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Empire of the Ancient Sands

Part 6 - A Carnal Beast

The Chief of Security groused as he stared at the wall of flickering monitors. There were far too many for one man to keep an eye on them all at the same time, but that was fine - they were mostly there so he could immediately get eyes on any given area of the complex if someone called in a possible issue. Theoretically, that ensured that he'd have enough information available to give out orders, even if the report he received was ambiguous. So far, that theory hadn't been tested, and with luck, it never would be.

Still, being paranoid was his job, and tonight he was determined to give the government that employed him their money's worth. He had an uncomfortable number of important people under his care, after all - politicians, moral guardians, a couple of Imams, youth-group leaders... together, they made up the newly-formed Council of Moral Conduct, and their first full meeting was taking place in the building he had been charged with protecting. The formation of a new government organ was rarely greeted with cheers... of late, it had more often been greeted by violent riots, and occasionally by gunfire. Those who opposed the current government would certainly love to see one of their main initiatives fail, and it was up to him to make sure that anyone harboring such thoughts would be disappointed.

To that end, he'd managed to convince the higher-ups to assign him extra manpower. Which meant that for once, he had enough boots on the ground to establish his ideal defensive position, one that he was confident could hold the complex against anything up to and including a sizable military force. Each of the four main approaches to the building were covered by perimeter guards in multi-tiered arrangements that guaranteed overlapping fields of fire and mutual support, while the high walls between them were topped by razor-wire, studded with motion-detectors and laser tripwires, and patrolled by K-9 teams. Finally, the building itself had enough guns inside it to qualify as an unusually opulent pillbox, and his men were deployed throughout it with redundant fallback-points and pre-deployed cover. It was all extremely excessive and unnecessary. Well, PROBABLY. Almost certainly. But just in case someone decided to start a war on his watch, he was ready.

His radio whined and his hand shot out to push the 'receive' button instantly. The ID-code that lid up on the radio's display told him that the call originated with one of the patrolling K-9 units tasked with watching the outer walls. Had the dogs sniffed out something suspicious? "This is Hashim! You there, chief?" The sound-quality was worse than it ought to be - white noise was dancing in the background, irregular, like a murmuring crowd. "Yes, I'm reading you five-by-five. What's the situation?" He carefully kept his voice level. Hashim sounded rather worked-up, and the best way to keep soldiers calm was to make it clear that YOU were calm, and wait for them to follow your example.

"Well, there's a problem with the northern perimeter, chief... specifically, it seems to be missing." The voice did, indeed, sound calmer now... but there was panic hovering right beneath the dry wit, threatening to make it crack. As his eyes darted to the relevant monitors, he could see why. The ENTIRE perimeter-guard was, indeed, missing. A dozen well-trained soldiers, gone... leaving no sign behind save what seemed to be a couple of discarded weapons. No signs of a struggle. No signs of ANYTHING, really. It was as if they'd just gotten bored with their duties and wandered off... which was, of course, ridiculous. "Copy. Remain on location and await further orders." He barked out the command quickly and sharply. There was a time for extruding calm, and a time for making it clear that you were aware of an impending crisis and too busy trying to fix it to put up a front.

His hands danced across the surveillance-desk. Right now, the cameras covering the northern perimeter were only showing him an empty guardhouse, an unguarded checkpoint, and Hashim and his dog standing at the periphery of their field of vision. But whatever had happened, the cameras must have caught it - he just needed to glance back in time. The screens flickered, lines moving down across them like waves on the sea as he rewinded the take from all the relevant cameras at once. As soon as he saw significant movement, he punched the 'play' button and saw what had happened there five minutes earlier.

A woman had appeared out of the darkness beyond the checkpoint and approached the boom. The image-quality wasn't great, and the lighting was bad, but she was clearly extraordinarily good-looking, and the dress of girlish pink she wore seemed to only accentuate her mature, womanly curves. The guards were responding as they should, stepping forwards to ask her for identification and intent... but then, they seemed to pause, their normally stiff and alert stances drooping as if they were suddenly relaxing. Other soldiers approached, presumably trying to find out what was going on, and reacted similarly. The woman continued to walk forwards, and the soldiers were now standing close by her side, the broad smiles and flushed cheeks of their faces barely visible on the small monitors. The soldiers positioned further back were obviously wavering, their rifles shaking - an unchallenged intruder had walked through the checkpoint, and it was thus their duty to open fire. But if they did that now, their comrades - who had suddenly started acting strangely - would be caught in the hail of bullets.

The woman stopped, on the wrong side of the boom, but not so close to the soldiers as to outright threaten them. One of them was fumbling for his radio. The chief already knew that he would not reach it, but he could not imagine why - the woman was clearly unarmed, not even carrying a purse, and her dress hugged her curves too closely to leave any space for a concealed firearm. Apparently, though, she didn't need one either - she simply lifted her hand and blew the soldier a kiss, winking at him with an expression of invitation on her face. The man's hand stopped reaching for the radio and dropped down limply. The rest of the second-tier perimeter followed suit, dropping the weapons they'd been brandishing just moments ago. Then the woman turned on her (rather high) heels, and started walking away from the compound again, pumping her hips outrageously with every step. The men followed her like a pack of lost puppies, abandoning their posts as they disappeared into the darkness beyond the reach of the cameras with her.

Cursing under his breath, the security-chief hit the fast-forward button and waited for the monitors to catch up with the present while he wrestled with the implications of what he'd seen. His men... just walking off the job because some tramp shook her hips at them and blew them a kiss? Unthinkable. Sure, they were red-blooded males, just the same as him, and that WAS one very attractive woman, but abandoning your post in a situation like this meant court-martial, and very likely execution by firing-squad. Those men weren't geniuses by any stretch of imagination, but they weren't dumb enough to walk blithely into THAT for the sake of a night of pleasure. Was it some sort of elaborate set-up? When your own men start to act strangely and stop doing their jobs, in the current political climate, the immediate assumption would have to be betrayal... possibly as part of an outright coup d'etat or armed uprising.

His thoughts froze in place as the images on the flickering monitors solidified again. He'd expected to see Hashim still standing there with his dog. He wasn't. He was lying on the ground in a pool of blood. Fingers numb, he quickly hit the rewind-button again, and this time he only had to go back by half a minute before he spotted a flash of movement and hit 'Play'. Mouth slightly open in shock, he watched as Hashim's dog - a large, well-trained German Shepard - suddenly turned around, jumped up and sunk his fangs into his master's throat. The soldier barely even had time to look surprised, and had no chance whatsoever to defend himself, before the large canine twisted its jaws and ripped out his jugular. Then it bounded off into the darkness, crimson dripping from its lips. And Hashim quietly collapsed on the ground as his life's blood flowed out across his flak-jacket.

Swearing out loud by now, he jabbed the 'All hands' button on the radio. First his men, then his dogs - had everyone gone suddenly insane tonight? "Attention, everyone! This is a CLASS THREE ALERT! We are under attack by unknown assailants. Numbers unknown. Likely covert operatives. Go to full alert, safeties off. K-9 units, secure your dogs. The enemy may be using something that affects their behavior." He felt his pulse drop slightly as confirmations began to pour in from the western, eastern and southern perimeters, as well as the internally-deployed troops... but then his blood ran cold as he realized he hadn't heard a single reply from any of the K-9 units. A single question occurred to him. If HE was some shady BlackOps-type who had a weapon of some kind - maybe sonic, maybe scent-based, maybe whatever - that could turn trained military dogs against their masters, would he deploy it against a single, solitary perimeter guard who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or would he deploy it along the ENTIRE perimeter, taking out several of the enemy's most flexible troops in one move, while simultaneously leaving them with a pack of dangerous, crazed predators roaming INSIDE said perimeter? The answer, in retrospect, seemed obvious.

But even as he reached for the radio again, intending to send out a warning about loose - and presumably bloodthirsty - dogs, it squawked again, words emerging before he could even touch the 'receive' button. That meant that someone had hit the high-priority 'panic-button'. And that was very bed. "---er attack! Repeat, we are UNDER ATTACK... by dogs! There's a million of them, and they're going straight for the throat!" The message was punctuated by the barking sound of assault-rifle fire... and a whole lot of just plain barking sounds. "We're barely holding them off - I think there's more of the bloody mutts than we've got bullets! Please advice, over!" The chief had already noted that the panicked message was coming in from the western perimeter, and his sharp eyes had tracked across the wall of monitors to focus on the ones covering that approach. His heart sank in his chest as his suspicions were confirmed - the four-legged foes attacking the checkpoint weren't the missing guard-dogs, but what looked like every dog in the city of Cairo.

There were all kinds of races, bastards and purebreds alike, charging into the bullets without hesitation, blood in their eyes. Heck, it even looked like there were some wild jackals and other desert-dwelling canines mixed into the pack. From what he could see, two of the soldiers guarding the checkpoint had already fallen, their corpses littering the ground, a bright-red stain spreading from their torn throats. Presumably, they'd been taken by surprise when the first wave hit... and who could blame them? They'd been prepared for anything from violent rioters to a militant strike-force, but 'ALL of the dogs' hadn't really been on their threat-board. At the moment, though, they seemed to be holding off the hounds, scattering the charging packs with concentrated fire, occasionally lobbing a grenade towards the larger concentrations of dogs, preventing them from massing for an unstoppable rush. But for how long?

Nothing in his training had prepared him for this. But he was in charge - he had to do something. Gritting his teeth, he hit the button on the radio. "Copy that, Perimeter West. Reinforcements are on the way. Most likely, the dogs are being manipulated somehow - keep an eye out for anyone who might be responsible, and consider them priority targets." It didn't take long for the voice on the radio to reply. "Reading you loud and clear, Control. We'll keep 'em at bay 'till reinforcements get here. No sign of anyone with two legs so far, though... wait, scratch that... I think I see someone..." Automatically, his eyes focused on the video-feed again. Yeah, something was there, behind the line of baying, howling dogs. Looked like a woman, wearing a tight-fitting black outfit, like a catsuit of some kind. But... she wasn't alone. Someone else was standing next to her, slightly higher and bulkier, dressed all in black.

"What... what kind of monster IS that?!?" The panicked voice coming over the still-open radio beat his own mind to the punch as the odd couple emerged into the light. It was just the one person... and the biggest dog he'd ever seen, jet-black and vicious-looking, with eyes that seemed to glow angry-red in the night. Sure, some breeds of dogs COULD get pretty big, but this one was basically horse-sized... was it some kind of lab-experiment, juiced up with growth-hormones and steroids? If so, the project must've been a resounding success. Grinding his teeth, he pushed the thought aside - it wasn't important right now. His men were waiting for orders. Should he tell them to focus fire on the black-clad woman, who was presumably the one spurring all these dogs into their suicidal charge, or on the giant hound by her side? That thing could probably absorb a number of bullets just through sheer mass alone... and there was no guarantee (and indeed, no reason to believe) that killing the woman would STOP the dogs from going berserk.

Even as he reached that conclusion, however, he could see that it was fairly pointless - the soldiers on the scene were already doing what he was about to advice them to, probably more out of instinctive fear-response from seeing a large, dangerous-looking carnivore than tactical consideration, but the result was the same. Several assault-rifles were trained on the black-coated canine, but between the distance, the darkness and the shakiness of the shooters, it didn't seem like there were a lot of hits... the black dog didn't even flinch. Then, suddenly, it did a lot more than flinch - it dashed forwards at an incredible speed, turning into a black blur as it covered the distance to the checkpoint in the blink of an eye.

Things were moving too fast for him to give any meaningful orders at this point. He could only watch the monitors helplessly, and immediately noticed something his soldiers had most likely missed from their perspective. The huge hound tore into the first line of soldiers, knocking three over with its sheer mass and sending a fourth flying, blood spurting from a gash in his chest, with a swipe of its massive paw... and dashing in right behind it, moving almost as impossibly fast as the beast had, was the black-clad woman. The radio was still open, providing him with a bloody soundtrack to go with the flickering video-screens - and so, he heard the gasping and crackling as the woman used her giant dog's back as a stepping-stone, leaping into the air and then descending with both feet first... directly into the chest of an awestruck soldier, who crumbled to the ground with a collapsed rib-cage.

She moved like a black hurricane, laying about her with fists and feet, and sending trained soldiers flying as if they were cardboard cutouts. On the screen, he saw a soldier off to the side drop a radio and pull his sidearm, clearly hearing the loud thunk as the other end of his audio-link hit the ground. He saw the man draw a bead on the whirling woman from close enough range that he couldn't possible miss... and then he saw a massive set of black jaws close around the soldier's head as the hound closed in from his blind angle. There was a horrible crunching, wrenching, and then spurting noise as the immense beast simple tore the man's head off and chewed it. The remaining soldiers of the outer perimeter fell back in horror, trying to hide in the guardhouse, or simply running away - a good call, perhaps, seeing as the remainder of the canine attackers were taking advantage of the shock and disruption that the night-black pair's charge had wreaked to surge in like a tidal-wave of sharp-toothed death.

Of course, it was exactly this situation that the second perimeter had been waiting for. They had heavier weapons and better cover than the first rank, and the attackers were well within their range now - they had simply held their fire for fear of hitting their allies until that moment. Now, however, their eyes were sharp, they machine-guns were trained on the woman and the monstrous hound by her side... and, of course, they weren't paying any particular attention to their backs. Which made it the perfect moment for a pack of German Shepherds to emerge out of the darkness behind them, trailing limp leads from their collars, each and every one of them already sporting a bloody muzzle from when they had torn their masters apart. The chief saw them emerge into the surveillance-cameras' view just a split second before they jumped on the unprotected backs of the second-perimeter guards. There was no time to even shout a warning, and even if there had been, no way the tightly-wound soldiers could've turned around in time to do anything. Heck, even if they HAD, that would've just left them open to the enemy's main force. It was a perfectly-executed pincer-attack... performed by DOGS.

Struggling to keep his facial muscles under control, the Chief of Security leaned back in his chair and switched off the radio. He didn't need to hear what came next. The western perimeter was gone - he hadn't even had time to call for the promised reinforcements. Now, he needed to stop being confused about the NATURE of the threat, and simple think through the tactical and strategical implications of the attack, so that he could plan his next move effectively. His western perimeter was dead. Why? His NORTHERN perimeter was wide-open, and had been for minutes. A quick glance at the monitors covering that area was enough to confirm that it was STILL completely abandoned - Hashim's rapidly-cooling corpse was the only thing in sight.

If this was a simple incursion - presumably aimed at killing the Council of Moral Conduct - then this made no sense. The attackers would simple have removed his northern perimeter, and then rushed in with a blitzing charge, perhaps using a truck-bomb or something similar to break through his inner defenses before he even knew what was going on. They very likely would've reached the Council, then - he wouldn't have had any chance to react or respond to the thread. 'Lightning warfare' was a well-proven tactic, harking at least as far back as the Golden Horde of the Mongols. But instead, the enemy had quietly removed his northern perimeter, and then noisily destroyed his western one. The possibility that the two events might be unrelated was laughable, and immediately discarded from his mind.

There was only one possible conclusion. The enemy's strategic goal wasn't to DESTROY the Council, but presumably to kidnap, interrogate, or possibly publicly execute them. A swift, one-sided strike couldn't have accomplished that - he would certainly have been able to rally in time to prevent them from escaping with several struggling hostages in tow. Hence, they were aiming to wipe him out altogether, destroying his entire company and thus ensuring that they could leave with their captives, unimpeded. If that was true, then the southern and eastern perimeters would also come under attack shortly.

The entire thought-process had consumed barely thirty seconds, but it had been enough for the canine invaders at the western perimeter to finish their bloody work. The only human left standing there was the mysterious black-clad woman. Most of the hounds were now just milling about, but several were chewing on the fallen soldiers, sending little spikes of primal fear up his spine. He'd faced enemies who wanted to kill him before, but ones that wanted to kill AND eat him? That was new. Fortunately, he didn't have to keep looking - the monitors were going out, one by one, replaced with 'NO SIGNAL' signs. Someone was cutting the cables. Maybe the dogs were chewing through them? How well could this woman control those dogs? Well enough to execute a fairly complex tactical operation, apparently, so it was probably not safe to make any assumptions.

No matter. Now was the time to act, rather than just REact. He flicked a switch on the radio, connecting him to his 'Ready Forces' - two old jeeps with spigot-mounted heavy machine-guns attached to their rear bed, and one far more formidable (and modern) Fahd 280-30 Infantry Fighting Vehicle. Wheedling something like that out of High Command for a simple defensive emplacement hadn't been easy, but he'd managed it by arguing that in case rioters DID come his way, it was far better to be able to simply roll out something heavy and intimidating to convince them to calm down, rather than let his soldiers engage on foot, inflicting potential casualties on both sides.

"Response Force, this is Command, you have orders! Fox-1, Fox-2, head to the southern perimeter immediately and lend fire-support. Expect hostilities shortly. Be aware that enemy attack-dogs are loose on the grounds, and be prepared to counter attempted pincer-maneuvers. Rhino-1, head to the EASTERN perimeter, same orders." He heard the chorus of 'ayes' and nodded. This was the best move. If he'd wanted to take back the western perimeter - as would have been the natural response to the attack - he would've needed to send his rapid response force in that direction along with reinforcements peeled off from the southern perimeter - with his northern perimeter completely gone, there was no choice there. And if the enemy was EXPECTING him to do that, then that meant that they'd probably be deploying fewer forces to the southern perimeter. The main push, thus, would be in the east, so the Fahd could do the most good there.

