it could get past all the trees.

So here he was, looking for a needle in a stack of needles on foot, his only communication method to get back in the Arwing and launch it basically vertically, like a rocket rather than the nimble spacefighter it was, and get far away enough to resume comms... or better yet, just land and refuel since odds were he'd use up nearly all the juice in the process. Still, on the way down, he'd seen a clearing a good distance away from where he was forced to land, unable to steer the ship enough to get closer.

Unfortunately, even with a destination, it had been an hour or two of walking through the humid and warm forest. His white jacket was off, slung over his shoulder, and even then he was sweltering.

"Sometimes I hate having fur... Don't suppose comms are working magically? No?" He tried out of slight boredom, shaking his head when it naturally failed, and he reached the edge of the treeline at last.

He'd reached the clearing. The trees gone what seemed to be old ruins, dozens of pillars standing, piles of rubble, arrayed in a large circle. An old temple perhaps... or the source of at least one signal. And from the ground, he could now see what seemed to be a crashed escape pod half buried in the grasslands around the ruins.

McCloud tried to check his PDA again, finding it able only to track the signal. The map was failing, so he'd scribbled a crude one with pencil and paper, and guessed he'd walked about three miles from his landing spot.

"Well, escape pod, ruins, seems a good place to start," He said to himself, and made his way towards the landmarks. 

The ground below the grass was rocky and uneven, likely why it had kept the trees at bay, but he reached the first destination, the crash site. The pod had been empty, the survival kits taken, but no sign of how many of the crew had been in it. This design usually held two, though, and there seemed to be tracks heading into the ruins. Fox followed them, but felt an odd sensation too, a strange and brief longing to speed up.

"...No, I need to go slow, if I run and snap my ankle crawling back to the ship's going to be a mess."

He picked his way over the uneven land again, eventually reaching the somewhat more stable ruins, though the cracked stones and fallen rubble still ensured movement needed caution. In the mid-day sun, he noted there seemed to be many shapes in the ruins, and upon closer inspection, he realised what they were.

"...Statues? How come they're all scattered around these ruins rather than rubble themselves?"

He looked around, and noted a few things. First every statue was a male, and nude. Second, they all seemed to be of different ages: some seemed freshly carved, almost, while others had weathering signs, some were even cracked and mossy, and some piles of rubble seemed to be former statues that had collapsed. Third, each seemed to stand not on a pedestal or other method of display, but right on the stone floor of the ruins. But the strangest thing was that each and every one had their penises erect, and expressions on their faces that Fox felt lay as a mix between ecstasy and terror. Most were posed with hands and arms as if something had held them in place, the statues showing some signs of trying to move. Fox felt both an urge to leave and yet, a whisper in the back of his mind seeking further investigation....

The conflicting thoughts saw a winner when he spotted  what seemed to be a discarded jacket bearing the symbols of a Cornerian squadron. But picking it up, he noted it seemed to have lain a while, covered in dirt and even some mouldy growth.

"Weird. Not from the missing crew, I suppose, but that might mean other Cornerians landed here?" 

He went deeper into the temple, and groaned in discomfort. The hot stones were worse than the humid forest, just as damp but having warmed up in the sunlight. He felt so warm he might have to take his flight suit off...

"Well, I guess I'm alone," he shrugged, and unzipped the green suit, leaving himself in a pair of tight fitting navy blue shorts, a damp black undershirt, and his boots. 

He left the discarded clothing on a rubble pile, and then frowned. Fallen beside the rubble was a badly decayed pile of rags, looking a lot like it might have been some kind of denim fabric once. 

And on close inspection, buried under piles of moss and dirt, there seemed to be a lot of other discarded and decayed clothes.

"This place gets weirder and weirder. And... Why'd I take my clothes off?!" he seemed to realise suddenly, gathering them back up.

He was looking for crashed survivors! Walking up to them in his undies was hardly the kind of image he wanted to present! But it was so warm... Maybe he'd move slowly, and if he saw a sign of someone else he'd redress quickly?

Moving onwards, he found the statues covered many different species. Lions, tigers, bears, dogs, cats, wolves, simians, lizards, avians, amphibians. The only consistencies were their stony erections and total nudity. He tugged off his t-shirt and dropped his piled suit as he moved.

"Don't suppose any you fellas have seen some survivors? No?" He asked a trio of statues, a hyena that seemed fairly fresh with just a little moss and cracking, a dog that had a few more cracks and growth, and a mossy crumbling rabbit that seemed to be a few fractures short of total collapse..

The three gave no reply, but Fox wondered why these three statues seemed aged differently. Had they not been originally part of the ruins? Who put them here, and why in these depictions? He shook his head. Not the current mystery, he concluded, pulling his boots off.