If he was wrong... then maybe he'd lose the southern perimeter too, but the jeeps were fast on their feet and the drivers were skilled. He'd be able to pull them back before they were overwhelmed. Then he could join them up with the eastern perimeter and crush the offensive there, creating a gap that he could use to evacuate the rest of his forces along with the politicos he was supposed to protect. And there was no way some gimmicky black-ops squad who press-ganged DOGS into service could handle the Fahd. Between the dual-feed 30mm autocannon, coaxial 7.62 PKT heavy machinegun, AT-5 wire-guided anti-tank rockets, and 6 firing-ports for letting the 10-man complement of hardened veterans inside join the festivities... the damn thing could tackle a small battalion of infantry all by itself. Unless the enemy rolled in with a squad of heavy tanks and helicopter gunships, his eastern perimeter was safe... and even if they DID, it would hold for a while.

However, he wasn't even close to done. Another flick of the radio's switch put him through to the forces he'd emplaced in the complex proper. "Attention, all forces! We have lost the northern and western perimeters and are now officially in SIEGE CONDITIONS. Take up you Case Alpha defensive positions, and clear your firing-lines. Assume that anyone and anything not wearing one of our uniforms is an enemy, and shoot to kill. Be aware that the enemy is deploying a large number of attack-dogs, so don't miss four-legged targets either." There was no point in giving them any details about exactly WHAT had happened to the northern and western perimeters - it would only shake them up. The sound of confirmations from his troops was combined with the shattering of glass throughout the building as his forces turned windows into gun-ports and readied themselves for the fight.

Finally, the thing he'd been dreading, and which he probably should've done five minutes ago when he first got notified of the missing northern perimeter. He picked up the phone and called High Command. The sleepy-sounding desk-sergeant who took his call sounded like he'd just had about a gallon of adrenaline injected directly into his ass when he began to bark out his message. "We are in CODE RED conditions! The complex is under heavy attack from an unknown and unidentified foe. Numbers unknown but presumed significant. Northern and western perimeters have fallen, and the remainder are expected to come under attack shortly. Central complex is in Siege Mode. We have NUMEROUS VIP'S on the premises. REQUESTING IMMEDIATE REINFORCEMENTS!"

After the desk-sergeant had assured him that he'd scramble up some forces for him immediately, AND wake up the general, he hung up and leaned back in his chair again, staring at the monitors. He'd done all he could. It would take time for the military to process his request, especially this late in the evening - mostly everyone important would've JUST gone to bed, and would be grouchy about a sudden wakeup-call. But the nearest military base wasn't far away. Assuming they could scramble some fast-moving IFV's, APC's and the like, they could reach his position within 15-20 minutes, depending on the 'Bureaucratic Inertia' factor. If the closest airbase scrambled some choppers, THEY could be there in just 10 minutes. But that likely wouldn't happen. There was no way he could impress the seriousness of the situation well enough on his superiors to motivate such a radical step, without simultaneously sounding like he was drunk, insane, or possibly both.

And so, he simply stared at the monitors. Several showed the completely empty area around the northern perimeter. Were the enemies hoping that he'd be dumb enough to evacuate his charged through that painfully obvious 'gap', once the other two checkpoints came under fire as well? Not bloody likely. He'd served his time in the infantry, and he knew their wisdom. "The easy way is usually mined" was the optimistic version. The realistic one replaced 'usually' with 'always'. There was absolutely no doubt that a powerful ambush - possibly including literal mines - awaited anyone fool enough to take that route. The eastern route was his best bet, assuming his earlier reasoning was correct. If that was to be their main push, it was also where they'd least expect him to be able to break through. Maybe he should go inform the politicians that they might need to cut their meeting short and run for their lives very shortly? Nah. There was no point yet - they'd just panic and start throwing confused orders around, worsening the situation. The room they were using for their very important meeting was - on his insistence - in the center of the complex, with no windows and excellent sound-insulation. They'd have no idea the complex was under attack, and he'd rather keep it that way for as long as possible.

Movement drew his eyes to one of the monitors: The long-distance camera looking forwards from the southern checkpoint. Beyond the range of the spotlights, dark shapes were manifesting out of the shadow. Human-looking ones... so no more dogs, at least. The soldiers had seen 'em too - they were crouching behind cover, rifles ready to fire the moment they could see a clear target. They were obviously nervous, having heard the sound of battle rise from the western perimeter only to grow silent again, but they remained disciplined. They were ready to fight whatever came their way.

That resolve, however, wavered when their opponents emerged into the stark light. Rather than the fatigue-clad soldiers they - and their chief - had expected, they saw something... monstrous. Large, bulky, muscular men, seemingly unarmed, but wearing demonic costumes. Masks covered their faces, resembling goats or sheep, with horns either curly or pointed. The masks reached all the way down across the shoulders, like a ragged carpet of wool. Beneath, naked chests and arms could be seen, showing off the kind of physique that professional bodybuilders dreamed of - bulging, perfectly-sculpted muscles. At the waist, the costumes resumes, once again covering tanned skin with shaggy wool... and that was the point where both the Chief watching over the monitors, and the more perceptive of the soldiers stationed at the checkpoint, felt their brains disengage. The legs... they weren't quite like goat-legs, being far broader and more muscular than what any normal goat would posses. They were, however, angled in the same way - with the knees going the wrong way. No costume or disguise could do that.

Then the front line of the goatmen opened their mouths to emit a braying warcry, and even those who hadn't noticed the impossible knees were curtly informed that they were NOT, in fact, facing a bunch of costumed lunatics, but something far more terrifying. As the hideous creatures dashed forwards, the soldiers opened fire on instinct - and in the safety of his office, watching the silent pantomime on his video-screens, the Chief of Security felt his attachment to reality waver. He watched numerous bullets slam into the naked chests of the charging creatures, and stick there - never even slowing them down. He saw bullets glance off the horned heads of the monsters as if they were wearing steel helmets rather than a coating of shaggy fur.

The coldly analytic, tactically-perceptive portion of his brain, however, was quick to point out to him that however impossible and unnatural, the monstrous attackers weren't invincible. He saw several stumble and fall as numerous bullets ripped through their goat-like legs, and a few others fell with more serious-looking wounds. One toppled backwards, a hand pressed to his right eye as blood spurted from between his fingers. Another crumbled to the ground in a pool of dark-red blood that seemed to be flowing rapidly from his torn throat. And even those who were shrugging off numerous hits to the chest and head were bleeding visibly - if not particularly copiously - from the resulting, shallow wounds. "If it bleeds, we can kill it." A line from an old American movie he remembered watching, many years ago. But true, obviously.

Unfortunately, that didn't mean that they could be killed FAST enough. A handful had fallen, but there were at least a few dozen of the bulky creatures, and they were fast approaching the checkpoint. If they were even half as strong as they were tough, chances were they could crush his soldiers with a single swing of their ham-sized fists. But just as the first group of the bulky creatures were about to reach the firing-line, a ray of hope appeared... to the screaming tune of two chugging DShK Heavy Machineguns. The jeeps he'd sent had arrived, and while their armaments were practically WWII relics, the large-caliber bullets were doing what the earlier bursts of assault-rifle fire hadn't been able to - blowing large, bleeding holes in the attackers.

The goatmen's charge came to a brutal stop as a rapid-fire swarm of 12.7mm projectiles perforated the front-runners. Whatever their chests were made of, it apparently wasn't strong enough to withstand such an assault, and the attack crumbled. Still, the toughness of the large-bodied creatures remained a dangerous factor. Even the powerful machineguns clearly couldn't shoot ALL the way through them, and the crumbling corpses absorbed dozens of bullets each, preventing them from reaching those who were moving up behind them. The attackers quickly took advantage of this, grabbing the bodies of their fallen comrades and holding them up as fleshy shields.

They could not, however, advance very quickly while carrying corpses that were swiftly becoming even heavier with the weight of countless bullets. The offensive had stopped for the moment, and it seemed only a matter of time before it was crushed under the sheer weight of fire being poured into it. But then, the chief noticed something that he suspected his men on the scene hadn't. Behind the ranks of tightly-packed goatmen, a normal-looking woman was standing, surrounded by a handful of even larger specimens - these ones carrying actual weapons, ranging from over-sized axes to old machine-guns that they'd likely have no trouble firing from the hip. She was dressed in a stylish, blue-green dress of coruscating silk, which would have seemed far more at home at a ritzy party for wealthy socialites than on a blood-spattered battlefield. Nonetheless, there was no question that she was commanding the demonic-looking creatures, the same way the black-clad woman had commanded the dogs. And that likely meant that she was far more dangerous than she looked...

From the way she was waving her hand and moving her lips, she was probably shouting commands at her forces. Meaning to follow suit, he reached for the radio, intending to instruct the soldiers to focus fire on the central part of the battle-line and try to get a clear shot at her. His muscles, however, froze as he saw her order go into action. Behind the front lines, dozens of goatmen squatted down... and then leaped into the air with impossible strength, going straight over the heads of their comrades and covering the last bit of space before the checkpoint. They landed heavily amongst the soldiers, and much as he had feared, sent the men flying with swift sweeps of their arms. The well-organized firing-line broke down in seconds.

Once again, the second-perimeter soldiers were hampered by an unwillingness to risk shooting their own comrades in the back, and this time the two heavy machine-guns mounted on the newly-arrived jeeps were in the same situation. It took him five seconds to muster the courage to send them the order to fire regardless. That was five more seconds than he had. With brutal suddenness, enemies appeared on the flanks, rushing towards the jeeps and the entrenched soldiers. There were only a handful on each side, but it was enough. Despite his earlier warnings about the dogs, they hadn't been prepared for a coordinated assault.

Goatmen were on top of the jeeps in moments, easily smashing aside the gunners. When they then tore the spigot-mounted machine-guns loose, wrenching the metal apart with sheer force, the battle was already over. The same guns that had been a ray of hope earlier were now the knell of the funeral-bells for the remaining soldiers, who were left with the choice between being smashed to bits by rampaging monsters, or cut down by a hail of machinegun-fire. The southern perimeter was lost. No doubt, the cameras there would soon start to go out as well. Behind the ranks of the inhuman bruisers, he could see their fancy-dressed commander smiling broadly.

Sweat beaded on his forehead and ran down his face to stain his uniform. This was insane. The men lured away as if by seduction... the army of insane, blood-crazed dogs... and now these... THINGS! The first two, he could've explained away SOMEHOW, but there was no way these near-bulletproof monsters with super-powered goat-legs could be natural. Was he really being besieged by... demons? Had his men in the north been drawn away by the irresistible charm of a succubus? Was the giant, black dog that had torn into the western checkpoint actually a hellhound? Were these mysterious women directing the battle witches, allies of the perverse forces of darkness? He'd never been a devout man. In the current political environment, that was a survival-trait for a soldier - being too attached to Shi'ite or Sunni would easily get you decommissioned or worse the next time the OTHER side was in power. But right now, he was fervently wishing that he'd paid more attention to the Imam when he was a child.

The squealing of his radio pulled him out of the reverie. "---azy, the world's gone CRAZY, I tell you! Crazy bitch with a machinegun is ripping us apart! Chewing straight through our armor! And there's a million cats! And... JESUS CHRIST IT'S A LION, GET IN THE VEHICLE!" Numbly, he turned his attention to the monitors showing the eastern approach. Sure enough, it seemed to be pretty much exactly the same thing that had happened in the west, only with cats instead of dogs. A mass of furry bodies were boiling across the ground, too small and too fast to be effectively targeted. They were obviously no real threat to the armored soldiers manning the approach, but they were certainly serving at an effective distraction - clinging to rifle-barrels and pouncing on heads, blinding the soldiers with their bodies. Preventing anyone from getting a clear shot at the woman marching in the midst of the feline horde.

She was, he reflected with numb amusement, the first enemy he'd seen so far who actually seemed to be dressed for the occasion. She was wearing desert fatigues, covered by what seemed to be one of those terrifyingly-expensive 'Dragon-Skin' vests that some of the American contractors and SpecOps-types he'd encountered had been outfitted with. Her tactical belts were lined with grenades, knives and other tools of the trade - and, of course, she was marching steadily forwards while firing what looked like an old M60 machinegun from the hip. 'Looked like' was an important qualifier in this case, since he knew the venerable weapon well enough to realize that it wouldn't normally be able to turn the concrete barriers his men were hiding behind into dust.

Oh, and there were lions, too. And tigers, from the looks of it. They were moving in from both sides, in much the same way the goatmen had at the southern perimeter, and had probably gotten there in the same way - by jumping over the high, barbed-wire-topped outer wall with ease. Those walls had been designed to stop PEOPLE, after all - not homicidal demons or man-eating lions. It looked like half the squad he'd deployed in the Fahd IFV had exited it in order to provide better fire-support for the front lines, and were now rapidly regretting that decision as the leonine ambush tore into them.

An explosion lit up the screen. That impossible machinegun the woman in the tactical gear was wielding had apparently reached the Fahd's ammo-storage, gleefully ignoring the fact that the vehicle was armored to withstand a direct hit from a tank, and that the ammo-spools had EXTRA-strong armor on them specifically to avoid something like this. The $250.000 military machine was now smoldering rubble, and the demoralized soldiers at the checkpoint itself were caught between the gun-wielding juggernaut and the hungry cats closing in from behind. His tactical moves hadn't made a damn bit of different. He was too heavily outgunned.

The phone rang. He picked it up. It seemed like the natural thing to do. "Yeah?" he asked, his voice sounding dead even in his own ears. "REPORT, SOLDIER!" a familiar voice barked in his ear, snapping him out of his trance and nearly making him jump to his feet in a parade-ground salute. "General! Sir! I'm..." he took a moment to compose his thoughts, then breathed deeply. "The situation is FUBAR, sir. All four perimeters have collapsed. Enemies are on the grounds. My ready-forces have been wiped out." The stuttering sound of assault-rifle fire rang through the building, indicating that the attackers had finally moved within range of the main compound. "My only remaining forces are the central complement. I intend to pull them back into a strictly defensive configuration and play for time. We'll hold them off 'till reinforcements arrive, sir."

He could hear the general sucking in air on the other phone. The vigorous shout from before had petered away into something that sounded almost as tired as himself. "That bad, huh? I'm sorry you had to experience that. Seeing the men under your command... nevermind. Reinforcements are inbound. APC's, IFV's, and as many tanks as I was able to rustle up on such short notice. If things are as bad as you say... I'll go ahead and get the airforce involved too. They can scramble some air-support in time to join the main force on arrival. Any more information on the OpFor?" The energy that the voice of his old commander - and the message of inbound reinforcements - had poured into him began to leak out again, and he bit his lip. "Nothing... clear, sir. No recognizable uniforms. Large numbers, though. I've seen separate commanders on each front, indicating a large, organized group. One of them was wearing Dragon Skin armor, so they're well-funded too. Finally, they seem to be quite fanatical - they keep coming even in the face of heavy fire and severe losses. As for the rest... you'll just have to come and see for yourself."

"I'm planning to, son. I'm already in my command-track and heading your way. Leading safely from behind, of course. Just knuckle down and hang in there - I'll see you soon." The warmth in his mentor's voice was tangible, and this time, he really DID pull himself to his feet and saluted to the empty room. "Yes, sir! We'll be waiting." Then he hung up and pulled his sidearm, gritting his teeth. It didn't matter if it was the hordes of hell themselves that were besieging him. Protecting this building and everyone inside was his job as Chief of Security, and by whatever gods and devils might be listening, he'd do his job 'till the end!

He walked through the building, face set in a calm, confident expression. There was no point in staying in the security-hub anymore. The monitors were going out one by one as the attackers disabled the cameras, and his remaining forces were literally within shouting-distance. Moving around the periphery of the building, he calmed the increasingly nervous soldiers, informing them that heavy reinforcements were inbound, and instructing them to fall back to secondary and tertiary positions when their current locations became untenable.

Through the broken windows, he could finally see in the flesh the horrors he had beheld over the video-links before. Massive shadows skulked in the shadows, cats and dogs darted in and out of sight, deliberately drawing fire, and the gleaming light of an M60's muzzle-flash indicated that the woman from the western perimeter was also joining the fray. "Don't count on cover when you see her - she's packing heavy AP rounds! Get out of the way and return fire! Keep a knife close at hand to deal with anything that tries to get up in your face! The big ones are wearing body-armor, so aim for the limbs!" His orders were half-truths at best, but they straightened the spine of the soldiers under his command, and got them aiming in the right direction. That was the important part.

Pulling a handful of his best soldiers from whatever positions they'd been manning, he fell back to the central meeting-room and opened the broad, expensively-carved double-doors without knocking. A dozen pale, nervous faces greeted him. The sound-insulation on the room was good, but it wasn't THAT good. They'd heard the gunfire in the distance. That made things a bit easier for him. "Move away from the door. We are under attack, and our outer perimeter has already collapsed. Reinforcements ARE inbound, so we only need to hold out for about 10 more minutes." Too scared to argue, they moved around the long meeting-table and backed up against the wall while he started fumbling with one of the panels next to the door.

It took him a second to locate it. Hidden under a sliding panel was the final defense of the room - a simple, bright-red lever secured by emergency-glass. With a quick jab of his handgun's hilt, he broke it and pulled down the lever, triggering the building's 'panic room' mode. A thick, heavy steel shutter slid down from the ceiling, covering the expensive (but fragile) wooden door. He held out no hope that it would stand up to the armor-piercing M60 that had killed his Fahd IFV, but if his first conclusion had been correct - if they specifically needed his charges ALIVE - then they couldn't risk shooting blind like that. The goatmen could probably break it down, but not quickly, and all he needed was time.

The sound of screams and cursing filtered through the insulation, indicating that his men were already buying him that time with their lives. Gritting his teeth, he ordered his squad to tip over the heavy conference-table, creating a makeshift barrier in front of the blocked door. It wasn't much, but it was something, and he moved his troops behind it with their weapons ready and trained on the steel shutter. Just waiting for something horrifying to come bursting through it. He took one last glance over his shoulder at the people he was protecting. Mostly politicians in nice suits. A couple of Imams in their traditional, religious garb. Four women with colorful, silken headscarves - two of them, he recognized as the leaders of a well-known 'Purity Movement', while the two others were unfamiliar.

Then he turned to face the door again, and worked the slide on his handgun. It wasn't much, but if the reinforcements didn't get there in time... he'd at least go down fighting. The minutes ticked by with slug-like slowness as they waited there, the sounds of battle outside first intensifying, and then dying out altogether. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, a loud, crackling crash rang the steel shutters like a bell. He could hear the wooden door outside splintering under the force of the impact, but the steel held. The shutters rang with impacts again and again - in his mind, he saw the goatlike bruisers from the southern perimeter throwing their massive bodies against it, one after the other.

He could vaguely hear the politicians screaming in fear behind him, shrieking as the panic set in. Not unexpected. He filtered it out and kept his eyes and his gun trained on the door, waiting for it to begin deforming under the force thrown at it any second now. Then, he felt a short, sharp pain in his right leg, right above his boot-line, and instinctively glanced down. There, clinging to his boot with blood gleaming on its stinger, was a tiny, bright-green scorpion. An icy sensation was running up his leg, and he stumbled to a crouch while brushing the deadly critter off with a swipe of his gun. Shouts of surprise and consternation could be heard from the men around him, and he looked around to see them stumbling back with various venomous creatures clinging to their legs. Mostly scorpions - the tiny, deadly sorts - but some big, hairy tarantulas too.

He craned his neck to look back. There were more of them - a lot more. They were boiling forth from an air-vent while the civilians bunched in the most remote corner they could find, emitting little panicked noises and - in some cases - throwing up. Ah. So THAT'S what they'd been screaming about. It was another pincer-attack, and he'd ignored it. Feeling his body growing heavy, his lungs suddenly laboring to draw in enough air, he let his head swing back to the front and saw a strange sight. A couple of rather large, hefty scorpions were dashing past him and his men, ignoring them entirely. Instead, they climbed up the wall next to the door, cutting long gashes in the expensive wood paneling with their sharp, chitinous legs.

Reaching the lever he'd pulled to activate the shutter, they grabbed it together and kept crawling, pulling the well-oiled mechanism up with them. As it clicked into place at the top, the shutter began to vibrate and, with a metallic shriek, retreated up into the ceiling. Behind it, amidst the rubble of the door, a deadly-pale woman was standing - wearing a jet-black corset, poofy black skirt and thigh-high black leather boots, all accented in emerald green. She was staring down at him with a smile that showed off a pair of pointy fangs, and spoke with a slight accent. "Ahh... you're the boss, aren't you? Naughty boy, you... making me come and get you instead of just accepting my invitation at the northern exit. You've caused a lot of grief for my sisters, too. Killed a bunch of their pets. But it hardly matters now, does it? You're already dead... and those cute little moral guardians behind you? They're ours, now. A sacrifice at the dawn of a new era..."

Those were the last words he heard before the blackness claimed him.

The captives were quiet, pale and entirely cooperative as they were unceremoniously shipped through the desert in the back of a covered truck. Whatever fight there may once have been in them had been completely leeched out before they'd even left the compound where they'd been captured. Seeing what they were up against - demonic, goat-headed man-beasts, packs of cats and dogs, swarms of venomous critters, and the strange women who seemed to be controlling it all - had made several of them pass out from shock and terror. The rest weren't far from that stage either - hugging their knees, looking around with haunted eyes, shuddering and flinching at the least sound.

The monsters, animals and crazed women weren't around anymore - they had peeled off by the time the truck left the city behind and started creaking its way across the roadless expanses of the open desert. It was just the Very Important Prisoners, and a handful of armed men escorting them. None of the captives had any idea how to deal with their new situation - the majority were minor politicians, undersecretaries of this or that, used to making speeches or ordering underlings around. The two religious scholars - an Imam and a Mufti - were both praying under their breath, with more fervor and devotion than they had been able to muster since the fiery days of youth when they first began their schooling. The four women in the group - two of whom were politicians, while the other pair headed the 'Women's Purity League' - were the worst off, having all collapsed during their initial capture and been dragged and thrown into the truck. Even once they recovered from their fainting-spell, they remained largely catatonic, trying to make themselves as small and unnoticeable as they could while staring emptily into space.

The trip, fortunately, was a relatively short one - it took them only around 12 hours to reach their goal, and they could've gotten there a lot faster if they'd dared to use the actual roads rather than sticking to the wilderness. There was no doubt, however, that the military would be out in force, looking for the missing VIP's... and revenge for their fallen brothers who'd been killed while guarding the complex. The five High Priestesses - already commonly referred to as 'The Queens of the Desert' by the lesser followers of the Order - had been thorough, and the garrison had been wiped out to a man. The only survivors were the men from the northern perimeter, lured away by the irresistible charms of the High Priestess of Hathor... and after a no-doubt enjoyable night, they'd been left to face the reality that returning to the military would see them court-martialed and almost certainly executed. With that as an alternatives, the group had - to a man - decided to convert and become Followers of Hathor. As dilemmas went, 'Sex or Death' was one of the easier ones to resolve.

Regardless, the truck and its contents were still managing to stay ahead of their pursuers by the time it rumbled to a halt near an old, partially-flooded temple by the shores of the Nile, a ways south of Cairo. Unlike most of the Sealed Sites, the Order hadn't had to excavate this one - or, for that matter, trick anyone else into doing it for them. The regular flooding of the Nile had prevented any significant amount of sand from accumulating on top of it, and the broken pillars of its upper structure had been poking out of the mud for centuries. That very same proximity to the great river, however, had prevented anyone from exploring it past the first obsidian 'cork'. The destructive treasure-hunters of past times had judged it 'not worth the trouble' on account of having to dig through tons of mud to even start drilling through the heavy barrier, while modern-day archaeologists refused to break the seal without first having ensured that whatever contents lay behind it wouldn't be destroyed at the next flooding - requiring the expensive construction of a permanent dike around the entrance. Considering the uncertain value of what laid behind it, none of the scholars who had expressed an interest in the project had managed to gather the funding, and thus the ruin laid untouched to this day.

The Order, however, had a couple of advantages. They knew exactly what was inside, and wanted it badly... but they only needed to have access to it for a day's time, just to complete the ritual and awaken the slumbering god. As such, the mud and water was currently being held at bay with a quickly-constructed wall of sandbags, and the first obsidian blockade had already crumbled before the power-tools of the Order's excavators. The second block would soon follow. Normally they would've used dynamite to get it out of the way faster, but knowing that a major manhunt would be underway soon, they had eschewed it so as not to attract any untoward attention to the site.

The pale, shaky prisoners were roughly pushed out of the truck and into the mud, which rapidly seeped into and ruined their very expensive shoes. The area around the tomb's entrance was a frenzy of activity, with several large cables leading into the darkness and the grinding sound of metal tearing through rock emerging from within. Everywhere else, nervous-looking workmen were packing their gear into two waiting trucks, while several of them waited impatiently around the portable generators that were powering the tools now working within the tomb, ready to pack them up the moment they were no longer needed. Only one person in the entire chaotic mess looked calm and collected - a woman, dressed in a simple, traditional Egyptian dress of white cotton, sitting on the stump of a broken pillar near the tomb entrance.

Some women were pretty. Some were beautiful. Some pushed past that into 'gorgeous'. This woman, however, had left all those descriptions far behind in favor of more lurid terms. 'Sexy' was about the kindest one could call her. 'Erotic', perhaps, if one was feeling overly fancy. 'Slutty', while unkind, would certainly be more accurate, however. The simple dress was straining to contain her burgeoning curves, with the fabric looking about ready to burst around her hips, chest and butt. Her lips were full and curvy, drawn up with an eye-catching, gleaming-red color, and the rest of her makeup followed suit, throwing concepts such as 'subtlety' and 'subdued charm' to the winds in favor of the outrageous and exaggerated. Impossibly-long lashes, purple eye-shadow and flushed cheeks, all framing a pair of deep brown 'bedroom eyes' that seemed to suck in any man who looked into them with promises of forbidden pleasures.

Her eyes were not alone in telling that story, either. At the peak of her huge, bulbous breasts, large, thick rings could be seen, outlined against the tautly-stretched fabric. Back-tattoos were peeking up over the top of her dress, and patches of black were vaguely visible through the white cotton elsewhere as well. The dark roots of her long, slightly-curled blond hair showed that it had been carefully bleached. Her tongue, pierced by a dumbbell stud, was running across her lips as she gazed thoughtfully at the new arrivals. The top of her left ear was lined by small, silvery rings, while the right had just one decoration dangling from its lobe... an erect phallus with testicles included, carved from some sort of shiny black material, perhaps jet. All in all, she couldn't have extruded more sex if she'd just walked out of a porn-studio's front door. In fact, a couple of the men in the group had an uncomfortable feeling that they might perhaps have seen her before... in certain videos they kept very carefully private.

The politicians stood awkwardly in the mud, twitching and looking at everything and nothing, for several minutes - carefully avoiding meeting the bodacious woman's eyes. She, meanwhile, continued to look them over with heated eyes, focusing particularly on the four women - all of whom were doing their best to hide behind their male colleagues. Finally the tension was broken as the racket emerging from the tomb stopped, and seconds later a handful of burly men carrying jackhammers and other heavy gear jogged out of it. One of them paused in front of the woman and tipped his bright-orange safety-helmet at her. "The second seal is broken, Lady Hatshepsut. Watch your step in there, though - there's a lot of debris scattered around the place. The last of the lads are putting down a rope-ladder right now - we're good to go."

The woman - Hatshepsut - nodded and ran her hand seductively over the man's sweat-stained face. "Nicely done..." she purred. "When all this is over, make sure you and your boys come around. I'll reward you properly..." The workman blushed and smiled nervously, stroking his thick mustache once or twice as if to straighten it, then blinked a few times and nodded quickly before dashing towards the waiting trucks with his jackhammer in tow, his face returning to its serious cast. Hatshepsut, meanwhile, sauntered over to the clustered-together politicians, and gestured towards the tomb's opening. "All right, my dears - time for you to get going. It's that way. Behave, and you may still come out of this alive. You're all sensible, intelligent, thoroughly-cowed adults, right? There's no need for me to dramatically wave a gun in your faces to get you moving. The hunky fellows behind you does a splendid job of THAT, and once we're down in the tunnel, the only way out is past them - so I don't think you're going to do anything stupidly suicidal, hmm?"

The assembled politicos nervously nodded, and started marching towards the dark mouth of the tomb. While several of them peered at the armed guards behind them out the corner of their eyes, flinching slightly whenever one of them moved, Hatshepsut blew the men a kiss that seemed to make THEM flinch slightly, before following the captives towards the tomb. A pair of workmen emerged from the darkness just before they reached it, bearing heavy hammers, and on Hatshepsut's orders, they handed over their powerful pocket flashlights to the first couple of prisoners. "You guys can use them to light our way - watch your step, m'kay? It would be really inconvenient if you fell down a hole and broke your necks after we went to all that trouble to capture y'all alive." Meanwhile, she herself took a more primitive tack - picking up a simple torch made from a branch with an oil-soaked rag wrapped around the tip from near where she'd been sitting, and setting it on fire with a lighter proffered by a nearby workman.

Thus, with the sharp beams of the flashlights up front and the dancing shadows of the burning torch at the rear, they proceeded into the dust-choked darkness. The smell of warm stone was thick as they carefully stepped over the rubble of the first seal - several feet of solid obsidian, now reduced to scattered chunks. The harshly-sloping floor soon made pains spring to life in the ankles of the politicians, few of whom had bothered to keep in shape since taking public office. Of course, it would soon get worse, as they reached the remnants of the second seal - this one had not even been completely destroyed, but had simply had a passage carved through the middle, requiring the unwilling guests to walk single-file... to find a single rope-ladder dangling down from a fearsome precipice on the other side.

The trip down was harrying for the captives, but Hatshepsut swung her way down the ladder with a torch in one hand and no apparent trouble - displaying admirable athleticism for a woman with her high center of gravity. She also had a far easier time walking down the somewhat steep incline as they continued deeper into the ground - but that might have been simply due to her bare (if muddy) feet having better grip than the slick, expensive shoes of the politicians, or the decorative sandals of the women. Still, despite some occasional stumbling and wincing due to sore ankles, the motley group made it to the bottom of the passage soon enough, still confused, disoriented, and with no idea what was going on.

When they entered the chamber at the end of the tunnel, however, some of the smarter ones began to get an inkling. It was a large room, clearly some kind of ancient temple. A five-sided dais filled most of the room, with tall obelisks covered by hieroglyphs marking the corners. The two religious scholars in the group redoubled their prayers as they saw the statue in the center of the dais - a muscular brute with the head of a crocodile and a long scepter clasped in his right hand, sitting on a granite throne. Most of the others recognized the depicted creature as well - they were all educated people, after all, and Sobek, God of the Nile, was hardly an obscure figure in the ancient, heathen religion of their ancestors. It was certainly the most lifelike statue of him they had ever seen, however - the hungry smirk on his long, tooth-filled mouth and the lusty glint in his eyes were uncomfortably well-rendered, amply signaling the sinful nature of this old god. A being of primal impulses and chaotic nature, embodying gluttony and lust.

While they all shrank away from the statue, discomforted by its very presence and the reminder of their ancestors' sinful past, Hatshepsut eagerly approached the foremost of the obelisks and started running her free hand over its surface while whistling merrily. Soon, she found what she was looking for, and while shivering with expectation, she reached into her ample cleavage and fished out a small, dark-blue piece of ancient Egyptian glass, colored using methods since forgotten, and exquisitely carved into the shape of a crocodile's head. With a gentle push, she slotted it into a blank spot on the obelisk, and it sank into place with a barely-audible click. A blue light began to spread from it, covering the obelisk... then darting along the edge of the dais to reach the others, spreading its faint illumination even as Hatshepsut discarded her torch on the ground and stepped towards the throne.

It was an odd light - a deep, dark blue, reminiscent of the deepest waters where the current was slow. It seemed to carry flickering shadows with it, making the eyes automatically scan the walls for signs of lurking predators. Despite these oddities, however, it illuminated the tomb well enough to give the assembled politicians a hell of a show, and possibly some borderline heart-attacks. Once she was up on the dais, Hatshepsut rapidly stripped out of her white dress with the practices movements of someone who'd done so many times before, with many different articles of clothing, under a wide variety of conditions. And what this act revealed made her earlier display of raw, oozing sexuality look positively subtle by comparison.

First, as she rolled down the top of the dress, two things previously hinted at became clear. Her nipple-piercings weren't actually rings at all, but heavy, U-shaped hitches - not designed for decoration in the slightest, but for attaching stuff. The nipple themselves were large, thick, fully-erect and quite long - indicating that they'd been stretched and pulled through long exposure to weights or the like. The other thing, meanwhile, was on her back - the tattoos that had only barely peeked above the edge of the dress now stood starkly clear. A pair of stylized paw-prints, encased in horseshoes... suggesting a variety of unsavory things based simply on their location on her upper back.

When the rest of the dress fell to the ground and she stepped out of it, naked but for her heavy makeup and numerous piercings, it only got worse - and she made sure to make a few twirls, just so her rapt audience could see the full package. Her pussy - which was visibly wet, glistening in the blue light - was lined with rings, tracing the line of both her outer labia. Her clit was sticking fully out of its hood - a situation that seemed like it had to be semi-permanent, since the sensitive nub was pierced by yet another U-shaped hitch, preventing it from retreating. It, too, was unnaturally large, suggesting serious amounts of abuse over long periods of time.

The tattoos were what really tied it together, though. Right above her clean-shaven pussy, a purple arrow pointed down - with "Cum Inside - All Are Welcome" written inside it. When she turned around again, a similar sign showed up above her ass-crack - this one was done in the style of a yield-sign, with the text "Exit Only" canceled out by a thick line, and "All-Access" written above in a graffiti-style. The most notable feature, however, was the thick, red text reading "Whip It Good" stamped on her left butt-cheek... which a closer look revealed to be no tattoo at all, but rather a brand. Dark lines and mostly-faded scars lined both buttocks and upper thighs, indicating that the suggestion had been frequently and vigorously obeyed. Between the battered buns, her sphincter winked at the stunned onlookers - far from a tiny brown star, it was swollen and bulgy, surrounded by a large area of discolored, rubbery-looking skin. All signs that it had been previously stretched to extreme proportions, likely for extended periods at a time.

Yet, somehow, it got worse as she once again turned around to flash her tits at the stunned watchers, grinning naughtily. Her flat belly was inscribed with 'CUM STORAGE' in large block letters, and curving along the underside of her large, silicon-filled breasts were the words 'Meat' and 'Toilet', one on each tit. Between them, an arrow pointed up through her cleavage with a smaller 'W.C.' written on it. Even in their current, terrifying circumstances, the moral guardians had enough energy left to be shocked and horrified by the sight of her hypersexualized body and the perverse implications of many of her decorations - they gasped and shook their heads, averting their eyes, some of them even retching a bit as nausea rose in their throats.

They soon had worse to worry about, though. The blue light had spread through all five of the obelisks by now, and their pointy tips were glowing with a dull luminescence that seemed reminiscent of a blacklight. Beams of the same sort of paradoxically dark light shot out from each of the glowing tips, colliding at the crown of the statue... and instantly, the floor of the tomb began to tremble, pebbles raining from the ceiling, while thick cracks formed on the surface of the stone figure. Hatshepsut threw herself to her knees before the statue, lowering her face to the ground in a way that seemed more inviting than humble what with the way her naked - and obscenely-decorated - ass continued to sway slightly in the air. Seconds later, a roar echoed through the chamber, and the being on the throne rose, sending a shower of stone fragments ricocheting off the nearby walls.