He found himself moving into another part of the ruins, it seemed to be the remains of a large hall. A few shattered walls and piles of fallen debris littered the wide area, as did more statues. As Fox walked, he came across another very decayed statue. It looked like the remains of an avian, a barrel chest now coated in moss, his left arm/wing fallen off, and many of his stone feathers broken. And then Fox realised... the feathers. They weren't a solid mass carved in place. They were like individual feathers painted.

He looked to another statue, one that seemed brand new almost. A dog. He followed the eyes of the canine and noted that he stared at another fresh looking statue, another dog.

Two dogs. Two crew. Two fresh statues, and what seemed to be some discarded fresh clothing. A pair of white briefs, and some bone-patterned trunks, lying not too far from the two newer statues. And with a yelp of shock, he realised at some point he'd taken off his boxers, looking back to see them discarded at the entrance to this ruined hall. He was completely nude, every spot of his orange and cream fur on display.

"Wh-what was I thinking?!" He said, and tried to go back to grab the discarded clothes, only to find his feet locked in place.

"...What the? How am I stuck?" 

And then he felt his arms being pulled on, and a sensation like fingers fluttering over his whole body. He thought he smelled perfume, heard voices whispering, and groaned as he felt a sudden pleasure washing over himself.

"Ah... Wha..."

He looked around the area, at the statues, but in his head he was seeing other visions. He thought of Krystal, but efforts to keep it about more than just a carnal thought failed as he imagined times spent with her. And as lust seemed to drive his thoughts he recalled past experiments. Other women, other men, that time those twins at the academy had... 

"Gha! No!" He groaned, trying to clear his head, but it wasn't working.

 He felt himself growing harder and harder, pink shaft standing tall as he heard ghostly whispers, smelled phantom scents, and replayed old memories back and forth. He gave another gurgle of delight and protest.

It felt now like there were hands stroking his shaft. He could smell his own musky precum, hear it dripping. He was aroused to the point of near madness it seemed, felt his balls churning and tightening as the ghostly feelings rubbed over his most sensitive spots. He glanced down, looking at his drippy pointed red member, seeing his knot starting to emerge, wishing his arms would move... It felt like something was holding his arms back, as the well-build fox was wracked with arousal and a desire to move his unyielding arms to just run along his own shaft....

And then his green eyes widened as he noticed below the knees, his legs were grey. The grey of the statues. The colour was spreading, rusty fur turning to ashen stone. The grey areas felt there, but slightly cold...

"N-no! How?!" He yelped, and then felt another sensation of unwanted delight.

There he stood, legs spread, firm round cheeks together, stone now racing up to just below his hips, and yet from the pressure inside massaging and gently kneading his prostate, some phantom invader had managed to slip up his rear, as another ghostly sensation was on his cock. Lips of some kind, a sensation like warmth and dampness pressing around, a tongue running over, muscles contracting around the vulpine rod. He felt so close, the pressure building.

He groaned, cursed, tried to fight, but soon enough his head was leaning back and he was gasping for air, an expression on his face halfway between ecstasy and terror. Wide eyed, he felt the damn burst, and with one last gasp, he felt himself shooting out a thick white stream of cum, as his body stiffened. His shaft dipped and twitched as more ropes sprayed out, and as he felt his entire body now turning to the same slightly colder sensation the grey areas had, he saw another strange sight. 

Every other statue was spraying out white fluid. Every single one of the male sculptures... the other victims.. were somehow spilling seed from their petrified erections.

As Fox felt his eyes chilling, he saw the crumbling bird releasing strings of thick white fluids, and then the avian statue began cracking, falling apart before his petrifying eyes. He could only stare, eyelids stone as the last colour of his green globes shifted to grey. And yet, he felt a last spurt come from his literal rock hard penis. 

Felt like there was still more to come. He was stone completely and yet aware, awake. Able to see with a slightly darkened tint to his vision. Hear, with a muffled sensation. Feel the wind blowing over his petrified form, that should have ruffled his fur, but the grey strands were motionless. He could even smell, the phantom perfume gone, but now the air seemed full of the ammonia-musk of all the statues that had let loose. He recognised his own scent from nearby, the mess he'd sprayed all over the ruin floors before his permanent location.

His head was filled with many thoughts and emotions now. Horror at having been transformed, at the way it seemed the statue that had presumably been a living avian male had crumbled apart when it... he came, at the fact he was one of dozens or hundreds now trapped. That when someone else arrived, he would ejaculate again as they fell victim to the odd siren-call of these ruins.

But above all, was his arousal. He was trapped in stone, in mid-orgasm. Somehow he knew when another was transformed his spurts would not relieve the maddening and ongoing sensations. A last string of semen plopped down from his damp marble foxhood, the sound registering in his muffled ears as his mind fought between all the fearful thoughts and the overwhelming storm of a seemingly eternal orgasm. So stood Fox McCloud, a statue like the others around him in these odd ruins. Erect, hands held away, his mouth open in a cry of fear or delight, eyes wide in terror or pleasure. Waiting with the others like him. Waiting for the next new arrival....