The towering giant was an even more awe-inspiring sight now that he wasn't concealed beneath the dusty layer of stone. His reddish-brown skin was tautly-stretched over a massive body that seemed to thrum with energy, his shape reminiscent of wrestlers and professional strongmen - muscles bulging beneath a healthy layer of fat, strength designed for use, not for showing off. His shoulders were broad, as they needed to be to carry the tree-trunk thick arms beneath, and the fists at the ends of each were larger than the heads of anyone else present. HIS head, of course, was that of a crocodile - long and narrow, covered in gleaming, emerald scales... and lined with vicious, flesh-rending fangs. The small, beady eyes hiding beneath the thick, scaly ridge of his brow were gleaming with bottomless appetite and desire - the gaze that now swept across the room was one that did not know restraint or self-denial.

As he looked down, he saw Hatshepsut kneeling before him and chuckled. Already, a bulge was appearing in the front of the simple cloth wrap that covered his lower body - half of it pure cotton-white, the other half gleaming golden - and a long, gnarled tongue emerged from his half-open maw to caress the row of fangs that lined it. "Ahhh... awake at last... and breakfast is already served, eh? Excellent!" His voice was rough, and seemed to be rumbling up from somewhere deep inside his barrel-chested torso. His eyes then focused on the gaggle of politicians and other VIP's clustered near the exit - several of whom had already fainted at the sight of him. "And what is this? A snack-table? Seems a bit sparse..."

"A sacrifice for you, mighty Sobek." Hatshepsut's voice rang out clear and loud, enunciating the words of the ancient language of Egypt with ease. Few who knew her realized that, far from the image of the 'dumb bimbo' she projected, she had a keen mind and excellent retention. She'd picked up the language, as well as the various rituals and knowledge of the Order, with ease. Convenient, since it had left her with more time to seduce various other members, or help the group's animal-trainers 'exercise' their beasts. This mastery, however, did not stop her from quailing slightly when Sobek fixed her with an annoyed- seeming gaze.

"A handful of petty fools - for me? That is less a sacrifice and more an insult. Explain yourself, mortal!" Her body shook slightly under the weight of his anger - an almost physical force that seemed to radiate out from his massive body in waves. Her voice, however, remained unshaken. "They are self-appointed moral guardians. Bureaucrats and puritans and priests of a foreign god, brought together to pass laws and level restrictions against what they call 'amoral behavior'. They crusade against sexuality and excess... and thus spit on your name with every breath they take." These words failed to dull the anger of the god... but it certainly redirected it. His glare was now solidly fixed on the rumbled-looking VIP's, and as the waves of anger rolled over them, several crumbled to the floor, their legs giving out under them.

A couple, however, panicked instead. With high-pitched screams, three of the men broke away from the group and dashed for the exit, fear giving them wings despite their exhaustion. With a scoff, Sobek raised one of his immense hands and swept it sideways in a backhanded slap. Several yards away, the three runners were suddenly lifted off their feet and sent tumbling through the chamber, producing a succession of fleshy smacks as they collided with the wall. Then he clapped his hands, once, sharply, sending a booming sound echoing through the room. Seconds later, a scratching, cracking sound could be heard from the floor. Four squares of obsidian were set into it, one in each corner, easily missed in the dim light - each marked with a sigil: A crocodile sitting on an altar. This hieroglyph meant only one thing - 'Sobek'.

Each obsidian square buckled and cracked, then shattered, the fragments raining into the darkness below with splashing and gurgling noises. Beneath, shafts filled with dark waters were revealed - and crawling from them were crocodiles large enough to give even the burliest Australian pause. The Nile Crocodile was a fearsome beast at the best of times - the largest specimens could reach 20 feet in length and weigh in at 2000 pounds. A heavily-armored aquatic killing-machine, the apex-predator of its ecosystem and - along with its close cousin, the Saltwater Crocodile - the largest and most deadly reptiles seen on Earth since the days of the dinosaurs. The SMALLEST of the crocodiles now emerging from the dark waters were marginally larger than that. The biggest one seemed like he could've been an extra from Jurassic Park, being roughly the size of a family car - though, considering his long, sleek frame, perhaps the expensive sports-car the father of said family would buy once he hit his mid-life crisis, would be a better comparison.

Several of the crocodiles dashed across the floor to cover the exit - they were faster on land than most people gave them credit for - while those that had emerged closest to the terrified politicians encircled them completely, sealing them in a wall of armored hide and gnashing fangs. The three who had already tried to run lay crumbled at the foot of the wall they had hit when Sobek corrected them, likewise surrounded by large, hungry-looking reptiles. Apparently satisfied that his 'guests' would not be escaping, Sobek then sat back down on his granite throne and looked thoughtfully down at Hatshepsut's naked form. "Hmph. A worthy sacrifice then, I suppose. And you? Are you part of the sacrifice given to me? The markings that cover your body are... unfamiliar to me."

Hatshepsut daringly raised her head to flash one of her trademark 'come hitherfuck me' looks up at him, grinning naughtily. "Oh, I'm here to offer myself to you, all right. I'm really hoping that you'll fuck me instead of eating me, though. I've never tried to screw a god, but I definitely want to try it. Ah, and I'd also like to be your God-Wife. Being exclusive isn't really my thing, generally, but if anyone can keep up with me, it'd have to be you..." Learning to 'talk dirty' in ancient Egyptian had been a challenge, even for her, since most of the surviving writings in that language were dry, official stuff that couched any reference to sexuality in flowery, poetic language. But fortunately, the adherents of Sobek had been less worried about language, enabling her to pick up a few useful phrases from the antiquated records the Order possessed.

Sobek looked stunned for a couple of seconds, blinking his sunken eyes twice. Then he laughed raucously, tilting his head towards the ceiling as his maw opened wide. "You want to be my God-Wife, do you? You've certainly got a mouth on you, mortal..." Lowering his face again, he reached down and put a sausage-sized finger underneath her chin, tilting her head further up. She smoothly followed the movement, lifting her upped body with it and staring challengingly into the eyes of the god before her. "Tell me then, mortal woman... are you a virgin still? Have you kept yourself pure for me?" Hatshepsut laughed, every bit as lustily as Sobek had. "Not hardly! I have given myself freely to every man, woman and beast who crossed my path, since I was old enough to learn what sex even is. I have long-since lost count of the number of men I've slept with, but it is in the hundreds at the very least. Add in the animals, and I'm probably pushing the big one-thousand."

The long, reptilian snout parted in a fang-filled grin. "Hah! A woman after my own heart, indeed. Only fools deny themselves the pleasures of life." The finger under her chin disappeared, and she took that as a signal to stand up fully. She could feel his eyes following the curves of her body - a familiar sensation - and linger on her tattoos. "You want to know what the 'markings' on my skin means, hmm?" She moved sensuously before him, thrusting her hips forwards to draw the eye towards the arrow tattooed above her pussy... and, of course, the drooling slit beneath it, with the juice-dripping labia dangling like meaty curtains, heavy with rings. "They are signs - messages - to any who lay eyes on me. This one tells them that they can fuck my pussy whenever they like..." Her fingers swept across the smooth skin of her lower abdomen. "And this one invites them to fill my belly with their semen." The hand continued up, moving across the thick letters of the tattoo on her stomach.

She arched her back to give Sobek - who was watching her with rapt attention - a better view. Using both hands, she pulled her heavy, artificially-enlarged breasts up and apart to show off the writing on their underside. "These state that my mouth is a toilet, ever-ready to devour sperm and piss alike, in whatever quantities I can get." Then she nimbly spun around and bent at the waist to thrust her rear out at him. "The writings above my crack make it clear that, far from being merely a route of excretion, my ass is available for the pleasure of any who desire it. The brand below, meanwhile, invite them to slap, whip, spank or otherwise redden my buttocks while they avail themselves of that offer." Finally, she straightened up again, pulling her arms forwards to stretch out the skin on her upper back. "As for the marks on my shoulders... I think you can read THEIR meaning all by yourself, hmm?"

A massive pair of hands closed around her waist, and her feet left the floor as she was lifted into the air. "I do believe I can..." whispered Sobek hoarsely, his long snout right next to her ear. "And if nothing else, I think 'testing your worth' will be a great deal of fun..." With that, he dropped her in his lap, wedged between his stomach and the huge rod that had sprouted from his loins. The cloth that had covered the area before had already vanished, and Hatshepsut found herself marveling at what it had revealed. Around his hips and groins, the tanned skin gave way to smooth, slick scales of verdant green, their edges rough against her buttocks. Between his legs, the scales parted to let a pink column rise - the reptilian cock of the lusty crocodile-god, Sobek.

She was fascinated by the sight of it, as always when she laid eyes on a new kind of dick. She was familiar with what crocodiles generally packed - a fairly straightforward, if somewhat veiny, shaft, terminating in an oddly-shaped head that somewhat resembled a tiny, three-fingered hand; two lumps at the bottom flanking the urethra, and a 'tip' above, arching over it. She'd expected Sobek to be the same, just larger... and she'd been right on the last bit, at least. The column of meat before her rivaled a full-sized draft-horse stallion for sheer mass - a comparison she had excellent basis for making. The head, however, was far more pronounced than normal - the 'lumps' at the base of the head were broad and fleshy, creating a significant ridge, while the tip was shorter, stubbier, broader, and sturdier-looking. The urethra, meanwhile, poked out between them by a millimeter or two, like the end of a tube - a quality that reminded her of equines just as much as the size. More intriguing than this, however, was the bulge near the bottom of the shaft - drawing obvious parallels to the canine knot.

While she drooled at the anticipation of what it would feel like inside her, Sobek looked over her head at the surrounded, terrified and - in a couple of cases - half-dead 'sacrifices'. "Hrmh. Better create the right kind of ambiance before I get too caught-up in this..." he mumbled to himself. His eyes pierced the small group with inhuman sharpness, as he noted the nature of each of them. He was not the type to speculate deeply about the exact composition of each of their crimes, or try to pass judgment on each individual. He only had two possible punishments available for them, and one single quality used to decide who got which. Smirking, he lifted a hand, palm open in their direction, and closed it.

With a rumbling roar, the surrounding crocodiles - his Totemic Beasts - stopped being guards and started being predators. The politicians barely had time to react as immense jaws closed around them, shredding flesh, spilling blood, tearing limbs from limbs and crushing bones. A feeding-frenzy lasting mere seconds reduced a dozen human beings to scattered lumps of meat - which the crocodiles settled down around to devour at their leisure. Only four had survived the massacre - the women, all of whom were catatonic with fear by now. They were clinging to each other with panicked strength, eyes wide and pupils shrunken, their headscarves and clothes spattered with blood and gore.

Then Sobek turned his fist around, his knuckled towards them, and pulled it back. A rush of energy surged through the chamber, like a string connecting his fist to their bodies. As one, they tumbled forwards, making strangled, confused noises. Their minds, already blanked by terror and disbelief, shuddered... and began to change. Instincts rose and roared, shouldering logic and sense aside with little resistance. An overriding desire spread through the empty vaults of their minds, pushing aside the paralyzing fear. Around them, the crocodiles lifted their huge heads, hunger gleaming in their eyes, sensing that a different sort of meal was being prepared for them. One by one, the four women pushed themselves up on their hands and knees and looked around at the surrounding beasts with feverish eyes. Then they started ripping at their clothes, tearing heavy skirts and modest shirts off and away, leaving them pooled around their hands and feet. There were no thoughts in their minds, no justifications or rationalizations. What possessed them was no mere biological assault - it went far beyond what drugs and pheromones could hope to accomplish. The raw power of Sobek's mind had overwhelmed their wills, replacing them with the very thing he stood for - raw, all-consuming lust.

The women eagerly spread their legs as the crocodiles, hissing with lust, surged forwards. Between their short but stout legs, pale-pink tools had emerged, slipping out of their scaly sheaths to seek new containment. In terms of shape, they were no different from ordinary crocodiles - but they had been scaled up along with the creatures themselves. Which was not to say that their size was overwhelming or impossible for a human to handle - relative to their size, crocodiles weren't really all that well-equipped, and these ones were no exception. The smallest of the scaly critters, despite weighing in at well over 2000 pounds, wasn't any bigger in the dick-department than a reasonably well-hung man. Their bigger brethren pushed that into 'scarily well-equipped porn-star', and past that to 'smallish pony-stallion'. The biggest of the lot - the one with the bulk of a mid-sized car - was hung like a horse... a mid-sized, average sort of horse. So still quite a bit smaller than Sobek himself.

None of the women, however, seemed overly concerned about exact sizes. They just shook their asses in the air, making wordless little mewls of lust, ignoring the gore that surrounded them. Lines of slick pussy-juice were already decorating the thighs of each woman, the labia above swollen and receptive. Their nipples were rock-hard and sensitive as they rubbed against the stone floor. Their bodies could not be more ready... and the crocodiles weren't about to ignore such a blatant invitation. Heavy, scaly bodies surged over them, flattening each women against the floor with their bulk, while arched, pink members quested between their legs for an available orifice. It didn't take them long to find some.

Four voices shrieked in inhuman, animalistic pleasure as long, thick croco-cocks pushed past their labia and filled their pussies. The crocodiles that had jumped them had been some of the smaller - and thus swifter - specimens, though they were still plenty big enough to leave the women helplessly trapped beneath their crushing mass as they began to thrust. Two of the women had been virgins, saving themselves for a marriage that now would never come. The other two had never had any partners besides their husbands - neither of which were particularly well-equipped. Their tight, little-used pussies now wrapped themselves eagerly around the thick, hot intruders - and in their present, hyper-aroused state, they had no trouble accommodating them.

Sobek grinned and nodded. That was just the thing he needed. The sound of rutting beasts in the background. Then, with a grunt, he looked down in surprise. Hatshepsut apparently hadn't been able to wait for him to finish his manipulations and set the scene - she'd decided to start without him. Carefully balancing on his thighs, she'd positioned herself directly above his skywards-pointing cock and slipped the index-finger of each hand through the lines of rings following the edge of her labia, using them to pull the flesh folds apart. The pink hole between them was pulsing hungrily as she guided her body down on top of the strangely-shaped cockhead, eager to swallow it up. With a chuckle, Sobek leaned back in his throne, propping his head up with one arm as he decided to let her take the lead for a bit - curious to see how far she'd get.

The fleshy edge of his cockhead pushed into her well-lubricated pussy with little trouble, despite its girth. A hissing moan emerged from between her clenched teeth as she felt the ridge rub across her insides, and without delay, she let her legs collapse underneath her. Her body thumped down, leaving her resting on her knees - and driving roughly a foot worth of thick cock into her pussy in one swift stroke. Sobek grunted and shuddered as he felt her pussy hug the smooth shaft tightly, marveling at the ease with which she'd absorbed half of his huge tool. And still her legs were spreading, her groin sinking lower as her knees skidded sideways across his thighs. Inch after inch slid into the hot, tight, slippery tunnel. She was low enough now that, rather than use her hands to part her labia (which was hardly necessary anymore), she was leaning forwards to stabilize herself against his knees. Her eyes were nearly closed, and her mouth hung slightly open as she breathed in short busts, moving her hips in sharp jerks, pushing herself lower.

Sobek grunted in surprise when her labia brushed the top of the knot-like bulge at the bottom of his shaft. She'd already taken more of his tool than he'd thought likely, but surely she couldn't keep going any further. He was well familiar with the biological limitations of an unenhanced human body, having taken (and occasionally broken) his share of priestesses in his time. And while he could feel that several of his peers had awakened already - including Khnum, who did excellent work at biological modifications - he did not sense their touch on this woman. Thus, he was immensely surprised when his cockhead - as broad as a man's fist - reached her cervix... and pushed through it with little resistance.

As the tip of his cock thudded home deep inside her womb, she sank the last few inches into a full split, pushing the thick knot at the base of his shaft past her labia. Sensing the tightness and heat around it, it immediately began to swell, expanding its girth enough to make her pelvic bone creak - which effectively sealed it in place, despite the loose, well-fucked conditions of her pussy. Wide-eyed, Sobek looked down at the impossible sight - his cock, completely hidden, buried right to the very base in an ordinary mortal woman. He could feel her all around him - every square inch of her pussy and womb, stretched tautly around his sheer size with nothing to spare.

A startling realization occurred to him as she continued to move around him, pushing her hips back and forth, making his cock shift inside her, making little mewling sounds of pleasure. His knot had formed a tight seal beyond her labia, and would not shrink 'till he'd reached his climax. However, with her womb stretched around his cockhead in order to accommodate that depths of penetration, there was nowhere for his cum to go. If he came like this, the pressure would rupture the girl. Was she too absorbed in her desires to realize that? Or simply too horny to care? Either way, that was some serious points in his book.

With a grunt, he reached down a hand to encircle her waist once more. She was pliable beneath his touch, instantly falling into the rhythm he set as he moved her back, up, forwards, down. There was little room for thrusting, with his knot held nearly stationary by her bone-structure, but there was just barely enough give for an inch or so of motion - which was plenty to make her moan, considering how much sheer mass was involved. While he guided her, however, his fingers were rubbing little circles on her flat belly, letting his power seep inside. He didn't have Khnum's subtle touch or artistic skill, but experience alone at taught him a few tricks for keeping his mortal lovers from expiring under his attentions. Even as he worked, however, he let his mind seep into hers, using the close connection of their bodies. Normally, he would've waited a bit longer for this stage of the initiation, but what the heck - he was terribly curious about the source of her bottomless desires, not to mention the impossible capacity of her pussy.

Stretched wider than ever before in her life, Hatshepsut found herself reminiscing. It was like that song, she reflected... 'Like a Virgin'. It felt like her first time. Well, the knot helped there, too - after all, she'd lost her virginity to the family dog at the tender age of eight, when early-onset puberty had filled her with desires she barely understood but had no will to resist. In fact, it had been several years before she'd found her first HUMAN lover, but she'd hardly been deprived 'till then. After her first (accidental) experience, she'd found herself bending over for King - her dog - on a daily basis, and when it became clear that he wasn't always in the mood, she soon found a solution.

Even at that age, she'd realized that her discovery - the pleasure King gave her - was something she had to keep secret. This, fortunately, was easy. She'd grown up without a mother, and her father was a workaholic, who'd left her largely to fend for herself once she was old enough that he could save some money by dismissing the nanny. He was, however, somewhat guilty about his absence, and tended to give in quickly to any halfway-reasonable request his precocious daughter made. Hence, when she told him that she had great fun playing with King when he wasn't at home, and really wished she had even MORE doggies to play with, he happily let her pick out just the dogs she wanted. That her preference ran more in the direction of the 'big and ferocious' than 'cute puppies' didn't concern him overly - in fact, knowing that she was surrounded by large dogs at home just made him worry less about her safety.

Of course, unbeknownst to him, she spend more time underneath them than around them. By the time she had four dogs of various races to pick from, she could feel reasonably certain that at least one of them would be up for 'playing' every day. Her preteen pussy wrapped easily around the canine members, the tightness enabling them to reliably tie with her as they filled her underdeveloped womb with their hot cum. The dogs varied in size depending on their race - King, a German Shepherd, was the smallest, which was quite fortunate since her first time would've been a lot more painful otherwise.

Of the other three - an English Mastiff, a Doberman Pinscher and a Siberian Husky - the Mastiff had by far the largest tool. She'd been quite intimidated the first time she saw it erect, but the sight had also lit a familiar fire in her loins, and she'd soon bent over for him anyway. His girth had been painful,and his knot had been agonizing - but nonetheless, she'd cum. Repeatedly. This was where she learned that pain and pleasure were not opposites, nor mutually exclusive, but actually went rather well together - like ice-cream and chocolate sauce. Nor was this the only lesson she learned from her canine harem.

The sight of their candy-apple-red cocks, and the way they often licked them after they were done fucking her, led her to discovering oral sex. When she first started sucking on them, she found the flavor less than pleasant - but noticing that a bit of sucking and licking beforehand got them all worked up for a stronger, rougher ride (and tended to put a bigger load of doggy-cum in her belly), while licking them clean afterwards made them more willing to go for a second round, she kept it up... and soon, she found herself acquiring a taste for both cock, and the residue of her own pussy. Needless to say, it didn't take long for her to accidentally go a bit too far on the pre-fuck work-up, and get a mouthful of cum for her troubles. She swallowed it instinctively, and felt the hot, slimy goop settle into her stomach like a bowl of warm porridge. The slightly bitter, nut-like taste wasn't half bad either, she decided... and soon her mouth saw almost as much action as her pussy.

It wasn't a one-way road, though. The dogs were happy to lash their long, soft tongues over her delicate - if well-worn - pussy whenever she presented it to them, and she particularly enjoyed it in the aftermath of a long session with the Mastiff or the nearly-as-large Husky, since those tended to leave her a bit sore. She also found use for that soreness-relief when the Doberman - who was only marginally larger than the by-then fully-grown King - rather suddenly introduced her to anal sex. He'd mounted her immediately after the significantly larger Mastiff had finished up, and found it difficult to knot - resulting in slipping out and seeking a tighter orifice elsewhere. The pain was intense as her virgin sphincter was stretched open by first his cock and then his knot, but as his furious humping sent shockwaves down through her recently vacated pussy, she once again found herself reaching repeated orgasms through the pain. Needless to say, she made no effort to bar the dogs from further anal explorations.

Several years passed like this. She'd wake up in the morning to find her father already gone to work, have a quickie with one or two of the dogs, head to school (where she got decent grades despite often forgetting to do her homework), rebuff a few requests to 'hang out' after school, and then head home. The rest of the day would then be spent with a doggie-cock buried in one or more of her available orifices, broken up only by meals and the occasional bit of television - usually while the dog-walker her father had hired took her pets away for a while. She knew when her father was due to return, and while he was often late, he was never early - ensuring that she never had to worry about getting caught out by an inconveniently-timed knotting.

By the time she was twelve, her early puberty had mostly run its course, leaving her with hips and breasts that could easily make someone mistake her for a far older girl. That was also when she first had sex with a human - though not a man. She'd noticed sometimes that when the dog-walker - a tall, raven-haired girl with subtle, wiry curves hiding underneath her baggy clothes - returned her harem from walkies, their dicks would have a subtle aftertaste she recognized from post-coital cock-cleanings... the taste of pussy. And sometimes a darker, nastier flavor that made her curious. Driven by this curiosity, she tried sampling the cock of one of her lovers after he'd finished pounding her asshole - an act she'd previously decided to eschew for being 'nasty'... and discovered two things. Firstly, it HAD indeed been the flavor of fresh ass she'd noticed on the cocks before. And second, while not exactly a delightful taste, the sheer taboo of what she was doing made her feel all kinds of hot and bothered. Her reluctance to clean ass-residue off of the canine cocks evaporated immediately - but it took her a few more days to work up the courage to seduce the dog-walker.

Well, 'seduce' might have been the wrong word. When the girl returned from yet another daily walk, she rather insistently invited her inside. Once the door was safely shut behind them, she confronted the girl with what she'd tasted - backed up by one of the dogs eagerly sticking his cold nose up her skirt to sniff at the goods behind. The girl quickly broke down and confessed, having clearly suspected that something was going on based on the willingness, enthusiasm and skill with which those particular four dogs had always mounted her. As it turned out, she'd started working as a dog-walker primarily to feed her perverse desire for canine cock. Needless to say, the two girls got on splendidly despite the age-gap...

At first, it was just a matter of inviting the older girl inside so that they could have fun with the dogs together, in a warm, reasonably private environment. Hearing the dark-haired girl shyly admit that so far, she'd let the dogs fuck her in an isolated, bush-covered corner of a nearby park, or in a secluded back-alley behind an abandoned building, made her feel aroused - and she contemplated trying something like that herself just for variety's sake. But she had more immediate concerns, namely drawing the other girl into a lesbian relationship despite her own young age. A few probing questions revealed to her that her new best friend had lost her virginity to date-rape, courtesy of an older boy at a party, and had since lost interest in men altogether. A few casual suggestions that just because MEN were bastards (and dogs were loyal), she didn't necessarily need to reject all HUMANS, laid the groundwork - and from there, she just let things build gradually.

First, she waited until they were both on their hands and knees (with a rutting dog merrily pounding away at their respective pussies), facing each other - and took advantage of the hormone-soaked atmosphere to draw the other girl into a hot, intense kiss. Once that barrier had been broken, it was child's play to convince the girl to let her show her what she'd learned about pussy-licking from her dogs. Soon, their canine pleasure-time was regularly bracketed by various lesbian games, serving as both foreplay and ease-down. Hatshepsut particularly enjoyed sucking fresh doggie-cum out of her friend's pussy, or blowing one of the dogs and then sharing the resulting, hot load with the other girl in a sloppy, cream-filled makeout-session. The other girl, meanwhile, taught her about masturbation - a practice she'd been previously ignorant of, having effectively skipped that stage in her sexual maturation.

However, spending any real time with another girl for the first time since her sexual awakening also made her aware of other things - namely, that she was different, above and beyond her willingness to fuck dogs. After all, her new friend did that too... but she also tired of it after a while. Two, maybe three rides from the eager hounds, and she was ready to roll over, satisfied, and maybe ease down with some light licking and fingering, complaining of a sore, oversensitive pussy and/or ass. Hatshepsut, meanwhile, just thought of the gradual increase in sensitivity her genitals experienced over the course of an average day as being part of the fun... and she was never, ever satisfied. No matter how many times she came, from the bright-red cocks of her canine harem, or the fingers and tongue of her new lovers, it was never enough. She always wanted more.

Her curiosity about this difference finally pushed her to do something she'd been MEANING to do for years, but had continuously put off due to the ever-present distraction offered by her canine lovers: She cracked the 'child-safe' content-filter on the family PC, and started doing some serious research. Soon, she was able to self-diagnose as a nymphomaniac - her condition being, apparently, referred to as 'hypersexuality' in medical circles. And once she'd managed to click her way past uncountable links promising pictures, videos and contact-information for 'real nymphos', she was able to determine that despite the apparent marketability a nymphomaniac enjoyed, the condition was viewed as a mental illness. Treatments included therapy and medical anaphrodisiacs - chemicals designed to dull or shut down the brain's pleasure-centers, defusing sexual urges. Oh, and apparently, she was also a genuine masochist, her addled brain somehow confusing pain-signals for pleasure-signals. A somewhat common combination, from what she could read.

Having reach this conclusion, she found herself wavering for a time. If she was really suffering from a mental condition - her mind somehow wired wrong, leading to unnatural, uncontrollable sexual desires - then she should tell her father and, through him, seek treatment and medication. But... she was enjoying herself SO MUCH. The constant sex, with the dogs or her new, similarly-interested (if less durable) friend was all that occupied her days. Before King had first introduced her to the pleasures of the flesh - albeit by accident, jumping on her back while she was looking for a pair of shoes underneath her bed, while still naked after a shower - her days had been dull, boring things. Watching TV or playing childish 'edutainment'-games on the computer... occasionally going on 'play-dates' with her classmates. Why did she have to give up the vivid, mind-bending pleasure of her new sex-life?

Ultimately, it was the very source of this discovery that made up her mind for her. With newly unrestricted access to the internet, her research led to any number of side-tracks, opening new doors to her. Kinks, sexual variants and creative perversions that she'd never thought of before were laid bare before her, bringing with them an overwhelming desire to try anything and everything she could get away with. The idea of giving all that up - of never even trying all those things - was more than she could endure. And so, she resolved to keep her supposed 'condition' a secret, continuing to indulge herself on a daily basis... albeit with much more variety.

Ass-licking came first. She'd already enjoyed sucking cum from her female partner's pussy after a doggy-ride, so it was a short step from there to doing the same after an anal session - prompting the other girl to jolt in surprise, and then moan despite herself, shuddering as she felt the younger girl's face dig in between her buttocks. Her reaction afterwards, however, boiled down to "That was kinda' hot but also kinda' gross, so I dunno", which convinced Hatshepsut to keep her experimentation private from then on. Starting, of course, with trying her new ass-teasing approach on the dogs, digging her tongue into their tightly-clenched buttholes without reluctance - after all, she was already used to the taste of ass from regularly cleaning their cocks after they'd pounded hers. She found that it was an effective way to get 'em worked up, bringing them back to full erection after an orgasm faster than normal... instantly turning it into a regular part of her daily games.

Next came the so-called 'watersports'. She started by sampling her own piss - first just by coating her fingers, then by peeing into a glass - and found the taste to be bitter and acidic, but not altogether unpleasant. It didn't really turn her on, however... but she just figured that it came down to the same thing that made it impossible to tickle oneself. Thus, the next stage in the experiment involved telling her new friend not to show up for dogwalking the next day, because she'd be away visiting some family, and taking the dogs with her. Of course, the truth was different. She walked the dogs herself that day, but with a twist... specifically, several twisted rubber-bands, wrapped around the base of their cocks, allowing them to relieve their bowels but not their bladders. By the time she got home - hoping that nobody had paid any particular attention to a young girl walking four heavily-erect dogs - they were all ready to burst.

With a carefully-laid plastic sheet beneath her, she was thus ready to try the real thing. All the dogs had been thoroughly housebroken, of course, but with their bladders hard as stone, that didn't matter much - as soon as she cut the elastic-band holding King's urethra closed, a thick stream of yellow urine blasted from the tip of his bright-red cock, and she quickly got in its way. The hot liquid splashed across her well-developed chest and got in her face, stinging in her eyes and clinging to her hair, before she managed to direct the stream into her wide-open mouth. The smell was all-consuming, washing away everything else, even as the taste - far stronger than her own urine - washed over her taste-buds. Almost subconsciously, she let the fingers of her free hand - the one that wasn't guiding the spurting cock before her - slip down between her legs to push into her sopping-wet pussy. She masturbated as she swallowed, mouthful after mouthful, and shuddered in a slowly-building orgasm as the taste and scent of the dog-piss soaked into her body. Then she did it three more times, emptying out her pets' bladders one by one. Her belly felt full and warm by the time she was done, and sloshed delightfully when she subsequently let all the dogs have their way with her.

While the experience proved delightful, the clean-up afterwards was bothersome - disposing of the urine-splashed plastic sheet alone was a royal pain - and she knew she couldn't keep claiming family visits. So, in the name of efficiency, she decided to combine her newfound interest with something else she'd been meaning to try, and instead told the dog-walker that she didn't need to come around on Fridays - she'd decided to walk the dogs herself on those days, to 'deepen her bond' with them. Of course, her father would keep paying for the full seven-days-a-week package, so it was a rather good deal for the girl - and thus met no particular protests, though there were a few suspicious glances involved.

From then on, Fridays were a special treat for her. She'd take the dogs through their normal route, then lead them to a suitably secluded and isolated - but still technically public - spot, remove all her clothes (which tended to boil down to a light dress, socks, and shoes - she didn't wear underwear at all most days) and stash them in a plastic bag. Then, at her prompting, the four eager dogs would relieve themselves on and in her, filling her stomach (and occasionally her asshole, if she could get one of them to mount her before he started) with their piss, splashing her skin and hair with the rank fluid. Then, still dripping with their scent-markings, she'd let them fuck her, relishing the feeling of danger associated with their location. A rubble-strewn room in an abandoned building, behind a dumpster in a secluded alleyway, or even on the rooftop of a condemned high-rise... somehow, the location just added a certain something to the perverse pleasure of what she knew, by now, to be a literally forbidden act. Better yet, afterwards she had to walk home before she could shower - smelling like a kennel all the way, knowing that anyone who noticed would be too polite to say anything, and probably assume that it was coming from the dogs, anyway.

However, even as her internet research opened her eyes to new amusements, it also sparked a growing annoyance in her. If nothing else, the many comments of those who dwelled in the darkest, murkiest corners of the internet proved that her childish impulse to hide her new-found hobby had been spot on. She could tell that even if she was of legal age, and even if her amusements didn't involve the forbidden act of bestiality, her eager interest in sexuality would have left her ostracized anyway. Slut, tramp, whore, bimbo... the vicious words flowed easily, most likely from men who then turned around to happily masturbate to the very acts they denigrated.

It wasn't as if the internet was her only source for such attitudes. She was, by then, increasingly eager to finally try a MAN... or at least a boy. She'd tried to get close to some of her male classmates, but it never got father than an awkward, uncertain kiss... which he immediately told everyone about, causing her female classmates (who were already jealous about her mature curves) to instantly brand her a slut and whisper constantly behind her back. What they'd do if they knew what she was REALLY up to in her everyday life, she had no idea. Explode from sheer indignation, perhaps. Thus, she continued to keep her activities to her dogs, and her older, female friend, who presumably knew how to keep a secret.

Still, as months went by, what had once been spine-tinglingly perverse became gradually routine. Tongue the dog's ass before you let it fuck you, one two, clean his cock and lick his balls when he's done, three four, sixty-nine with a girl six years your senior, five six, drink four bladderfuls of hot piss before getting gang-banged in a public place, seven eight. There were other paths of perversion she still had not trod, of course, but she was coming up against the limits of what she could do without a willing (and intelligent) partner... and the dog-walker was still proving to be depressingly hard to drag into any kinks other than the dog-fucking bit. Exacerbating this growing hum-drum was the fact that her dogs were starting to get up there in the years - particularly King, her first lover, who was a couple of years older than the rest. They weren't about to keel over anytime soon, but they were noticeably slowing down, and losing some of the voracious sexual appetites she'd manage to instill in them. She had to spend more and more time 'fluffing' them - teasing their assholes, ballsacks and sheaths with her tongue and fingers to get them going - and thus less actually getting fucked.

Despite the growing frustration, however, she carried on, seeing no better path available. If she started propositioning boys, her secret would get out, and she'd get bullied and harassed... and her father would probably force her into treatment. Held back by this fear, the status quo was retained until, when she was fourteen, it was decisively broken. That was when her father dropped dead from a stress-induced heart-attack. She cried at his funeral, because she knew it was expected of her, but she found it difficult to truly grieve. She felt like she'd barely known him - the only time she'd seen him was, occasionally and briefly, during the week-ends... and in the later years, that had only been a source of annoyance for her, since it forced her to back off on her usual activities.

Afterwards, however, she found plenty to grieve for. Being a minor, she was shuffled off to a relative - an uncle, on her father's side, whom she'd never met. A fairly unassuming guy with a fairly unassuming wife, a boring job at a local factory, and no children. And also, no room for pets. Her canine harem were shuffled off to a kennel somewhere, and in moving, she lost contact with her lesbian lover. Being denied her usual pleasures, she was about to go insane at first - barely managing to keep her equilibrium through frequent, furious and carefully-concealed masturbation... but then, shortly after moving into the small house shared by her uncle and aunt, she noticed the way her uncle looked at her when he didn't think anyone was watching. Hungrily. The same way her dogs had looked at her while their candy-apple red cocks swung heavily beneath their hindquarters.

She started to push him a bit. Arranging for him to walk in on her naked in the bath. Doing gymnastic exercises in the living-room, showing off her still-growing tits and ass through tight clothes while he was trying to watch TV. Letting him catch her masturbating in her room. Walking in on him peeing in the bathroom, and putting on a carefully-engineered face of surprise, shock and arousal while licking her lips. Finally, a night where his wife was off with her knitting-group, he drank himself some courage and stumbled into her bedroom, barely managing to pull off his pants before collapsing into her still child-sized bed, making it squeak.

That night, she was with a MAN for the first time - a fact she told him afterwards, conveniently leaving out her past experiences with women and dogs. That first, drunken tryst was far beneath her usual standards, but in her sex-deprived state, it was still enough to get her off as his thick, straight cock - so different from the pointy, bulgy tools of her previous lovers - plowed inexpertly into her pussy, finding its mark easily between her eagerly-spread legs. But more importantly, it was her foot in the door. Once she told him that she'd loved it, and that she wouldn't tell anyone... as long as he kept helping her 'ease the pressure', he caved immediately. Thus. she'd recruited a tractable and reasonably well-equipped lover, who soon proved to be quite a bit more skilled with his tool when sober.

Her aunt soon found herself encouraged to take up various activities that got her out of the house on a regular basis, including occasional tickets to weekend spa-retreats, vouchers for lengthy beautification-treatments, and eager approval whenever she mentioned maybe visiting her mother for a spell. She just figured that her husband was eager to make her feel loved, and that her new stepdaughter wanted to get in her good graces, so she simply went along with it. Naturally, she could not know that her husband was using her absence to indulge in ever-more perverted games with their adopted daughter.

She started by bringing her uncle up to speed with her old hobbies - introducing him to anal sex (which his wife had never been willing to try), and subsequently proving her willingness to go ass-to-mouth. Convincing him to piss in her mouth and let her lick his asshole took less convincing than she'd feared, too - and while his pee lacked some of the raw, nose-tingling impact of the dog-piss she was used to, it was still a pleasant diversion... and of course, a tongue in his ass got him hard as a rock and raring to go, just as it had with the dogs. He, meanwhile, put together some subtle hints and concluded that his newly-minted daughter was an insatiable, perverted sex-freak. Considering how much color she had brought to his previously dull and monotonous life (particularly his sex-life), however, he was not about to blame her for that.

Instead, he played into it. He started to refer to her as 'my naughty little girl' when they were alone, and she countered by sweetly calling him 'daddy'. When he threatened to 'punish' her for some of her more risky behavior - such as sneaking him a quick blowjob in the garage while his wife was home - she just flashed him a sweet smile and told him that maybe that was the only way she'd learn. He could hardly refuse such a challenge, so the next time they were alone, he pulled her naked over his knee and applied his broad leather belt to her bare buttocks. To his surprise, rather than crying as the thick strap reddened her ass and thighs, she moaned in pleasure... and eventually came, wetting his knees with her juices, without either one of them ever touching her pussy.

And so, as she continued to ambush him regularly - seemingly taking particular joy in pursuing him into the bathroom whenever he needed to piss, declaring "I'm thirsty, daddy... give me some of your lemonade..." in a whisper before wrapping her sweet lips around his shaft and looking expectantly up at him with her deep, brown eyes - he stepped up the punishments, hoping to find one that would actually serve as a deterrent. Applying clothespins to her nipples and full, heavy breasts - and later her labia and clit - and then fucking her ass as roughly as he could, only made her cum harder. Tying her down to the bed, on her back with a foot attached to each bedpost, and then laying into her unprotected pussy with the belt just made her cum REPEATEDLY. His punishments were no match for her masochism, and meanwhile her constant teasing forced him to seek more and more excuses to be alone with her - such as driving her downtown 'for icecream' every other evening, just to get in a quick backseat fuck on the way. He was starting to become seriously worried about his wife catching on, which combined with lack of sleep (from often sneaking into her bedroom for a biting-the-pillow quickie) to leave him stressed-out and tired. Somehow, however, in some perverse way, that little minx NEVER failed to get an erection out of him.

Hatshepsut, meanwhile, was having a splendid time... for a few months. Her uncle was a competent enough lover, and thanks to his cooperation, she'd managed to explore several new kinks and fetishes. But he was still just one man, and despite his best efforts, he couldn't get the two of them alone nearly often enough for her tastes. However, seducing him had taught her something useful... men didn't kiss and tell if they were petrified at the thought of YOU telling anyone. Her relationship with her stepdad would've been illegal regardless of her age, but her youth made it doubly so... and indeed, anyone significantly older than her would be committing statutory rape if they slept with her. With that in mind, she once again prowled through the internet, this time with something else in her sights... namely, online maps of 'registered sex-offenders'.

She found several in the area, then carefully researched and vetted them. This one preferred boys... pass. This one only went after girls below 8 years of age... no good. Once the chaff had been sorted out, however, she still had a trio of prospects - men who had been convicted and sentenced for sleeping with (or propositioning) teenage girls. All were (unsurprisingly) living alone. From there, it was simply a matter of telling her adopted parents that she was 'off to study with a friend', leaving her 'daddy' some much-needed time to relax and recuperate as she sought out, cornered, and seduced the men. Well, 'seduction' was, perhaps, once again, the wrong word. All she really had to do was offer herself to them, say that she just really loved older men, and reminding the more skittish ones that, hey, she could claim that they'd tried to rape her whether they actually did so or not, and the cops would most likely believe her.

With one fell swoop, she'd acquired three more lovers, none of whom were likely to tattle, and all of whom had new kinks to teach her and help her experience. She rotated between them, dropping in on at least one of them every day - usually on her way home from school - for a quickie if nothing else. When she had more time, she'd convince them to tell her about some of their darker, more secret kinks and perversions... and then surprise them by letting them play them out. Spitting in her open mouth while fucking her missionary-style, then watching her swallow it. Licked his feet, particularly the sour soles, or his sweaty armpits. Licking the toilet-seat and kissing the inside of the toilet-bowl while he screwed her doggy-style. The first two heaped these and more humiliations on her, and were stirred to even greater feats of fucking when she played along. She, meanwhile, enjoyed them all - not so much because of the act itself, but because it was something new and fresh.

The third of the men, however, proved to be a bonafide sadist, and with him she had to put down an extra rule - 'no permanent marks'. She also made sure to remind him that there were people who knew where she'd gone - if not exactly what she was DOING there - ensuring that his door would be the first the police knocked on if she 'disappeared'. But despite her misgivings about the predatory gleam in his eyes, she went along with his games - curious to test the limits of her own masochistic tendencies, in a way her 'daddy' and his simplistic punishments never could. Certainly, she got that particular desire sated - her partner in pain was as creative as he was eager, and put her through a wide variety of torments, always being careful to keep to the letter of her rules.

Whippings, spankings, canings, paddlings and the like were all standard fare with him - invariably focused on her ass and thighs, her bouncing breasts, and/or her sensitive pussy. The marks these treatments left certainly weren't permanent - and 'daddy' tended to just mistake them for marks of his own making if he spotted them before they faded. Various clamps were also applied, with both greater strength and nastier surfaces than the simple clothespins she'd become familiar with - generally metallic, and with saw-toothed edges so they'd inflict extra pain when they shifted from the weights attached to them. She almost always had a couple attached to her nipples while being otherwise 'punished', and sometimes to her tender clit too, if he was feeling particularly cruel. Chained weights dangled from them, pulling at her most sensitive bits, as she stood bent at the waist with her legs spread, receiving repeated strikes from the day's selected instrument of suffering.

Another regular accessory was the sensory deprivation hood - a full-covering leather hood that only left her hair emerging from the top in a ponytail, shutting out all light and sound with thick, insulated pads, and filling her mouth with a jaw-stretching ball-gag. She'd been initially reluctant to wear it, since it made it impossible for her to end a session early by safeword, but her obsession with trying new things soon overwhelmed her worries. And once she'd agreed to try it once, she never refused it again - being completely blind, deaf and helpless, with no idea about what sort of torture would come her way next, from what angle or for how long, made everything so much sharper, so much better. Turning off her main senses also made her more sensitive to pain and pleasure - two rather interchangeable concepts for her - which was, of course, the point.

Thus, with chains, ropes and the hood - along with her partner's willingness to pour all his disposable income into new 'toys' for their regular play-sessions - she was introduced to many new and interesting sensation, each one coming as a complete surprise the first time... which usually meant whole heaps of bone-rattling orgasms. Electro-torture, for example - the painful current made her shiver when a pair of alligator-clamps were attached to her nipples, and cum repeatedly when a thick, metallic dildo was pushed up her pussy - and the other end of the electric circuit attached to her clit via another clamp. He left it like that for what felt like hours, fucking her ass eagerly while she convulsed in the most painful climaxes of her life.

He was also the first one to introduce her to urethra-play... or 'sounding', if one wanted to be medical about it. She'd had a vague, passing familiarity with the concept from her research, but it hadn't prepared her for the sensation of having a long, cool, carefully-lubricated rod shoved into her peehole and gradually pushed all the way through to her bladder, stirring the piss inside. Once her initial 'pisshole cherry' had been taken, and she'd failed to protest, he soon broadened the field - pushing rods covered with bumps and ridges inside, stimulating her in ways she'd never thought possible - and often leaving them there to shift and rub her urethra as he did other things to her. He also gradually stepped up the sizes, sometimes spending an hour just pushing ever-so-slightly-thicker rods up into her bladder while she groaned through the gag, helplessly tied up with her legs spreadeagled. It paid off in the end when he managed to shove a tiny vibrator - a little, finger-sized one - up inside the tight hole. The vibrations seemed to spread in waves all the way up through her pelvis, urging countless orgasms from her body as he left it there - on full, of course - while doling out agonizing punishment on the rest of her body.

There were many other things, of course. Sharp needles shoved into her tits, perforating her nipples in several direction, or even punched straight through her clitoral hood to the hypersensitive nub beneath. Hot wax applied to various parts of her body, including being tied upside-down with a large, burning candle shoved down her ass, slowly leaking wax down over her privates. Ice-cubes and freezer-fresh metallic dildos that stuck to her skin - often applied in conjunction with the hot wax. Pinwheels. Huge dildos designed to painfully stretch open her pussy and ass... and, when they proved insufficient for the task, his man-sized fists. Though it all, though she often screamed into the gag and left tear-stains on the inside of the hood, she never complained - and never failed to leave his house without several fresh orgasms buzzing in her belly. Despite his best efforts, he'd failed to find the limits of her masochistic tendencies.

As she bounced between her four lovers - 'daddy' and his half-hearted punishments, so easy to tease and manipulate, the two pedophiles who loved to humiliate her in new and inventive ways, and the sadist who could never get enough of torturing her - time passed. She was uncomfortably aware of this, knowing that the current arrangement had a definite expiration-date. And sure enough, as she approached her 'Sweet Sixteen' birthday, she noticed the ardor of her three forcibly-recruited lovers beginning to diminish, despite her best efforts to fulfill all of their most perverse desires. The same quality that had led her to recruiting them in the first place was driving them away from her now - namely, their fondness for young meat. Her body could easily pass for an 18-year-old, or even older... a fact not lost on them, despite being aware of her legal age.

Realizing that she was about to lose her harem once again, she decided to go out with a bang - and, after telling her parents that she'd be having a sleepover at a friend's house, and probably staying there for most of the next day (it being a Saturday), she introduced her three outside lovers to each other. None of them had known beforehand that he wasn't the only man she'd forcibly seduced - she'd seen no reason to tell them - and despite being quite familiar with her appetites at this point, they still could not help but marvel at the sheer sexual stamina their numbers implied. Once they'd gotten over their shock, she curtly informed them that their association was about to come to an end - after one more tryst. Previously, she'd stayed with them for a few hours at most - the sadist, in particular, had always been given a strict time-limit to their games. Tonight, she declared, she'd be all their for the next 24 hours. They could do whatever they wanted to her as long as they observed the 'no permanent marks' rule.

Strategically, she'd called them together in the home of the sadist, knowing that he had by far the most extensive 'toy-collection'. This, of course, also gave him a psychological 'home-field advantage', enabling him to direct the events that followed in broad strokes. The next 24 hours were thus a whirlwind of pleasure and pain, involving more orgasms than she could hope to count, and leaving her - for perhaps the first time ever - sexually exhausted and satisfied. She spent the entire time wearing a blindfold and a ring-gag, the sensory-deprivation hood left off in order to ensure that she could hear and obey orders. Clamps and weights dangled from nipples and clit whenever they weren't in the way of something else, and were often pulled off brutally when this was the case.

In truth, she could not remember many details from that session. It all blurred together. Her pussy and ass were occupied almost constantly, if not by a cock or a fist, then by a dildo or a plug. Her mouth, likewise, was constantly put to work - the men drank loads of weak beer and soda to stay hydrated for the lengthy, sweaty fuck-sessions, and when their bladders started to ache, they never bothered to hit the bathroom - after all, she was, like, right there. When she wasn't playing the role of the thirsty toilet, her tongue was instead busy cleaning ball-sweat off a hairy sack, or rimming a foul-smelling asshole - a duty that became more and more disgusting as the night went on, and the men got sweatier. And, of course, she got to suck lots of cock, adding loads of hot cum to the lake of piss in her belly.

Of course, the men - being middle-aged at best - has some very real limits to their virility, so when their dicks went soft and uncooperative despite her best efforts, they had to find other ways to amuse themselves with her helpless body. Unsurprisingly, it was usually the sadist who took over at that point while the other two rested, and he spent most of that time working his way through what seemed to be a full-sized sounding-set - gradually stretching her urethra open further than ever before, and invariably leaving the hard and increasingly thick metal rods lodged inside her when the men roused themselves for the next round. However, even he was not tireless, and when none of the three men had any energy to expend on her, they just left her where she lay - tied down to the bed or dangling from her arms by the ceiling, with several vibrators stuffed up her various orifices and left on - while they napped for a few hours.

Near the end of the session, during mid-morning of the next day - at a point when she was thoroughly dazed and exhausted - the sadist finally reached the goal he had, presumably, been working towards since he first started stretching her peehole. One final, thick, smooth metal rod was pulled out of the aching, overstretched hole, and replaced with something hot and fleshy. His dick had never been particularly spectacular - perhaps that was why he'd gone so far to reach that point, or perhaps he just figured that it was the most painful orifice he could possibly fuck. Either way, he moaned in delight when he finally managed to push his thin but rock-hard cock through her urethra and into her bladder.

The other two men, despite pretty much running on empty at that point, were roused by that sight - unwilling to pass up a chance to try something so bizarre, they managed to psyche themselves up to hardness again, ensuring that she spent the last few hours of the torturous session getting bladder-banged pretty much nonstop, while her more conventional (and by now rather loose) holes were left stuffed with toys and vibrators. When her ravaged urethra started gulping out a pale-yellow mix of cum and piss between visitors, they collected it in a glass and fed it back to her, pouring it into her forcibly-opened mouth.

In the end, however, the 24 hours of perversion and torture came to an end, and she was released from her bonds to stagger her way through a quick shower and then make her way home. She was more sore than ever before in her life, and covered in (presumably non-permanent) marks. But even as she tiredly tumbled into bed back home, intent on snoring her way clear through Saturday and most of Sunday, she felt like the experience had purified her - like it had been some sort of reverse feat of asceticism, helping her to reach a lower, rather than higher, level of consciousness. The things that once concerned her no longer seemed important, and her old worries appeared insignificant now. She knew what she wanted to do, and how to do it.

Little more than a week later, shortly after her 16th birthday, and without so much as a farewell fuck for her 'daddy', she ran away from home. She'd made her decision. If the world wanted to brand her a slut, a whore and a tramp simply for enjoying the pleasures of the flesh, then she would take those names and make them her own. She would become exactly what they feared. Her early-blooming body was already bountiful enough that no-one would guess her to be a minor at a glance, and she no longer had any reservations about applying her skills and interests for monetary gain. She soon learned, however, that discarding your moral restraints didn't mean that nature didn't have some lessons left to teach you.

She hadn't played the field for long before she picked up her first STD. It was a hazard she'd never even considered up to that point - what with her past sexual conquests including a number of dogs, a family-man, and three convicted sex-offenders who had understandably few opportunities to pick up venereal diseases themselves. She was lucky enough that this first brush was only a case of the Chlamydia, however - a fairly harmless and curable condition... and it prompted her to be more careful from then on. She made sure to carry condoms wherever she went, and soon found added uses for them - such as signaling her desire for casual sex by flashing them at an interested-seeming man. Whenever she stuck with a particular guy for more than a few days, though, she'd try to extract a clean bill of health from him - just so she could discard the rubbers and once again enjoy the feeling of having all her orifices filled by hot cum.

For the next several years, she drifted across the country, rarely staying in one place for more than a few months at a time. She made her way as a stripper, a prostitute (both legal and illegal), a porn-starlet and occasionally as a 'kept woman' for someone rich and perverse enough to suit her tastes... for a while. Wherever she went, she sought out new sexual experiences - new kinks and perversions, and when those ran dry, new and fresh combinations of kinks she'd already tried. New places to fuck - from banging a senatorial candidate in the back his limo, to being mounted by a junkyard dog in a secluded corner of a scrapyard. She tried fucking in free-fall and underwater. She tried having sex in a kiddie-pool full of lime Jell-O. She tried anything and everything she could, purely for the novelty of it.

And of course, part of that was finding new partners. If all else failed, she could always find a new man, with a slightly different fuck-style and marginally different combination of kinks than any of the men who'd gone before... or better yet, a new kind of animal, with a different cock-shape, sperm-taste or other peculiarities. Equines were the first she got a chance to sample, beyond the abundant canines she already had plenty of experience with - a pony-stallion came first, but she only really got her fill when she spent a while performing at the infamous 'Donkey-Shows' of Tijuana. After that, she took some pains to seek out a full-sized stallion, just to try it.

Indeed, every once in a while, she'd stop wandering aimlessly for a spell, caught up in the desire to sample some obscure or unusual kink, focusing doing the necessary research and legwork to accomplish it. Like the time she got hooked on incest after spending a night with a pair of lesbian twin sisters who were NEARLY as perverted as her, and decided that the time she'd once spent with her uncle just wasn't quite incest-y enough. It took her a month to investigate her own background deeply enough to find the name of her mother, who had apparently divorced her father shortly after her birth, leaving him with custody since he was the better provider. She had then gone on to a second marriage, which had apparently been quite happy until she died in a car-crash a couple of years earlier. Before then, she'd had a son with her second husband... her half-brother, who would be just about turning 18 by that point. She tracked him down across several states and seduced him - not a difficult feat since he was, after all, a teenage boy - and spent several days fucking him every which way she could, introducing him to as many perverse variants as she could get away with. Then she told him that she was actually his long-lost half-sister, gave him a final blowjob, and left.

Somewhere along the way, she started picking up patterns. There were many kinds of men she could encounter, moving in the circles she did. There were guys who'd buy a hooker just to talk to her, and men who'd invite a stripper into the VIP room to give her a foot-massage. She didn't want to waste her time on those. She preferred her men primal, filled with lust and disinclined to waste time talking... much like the animals she would have easily preferred as partners, were it not for their deplorable lack of sexual creativity and opposable thumbs. And while her body-shape and attitude DID tend to attract those types, she felt like she could do better. Filter out the unsuitable ones, while drawing in those looking for uncomplicated, no-strings-attached sex.

Shortly after beginning her wandering ways, she'd seduced a doctor in order to get her tubes tied for free - she didn't want to wind up pregnant, after all, and the pills her 'daddy' had given her to prevent just that wasn't going to last. Now, she did it again, but with a plastic-surgeon instead. It was surprisingly easy to find one with suitably perverse tastes, and then it was just a matter of fulfilling enough of his darkest dreams to make him cough up a pair of free breast-implants in return - kicking her already impressive chest-department clean into 'good grief' territory. Next she targeted the owner of a piercing and tattoo-parlor, getting herself set up in both areas - taking suggestions for her decorations from some of her cruder, more obscene lovers. The paw-and-horseshoe designs on the shoulders, however, were her own idea...

The brand was mostly an accident - she stumbled on a rancher with a fetish for branding, and was sufficiently intrigued by the notion to go through with it. The custom-made brand made her buttock sizzle like BBQ meat, and while the man wielding it literally creamed his pants from sheer arousal, it was the most painful experience of her (rather eventful) life - and the first one to be so intensely agonizing that she couldn't get off on it. While she certainly had no desire to ever repeat the experience, she was grateful to the man for helping her to finally find the limits of her masochistic streak, something she'd searched for for years. Needless to say, she demonstrated her appreciation by first licking his cum-stained cock and underwear clean, and then inviting him to fuck her ass while the brand still hissed and bubbled.

Her new body, along with the deliberately obvious 'bleached' look she'd picked up during one of her stints as a porn-star and decided to stick with, brought her the right sort of suitors, just as she'd hoped. Men eager to violate and humiliate her, who'd skip through boring foreplay and just pound her harshly before leaving her and moving on - saving her the trouble of doing the same. The decorations helped get her into situations she could never have simply talked her way into, such as getting gang-banged by a literal gang - dozens of black thugs, just passing her body around and having their fun with her for hours on end - or screwing an entire zoo. A man she'd picked up at random turned out to be a nightwatchman at a local zoo, and once he'd seen her shoulder-tattoos, he offered to let her in at night for a bit of fun in return for performing several humiliating acts for him. Of course, she eagerly took him up on it, and managed to cross several things off her bucket-list during their association - including banging a crocodile.

Somewhere along the way, during one of her stints as a streetwalker, she looked at her 'colleagues' and realized what she was. Many of them were desperate souls, selling their bodies to feed a drug-habit. And so, in a sense, was she. She was an addict, no different from the countless crackheads and the like she'd encountered on her travels... she was simply lucky enough that she could get PAID for feeding her addiction. The realization didn't change anything, however. If there had ever been a point where she could've turned away from that path - the path of the sex-addict, enslaved by her own body - it had passed long, long ago. And so, she continued, indulging herself to the fullest.

It was, perhaps, inevitable that she would eventually come into contact with the Order. While far from her stomping-ground in geographical terms, the internet was one of her main resources for hunting down new and peculiar perversions - and they had a strong presence there. When they invited her to join them, even offering to pay her air-fare to Egypt, she accepted with a shrug. She'd joined sex-cults before, and it had been enjoyable - for a time. And heck, if nothing else, the trip should give her a chance to screw a camel or two. She was somewhat surprised, upon her arrival, to discover that they actually took the religious mumbo-jumbo they used to justify all the kinky sex SERIOUSLY... and even more so when she saw evidence that there was something real behind it.

The idea they offered her - to become the consort of a literal god of primal lust - was too tempting for her to pass up, despite remaining somewhat unconvinced about the whole 'god' thing. If nothing else, she decided, the cult had access to resources she'd never enjoyed before, and she could at least indulge in those. The most notable of these resources was a surgeon, sufficiently fanatical to disregard the kind of ethical ramifications that had restrained even the most thoroughly-seduced doctor back home. She'd practiced cervix-stretching and womb-penetration in the past - starting not long after her first, orgasmic experiences with urethra-fucking - but she'd found the conventional methods of slow, gradual, long-term stretching to be... annoyingly inefficient. Especially since she couldn't use her pussy for sex while doing it.

And so, on her urging, the doctor surgically converted her womb - which she'd long-since rid of any chance for fertility - into something more useful: A fully-fuckable hole in direct extension of her pussy, the muscles of the cervix severed and removed to leave it a slack, easily-opened orifice. She could barely manage to stay still during the subsequent, mandatory healing-period, throwing herself into a frenzy of anal and oral sex (usually in that order) just to quiet her achingly-empty pussy. As soon as the time was up, and the doctor had confirmed that her cervix had healed properly in its new shape, she literally dashed out to the stables where the cult's animal-trainers kept and maintained the various beasts used for 'religious observances'.

She let the biggest of the stallions there mount her without any of the usual restraints, over the protestations of the trainers. Nobody had ever managed to take his arm-sized cock past the halfway point - his girth was simply too great for even those of the aspiring priestesses who had spent years of dedication stretching out their cervical openings in preparation for receiving a god there. But he slipped right into her surgically-altered womb with ease, nestling his huge cockhead there as it flared to impossible size. Then he started to ride her, with all the power of a horny, unrestrained stallion who hadn't managed to get more than half his cock wet in years. Feeling her pussy embrace his shaft right down to the radial ring seemed to push him into some sort of lust-rage, and he pounded her mercilessly.

Though fully healed, her womb remained sore and sensitive after the surgery - and even if it wasn't, the way the stallion's flat, flared cockhead was pounding against the back of it with all the weight of his immense body behind it would've sent shockwaves of pain up through her body. Combined with the sensation of her pussy being stretched around more cock than ever before in her life, rubbing every square inch of sensitive tissue on every stroke, and she found herself reaching a nirvana-esque state of balance - the pleasure and pain, both overpoweringly intense, swirling together into the perfect, creamy mix. While she had found the limits of her masochism years earlier, it was only now that she found its ideal balancing-point - and while it was certainly an area of significant competition, she felt confident that the succession of mind-shattering orgasms that followed were the most intense of her life.

From that day onwards, and indeed right up 'till the day before she left for her fateful encounter with Sobek, she'd climbed underneath that stallion at least once or twice per day - basically, as often as the horse could possibly be coerced into cooperating. The doctors who monitored the aspiring priestesses, mostly to prevent the more devout from pushing their bodies too far, too fast, had told her that the frequent, powerful pounding had actually stretched her birth-canal in the lengthwise, pushing her womb further up into her body and displacing or deforming her innards and stomach in the process. They suggested an operation to correct it - which she agreed to, on one condition.

It was a fairly simple procedure, compared to the last one. Her large and small intestines were shifted around and her stomach moved slightly to the side to accommodate her newly enlarged reproductive system - or, as she preferred to call it (particularly when the doctors were around), her fuckhole-system. More importantly - to her, at least - her large intestine was slightly reconfigured to straighten her colon, providing a corner-free corridor straight from her sphincter to just below her ribs. The recovery-period was shorter this time, and easier for her to endure - if only because her interpretation of 'strict bed-rest' was 'stay off anal sex for a while'.

As soon as the doctors cleared her as fully-recovered, she not only introduced her equine paramour to her new-and-improved asshole - which he happily jackhammered with just as much violent ardor as usual - she also requisitioned every last large-dicked animal in the Order's stables for a celebratory two-hole orgy. Horses, bulls and donkeys - as well as the multi-ton rhino that she was about the only one to regularly request anyway; sadly, the Order had yet to successfully acquire an elephant. She drew quite a crowd as she indulged herself, with aspiring priestess staring in amazement as she took a donkey's hefty cock past the radial ring, until it was buried right to the root in her ass.

While she was praised for her 'devotion', however, the teachers and elders of the Order expressed some concerns about the fact that she tended to prefer the company of equines (and bovines, when Hathor's adherents weren't hogging them), considering that she was being groomed as the consort of Sobek. Whenever they brought it up, however, she just replied by giving the 1500-pound semi-tame male crocodile they kept the 'full-course treatment', as she referred to it: Vaginal, anal and oral intercourse, in that order, followed by sticking her tongue up his tail-hole and massaging his bladder through the scaly skin of his groin until he agreeably released its contents into her thirsty mouth. For her, that was just a baseline, nothing-too-exotic session, but it always seemed to leave the critics content about the direction of her devotion, somehow... which left her free to go invite another stallion to pound her asshole sore.

As the vision caught up with the present day, Sobek emerged from it feeling slightly disoriented. He had not expected the girl's sexual history to be quite so long, or so... colorful. He'd cum twice as he sampled the pleasures and perversions that had defined her life, marveling at how far human medicine had come in crafting such a perfect receptacle for his cock. Fortunately, he'd also kept up his subtle, magical treatment of her stomach while he lapped up the flavors of her past - which meant that she was still alive, albeit likely in a great deal of pain. Her belly had ballooned out enormously, resembling the last days of a pregnancy, probably involving twins - a transformation that normally took months instead of minutes. His power, however, had seeped into her skin as well as her uterus, enabling them to expand to their natural limits faster and easier than would be normal.

And so, several gallons of his hot, thick com were now churning in her womb, being constantly stirred by the continuing back-forth-up-down motions of her hips. A small lake of the white goo had formed between his legs, as the sheer pressure inside her enabled it to squirt out around the tight seal of his knot. The pool was vaguely yellowish, indicating that the pressure had also done a number on her bladder - though, considering the uses he'd seen her put her peehole to in the past, maybe it hadn't taken all THAT much pressure to empty it.

More importantly, the crazy mortal woman was still milking his cock, even with her body already stretched to the limits of what he could grant her on such short notice. The cum WAS leaking out around her ring-heavy labia, sure, but nowhere near fast enough. With a grunt, he grabbed her by the shoulder with his spare hand and pulled her back against his chest, pushing her down as he did. Thus fully-impaled on his still rock-hard tool, he kept her still, preventing her from keeping up the stimulation - if he could just get a break for a bit, his knot would deflate and he could pull out to release the pressure. She groaned in annoyance, struggling under his grip, completely absorbed in the pleasure and pain of her overstuffed, grossly-inflated pussy and womb, paying no attention to the potential dangers of the situation.

Grumbling, he reached down with the hand that had, until then, kept her cum-heavy belly from jiggling around too much, and slipped it underneath the bulge. Just above her tautly-stretched cunt-lips, he found what he was looking for - a small, pulsating hole. Quickly swiping his middle finger back and forth through the goo leaking out around his knot a few times, covering it in lubricating slime, he then thrust it into the tiny urethra, forcing it to stretch around the rough-skinned digit. His finger was easily as long and thick as an average-sized human cock, but far knobbier and more heavily-textured - a new experience for her, and thus a mesmerizing one. Leaning heavily back against him, she moaned in pleasure and let him fingerbang her bladder at his leisure. With a sigh, he settled down to do so for a while, hoping that it'd keep her distracted long enough for his knot to deflate, letting his sharp eyes focus on the event near the gore-spattered tomb exit while he waited.

The four women were still busy, on their backs or bellies, satisfying the desires of the large reptiles around them in any way they could. Their present state of mind had rendered them into nothing but rutting beasts, leaving the crocodiles - who, while certainly possessing significant intellect compared to their dumb cousins, still weren't exactly geniuses - as the mentally superior party. The crocs called the shots, and if said shots didn't involve fucking them, they played along anyway in the hopes that pleasing their scaly masters would lead to more fucking soon.

At the moment, two of the women were busy underneath the biggest, most monstrous of the crocodiles, licking copious amounts of blood off his horse-sized member. It didn't come from the surrounding gore - the remnants of their male colleagues - but rather from the third girl, who'd had the misfortune of being the first one he reached when he decided to join the festivities. Despite a recent, vigorous introduction to anal sex, courtesy of a couple of smaller crocs, the erstwhile virgin hadn't been anywhere near ready to accept such a sizable member, wielded with such violent force, into her tender asshole. His rough attention had ripped numerous tears in her colon, while simultaneously scraping out every bit of slime that had previously clung to the insides of the now-devastated orifice.

It was still gaping wide-open - a blood-red crater between her flat buttocks, pulsing weakly as the torn and overworked muscles in the area struggled to get their act back together. She was in no danger of bleeding to death, but a steady drip-drop of blood was still leaking from the broken hole - providing extra lubrication for the mid-sized crocodile eagerly plundering the pussy beneath, unconcerned with her near-catatonic state. She twitched intermittently on the floor, unconcerned by the fact that two of her peers had been left with the unenviable task of cleaning the foul-smelling mixture of blood, ass-slime and cum off the monster's still-hard cock.

The fourth, meanwhile, had been pushed into duties that were arguably even less pleasant - she was the oldest of the four, and thus the least tight - by virtue of time's wear and tear, rather than experience. The crocodiles had thus found her three friends preferable, lavishing attention on them instead of her - forcing her to beg loudly for their cocks, any cock, in any hole, PLEASE! The beasts, being Totemic Animals who had slept in the tomb with their master since the days of the old dynasties, could not understand her modern-day Egyptian-Arabic language - but they understood the tone and the desperate, leg-spreading gestures just fine. So they gave her a chance to earn the release she craved.

Since then, she'd been lying on her back, her head tilted backwards and her mouth open as she waited for the next crocodile to step up and use her. One by one, they'd walk over her, rubbing and mashing her tits with their scaly underbellies as they guided their pale-pink cocks towards her open mouth. Then, moving just far enough for her lips to seal shut around their strangely-shaped cockheads, they'd let loose a stream of foul-tasting piss, which she swiftly swallowed. Some of them would move further forwards after emptying their bladders, taking advantage of her straightened throat to enjoy a round of face-fucking, sending a load of cum down her gullet in pursuit of the acidic urine.

Whether they took the time to deep-throat her or not, however, the next bit was the same - they'd pull out, and then move forwards a bit further, nestling their wet cocks between her breasts while lowering their rear ends over her face. It had taken her a little while to figure out what they expected of her at that point, but eventually, she'd gotten the message. A passionate kiss was required, with tongue of course. Her soft lips would squeeze against the thin scales surrounding the tight little orifice, while her tongue drilled into it right to the root, jostling around inside for however long it took to satisfy the large reptile. She assaulted the task with incredible enthusiasm, ignoring the rank taste entirely, knowing that her performance would determine her reward.

After all, if the large beast was satisfied with her oral treatment of his privates, he'd reverse directions after getting off of her, and cover her from the other direction. Then the long, thick cock would seek out her genitals instead - usually her pussy, which she was occupying her hands holding open by the labia, constantly, just to make it an easier target. Even when they found their way inside her until-recently tight asshole, though, it was still enough to make her moan and thrash in orgasmic pleasure... while leaving the croc to subsequently seek out one of the other girls for the necessary cock-cleaning, since her mouth would inevitably be occupied again as soon as he pulled out.

Of course, the crocodiles weren't entirely natural - they were Totemic Beasts, and thus free of most simple, bodily needs. However, being beasts of Sobek, whose purview was the simple pleasures of the flesh, they rather enjoyed indulging in those bodily needs anyway. As such, their bladders never truly ran dry - they were developing the rank, stinking urine specifically so that they could have the pleasure of forcing her to be their personal toilet. With this constant supply, and her mind being unable to grasp any concept beyond the desire for more sex, she was paying little attention to the fact that her stomach was becoming dangerously bloated with piss and cum, pushing against the skin of her belly. The resulting pain was a vague, distant, unimportant thing to her.

While she continued her disgusting duties, another one of her peers was experiencing the orgasmic agony of having her body broken. The monster crocodile, eventually satisfied that the two women had tongue-cleaned his bloodstained cock properly, had then simply pushed one of them down on her backs, and steered his spit-slicked member between her eagerly-spread legs. The huge shaft bulldozed its way into her until-just-recently-virgin pussy, forcing the inexperienced tissue and muscles to stretch impossibly, tearing it bloody where it failed. Her outer labia barely contained the girth of his head, and as he pushed deeper without shadow of concern for his partner, the growing thickness became more than the overworked hole could handle. A painful fissure formed at the bottom of the slit, her body literally torn open to accommodate him. Deeper inside, her birth-canal fared little better, developing several small tears in its surface as it struggled to contain the sheer quantity of cock-meat being forced into it - adding a fair flow of blood to the lubrication she was already putting out.

Depth was another matter - there was still several inches of thick, hard shaft left outside when the rounded tip of his cockhead bounced up against her cervix. This limitation did not concern him either - he simply began thrusting as fast and as hard as his nigh-immortal, multi-ton body would allow, pounding the back of her pussy with jackhammer blows. There was no way for the thick attacker to force open the tiny, tightly-clenched entrance of the cervix and gain access to the womb beyond, of course - but he could, and did, pound her entire uterus into a broken and torn mass of bleeding tissue. She shuddered underneath him as the torturous agony mixed with the irresistible desire in her mind, pushing her even deeper into the pit of insensibility. Her legs trembled, but refused to close. Even that level of pain was an acceptable price to pay for the pleasure of the penetration.

The other girl who, with slightly better fortune, had avoided the monster crocodile's attention after finishing the disgusting clean-up job on his cock, was at the same time continuing the ongoing process of becoming intimately familiar with the taste of ass. A scaly paw on the back of the head was forcing her face into the ruined asshole of the monster-croc's first conquest, holding her there while its owner roughly pounded her pussy. The crater before her was large enough that it reached from the bridge of her nose to below her lower lip, and while it was by no means an airtight seal, she was still struggling to breathe in the thick, foul-smelling air that filled the other girl's torn-open colon. Of course, since her mouth was busy lapping up the steady stream of red-flecked cum that was flowing from the depths of the shattered orifice, she was forced to mostly breathe through her nose, thus getting the full benefits of the scents involved.

The owner of said asshole, meanwhile, was busy getting her throat stretched open. With her head down close to the ground and bent back, straightening her neck, she was slipping in and out of consciousness - barely getting enough oxygen to survive between thick, hard crocodile cocks forcing their way past her tonsils to rape her throat. Her tongue and lips were still working, though - chiefly on autopilot - caressing the shafts and oddly-shaped heads as they were pushed through her mouth. The gnarled heads often carried dollops of strong flavor with them, globs of cum, juice or slime from whatever orifice they'd last visited - and she eagerly licked them up and let them coat her tongue, often unable to swallow them for a while due to the thick shafts obstructing her throat. Whenever she had a moment between oral invaders, she begged - in a rough, cracking voice - for someone, anyone, to shove something into her achingly empty pussy. She kept hoping that the girl behind her would eventually take pity and start fisting her, but alas, the eager ass-licker needed both of her hands to stabilize herself under the rough pounding she was enduring, and couldn't spare the hand for it.

Sobek watched the puppets carouse with his pets, grinning as he wondered how long they would last. The four women that had been given to him in sacrifice were, after all, already dead - their selves, their wills, their Ib and Ba torn away and sent to his brother, Anubis, for judgment. All that was left were the empty shells, driven and animated by the leftover sparks of life - the Ka_and _Sheut - and controlled by fragments of his own will, turning them into mindless, pleasure-seeking automatons. They had no instinct of self-preservation anymore - all that mattered was the sex. Despite that, they'd probably last longer than any mortal glancing at their current situation would expect...

Why, just the one currently bucking under the biggest of his pets... the ground beneath her was already stained crimson-red, and when he finished and pulled out, the drops would become a flood, threatening to kill her from blood-loss and internal bleeding due to the damage the oversized cock had inflicted. But she wouldn't really die from something like that, oh no. Her body would heal, and the lost blood would be replaced, faster than normal. The piss and cum his pets were spurting into their every orifice was suffused with small motes of his power, the power of the Ka, the life-spark.

It would enable them to recover faster and easier than a normal human being. Of course, it wouldn't be enough to make their shredded, torn-open holes grow back together - but that was just par for the course. It would keep them alive, or some reasonable semblance thereof, for months, perhaps longer, while their bodies gradually degenerated under the tireless attention of his pets - eagerly fucking, sucking and licking until they passed out for exhaustion, and resuming as soon as they awakened from a few short hours of fitful sleep, during which the crocodiles would no doubt continue to take advantage of their unconscious bodies. Then, in the end, when they finally expired under the constant stress, they would satisfy a different sort of hunger...

While reflecting on this, he felt his knot finally begin to deflate. The constant contractions of the pussy wrapped tautly around it - provoked by the steady string of orgasms he was extracting from its owner by fingering her bladder - had made it an even longer process than he had feared. But now, at last, he could pull his finger back out of her urethra, shift his grip to her hips, and pull her up and off his still-hard shaft with a grunt. She groaned as he did it, clinging to his hands for stability as her body rose into the air, her feet dragging along the side of the throne. A deluge of cum emerged from her pussy as soon as the knot popped out, splashing all over his thighs and pooling between his legs, before oozing over the edge of the throne in a white waterfall.

His cock was, inevitably, covered in a thick layer of the slippery slime too. It smeared across her buttocks as he repositioned her body, aiming the fleshy tip of his cockhead at the small, but obviously well-used hole between them. Without even waiting for her still-swollen womb to finish draining through her cavernous cunt, he thrust her body down over his cock, forcing open her sphincter with violent power. It responded with practiced ease, stretching wide to accommodate his huge girth, scraping off part of the gooey cum-layer as he pushed her further down. The flow of sperm from her pussy slowed as the widening of her ass squeezed her cunthole partially shut, deforming it into a C-shaped passage. Hatshepsut moaned lustily as she felt the thick meat-log fill her ass, violently stimulating the until-then neglected orifice.

The moan rose in pitch as he pushed her the last few inches down, forcing her sphincter to expand around his currently-deflated knot - a feat that was right at the limits of her body's current capacity. It then turned into a shriek of pleasure as he immediately pulled her back up again, barely letting her ass touch his hips before reversing directions. Having just drained, his knot would take a while before working its way back up to expanding - and he intended to capitalize on it fully in the meantime, bouncing her body up and down on the full length of his erection, taking advantage of her surgically-straightened colon all the way.

Her swollen belly and large, heavy tits bounced fiercely throughout the violent ride, and the steady stream of cum flowing from her battered pussy became a series of powerful spurts instead, splattering the throne beneath. Her head lolled atop her neck, eyes unfocused and mouth hanging open with the tongue emerging as she panted like a bitch in heat. One of her hands gave up on clinging to Sobek's arms, and instead moved - seemingly of its own accord - down to her pussy. She quickly thrust two slender fingers into her still-gaping urethra, anchoring the hand there even as the rest of her body was shaken around by the powerful thrusts. The thumb above, meanwhile, started furiously rubbing her pierced and hardened clit, adding yet another point of sexual stimulation to the rising crescendo.

Hatshepsut had loved anal sex pretty much ever since she first discovered it - almost preferring it over plain old vaginal sex, if she had to choose - though the reasons had shifted somewhat over the years. At first, it had just been something new and different, which was after all one of her main fetishes. Later, when that particular distinction had worn off, the pain it inflicted - thanks to her usually rough and invariably older lovers - had been a nice perk, fueling her masochistic tendencies. That aspect, while still present, had lessened as the frequently extreme stretching she put her sphincter through caused it to loosen and lose sensitivity, ensuring that only stallion-sized intrusions and above provoked even a spark of pain. But of late, she'd found another reason to enjoy it. Pussy-fucking, particularly since getting her womb remodeled, had been so insanely stimulating that she tended to just lose herself in a constant stream of powerful orgasms once a suitably well-equipped lover got going... while an assault on her by-now rather desensitized ass enabled her to enjoy and savor the gradual buildup to each climax, making the final result all the sweeter.

This ascension towards the orgasmic peaks was already nearing its end when her body, once again pushed down over the meaty tower of Sobek's vertically-aligned cock from a height of more than a foot, came to a grinding halt several inches sooner than expected. For a moment, her entire mass and the energy it carried after the descent was resting solely on her sphincter, which sent signals of desperate pain coursing up her spine as it suddenly failed to stretch far enough to accommodate the intruder. Sobek's knot had begun to swell again, its growing girth arresting her fall just before the halfway-point of the bulge, leaving her stretched wider than ever before. Then one of Sobek's heavy hands moved to her shoulder and pressed down sharply, forcing her to drop the last few inches as her asshole stretched to the very limit around the half-inflated bulge.

As soon as it was all the way inside, it expanded fully, stretching the first few inches of her colon thin and taut. The pressure was enough to just about seal the neighboring birth-canal, cutting the ongoing flow of cum down to a dribble and leaving her with a still-swollen (if somewhat less pregnant-looking) belly for the foreseeable future. The sensation of her ass shrieking in protest as it was stretched to the very limit was something she had almost forgotten, so long had it been since she'd last been genuinely challenged in the rectal department. Needless to say it pushed her over the edge, and she shuddered and convulsed atop the impaling member as she climaxed.

Sobek, meanwhile, groaned as he felt the extreme tightness around his member. He was tied in good and hard again, the expanded knot pushing against bone in several directions. It was an even tighter fit than before, though - when he'd been stuck in her pussy, he'd at least had an inch or two of play, enough that she could shift about a bit. Not so this time - her asshole was already bulging out around the bottom of his knot, her asscrack converted into a crater-rim surrounding his shaft. Meanwhile at the other end, the flexible tip of his cockhead was being pulled sharply to the side, following the angle of the large intestine. He could neither pull in nor push deeper inside without causing serious damage to the mortal woman.

He looked down at the fragile, lust-crazed thing for a moment, then shrugged. Shifting his grip on her body, he pulled her arms - little more than matchsticks in his grip - back and up, while spinning some magic into the air between them. Thick rings appeared in his nipples, while broad manacles of dull metal materialized around her wrists. Chains then appeared between the two, leaving wrists and nipples firmly attached to each other, her arms thus locked in that pose. Then he put his hands on the armrests of his throne and, with a grunt, pushed himself up to stand before it.

She moaned as she dangled from his crotch, her ass firmly glued to his hips, her legs hanging down to his knees, and her upper body kept up by the chain attached to her arms. He'd adjusted their length to ensure that her back was just about horizontal, and he spared an admiring glance for living cocksleeve before he started walked - each step making her moan and shudder with pleasure and pain. If he wanted her off his cock again in one piece, he needed to cum first - otherwise, his knot wouldn't deflate. But to cum without being able to MOVE inside her, that would require two things: Some truly depraved perversity to tickle his fancy, and some orgasms for her - just to get her overstretched ass squeezing down on him.

Fortunately, he figured he could get both of those things nearby - specifically, in the ongoing orgy between his Totemic Beasts and the four sex-puppets he had created earlier. Reptiles and humans alike paused in their carnal acrobatics and looked up as he approached, ready to attend to his every whim, and he grinned down at them in response, bidding them to continue even as he joined the festivities. His cock was occupied, and Hatshepsut's pussy and ass were both thoroughly blocked - but that did not stop either one of them from contributing to the party.

Hatshepsut's mouth was voracious - whatever Sobek steered her near, she eagerly licked, sucked on or kissed, as appropriate. She gobbled down croco-cocks with ravenous hunger, and tongue-cleaned the worn, cum-stained pussies and assholes of the girls with equal willingness. The older of the girls - the one who'd spent most of the night as a toilet for the crocodiles, drinking piss and licking assholes without pause - received a deep, tongue-wrestling makeout-session too, giving Sobek a little shiver of pleasure as he watched it. However, looking at the woman, and the way her swollen belly sloshed and jiggled with the vast quantities of piss it contained, he decided that she was a bit too much of a mess to serve HIM in any regard. So he pulled one of the other girls away from her duties and tasked her to lick, suck and tongue-wash his dangling balls and puckered asshole whenever he wasn't doing something that'd prevent her from doing so. She obeyed with gusto, of course - in what passed for her mind at the moment, there was no higher calling than to serve him directly.

He grinned with pleasure as he felt her tongue hungrily dig beneath his short, triangular reptile-tail to caress his asshole and, almost as an afterthought, emptied his bladder. He didn't need to do so any more than his pets did, but it was one more thing he could do without moving his cock. Over a gallon of the hot liquid poured from the rubbery tube of his urethra to splash deep into Hatshepsut's intestines, filling them and making her slosh even more than before whenever he moved. She grunted at the sensation - a positive sort of grunt, he thought. She hadn't enunciated a single understandable word since she'd first impaled herself on his cock, and he rather suspected that she had, in fact, temporarily lost the capacity to.

When he got tired of pushing her open mouth and wagging tongue into various sorts of perversity, he laid down on his back to relax for a spell - with his legs splayed wide and his dutiful ball-and-ass-licker still busy at work on whatever she could reach, of course. On his suggestion, several of the smaller crocodiles climbed up his body to mount the woman still strapped to his groin, aiming their thick cocks at the only usable orifice she had at the moment - her urethra. Being creatures of Sobek, they had no understanding of concepts such as 'restraint', and cared not one whit for the fact that the hole they were using was of a delicate construction and had never been designed for penetration - they simply pounded her bruised bladder, depositing their thick, slimy cum-loads there until it bulged out from her groin like a tiny copy of the swaying, sperm-filled belly above. Fortunately, the fragile organ had enjoyed some proximity-effect from Sobek's treatment of her womb, and thus managed to bear up under the assault - albeit painfully.

The brutal pisshole-fuck made her cum repeatedly, as it tended to, and her battered asshole tried to do what it usually did under those circumstances - contract rhythmically, clamping down on whatever was inside. In this case, however, the intrusion was a rock-hard column of meat that was already stretching the local muscles to their very limits, preventing them from doing anything more than twitch halfheartedly and send signals of stabbing agony up her spine to be misinterpreted by her masochistic brain. Sobek, meanwhile, enjoyed the light massage and encouraged his pets to tease more orgasms out of her. Which, of course, they accomplished by pouring even more violent thrusts into her stretched-out urethra.

For the next few hours, he varied his approach between letting the crocodiles - the smallest of whom rivaled the most well-equipped human lovers she'd let fuck her peehole - pound her bladder ceaselessly, and finding more creative ways for her to utilize her dirty mouth. He carried her back to the throne, for example, and shoved her face into the pool of piss-mixed cum that covered the seat, so that she could lap it up. He watched as one of the sex-puppets, whose legs apparently weren't working properly after a particularly violent anal session with the mega-sized monster-croc, pulled herself up for a slobbery makeout by gripping the metal loops attached to Hatshepsut's nipples, supporting most of her weight on them for the duration. The shuddering groans this elicited from her during the session inspired him to apply the same magic that had created the chains connecting them again, this time forming a trio of simple metal balls and attaching one to each of the convenient anchoring-points offered by her piercings.

Finally, as he watched her shove most of her face into the gaping cunt of one of the monster-croc's victims, lapping up the creamy cum overflowing from it as the weights attached to her nipples and clit swung heavily beneath her, occasionally bouncing off her bulging belly, Sobek came. His hips reflexively thrust forwards as a low roar whistled through his sharp fangs, sending a shockwave up through Hatshepsut's body and pushing her face even harder into the gaping pussy before her, leaving her gasping for breath in the heavy, cum-scented air within. She shuddered orgasmically as she felt the tide of thick, white goo surge into her intestines, churning together with the gallon of piss that had been sloshing around there for hours now, and pushing deeper into her system. Her whole body seemed to be filled with hot, slimy cum - womb, stomach, bladder, ass and mouth - and she was loving every second of it.

Once he'd finished his climax, his hips no longer shaking with instinct-driven micro-thrusts, he pushed himself back to his feet and staggered back to his throne, Hatshepsut still dangling from his groin even as his knot began to shrink. He plopped down on the wet seat and, with a wave of his hand, made the chains stretching between his nipples and her wrists disappear into thin air. He left the metallic weights dangling heavily from her tits and clit alone, though, seeing no particular reason to remove them. Then, when he felt that his knot was just about back at its 'dormant' size, he tightly gripped her hips and lifted her up and off his shaft, holding her in place above it for a spell.

Her asshole gaped wide, the sphincter worn red and ragged, swollen from the stress. A deluge emerged from it, frothy and yellowish-white with occasional tiny specks of brown mixed in - whatever hadn't been pushed too deeply into her bowels to escape easily. His still-hard cock, which was already messy and rank-smelling from having been marinating inside her piss-filled rectum for hours, was swiftly covered in the disgusting goo. More of it splashed down to pool between his thighs and run over the edge of the throne in a dirty-white waterfall, joined there by a steady stream of frothy cum emerging from her pussy now that its exit was finally unrestricted again.

In the middle of this pool between his legs, Sobek unceremoniously dropped Hatshepsut, leaving her ass and thighs covered in the nasty slime. Then he leaned back, waiting to see what her next move would be. He was not disappointed - it took her less than a minute to regain her equilibrium, her eyes focusing on the surroundings again after having spent the tail-end of the anal session clouded with unreasoning lust. And as soon as she was able to string a thought together again, she pushed herself up to her knees while turning around to gaze up at him, her face caked with cum and juices - both dried and fresh - from the various things he'd been shoving her head in for the past couple of hours.

Then, very deliberately, she leaned forwards and began to lick his cock, cleaning off the layer of foamy, piss-mixed cum that covered it with her tongue. Grinning broadly, Sobek leaned his head on one hand and simply watched her work, as she labored to reach and lick every square inch of his shaft - staining her face and breasts with the foul-smelling gunk that covered it in the process. He knew that several of his brethren liked to make their cum - and various other bodily excretions - immensely tasty or even intoxicating, either just to set the mood or as a sort of perverse reward for their priestesses - but he had always preferred going the other way, making his cum thick and bitter, and his piss foul and acrid. Not so much to test the willingness of his priestesses to swallow it all anyway, as because it simply aroused him to watch them take on such disgusting and humiliating tasks.

But he had, at last, met his match - Hatshepsut enjoyed the task, for exactly the same reason. The sour-bitter taste that almost, but not quite, concealed the dank, underlying flavor of her own well-fucked, rarely-cleaned ass, the rancid smell that assaulted her every breath due to the slimy cocktail being liberally smeared on and around her nose - it all just served to fuel her desires, the humiliation and denigration setting off her masochistic tendencies in much the same way physical pain did. She lapped it all up, literally and figuratively, sending the frothy mix sliding down her gullet, mouthful after mouthful of it joining the already significant quantities of cum she'd swallowed over the course of the night.

Chuckling, Sobek reached down his free hand and started lightly fingering her asshole while she worked. The sphincter remained wide-open, gaping broadly as if the tormented muscles in the area had yet to discover that the massive intruder was gone. His fingers caressed the worn and swollen ring, sending little shivers up her spine. "Heh... you really are a woman after my own heart..." he commented as he watched her agile tongue scoop out the large dollops of messy cum that had gotten caught between the fleshy protrusions of his cockhead, clearing the way for her to wrap her lips around the rubbery tip of his urethra and forcefully suck out whatever remnants of sperm might be stuck within. Her eyes rose to meet his as he spoke, but she did not deviate from her oral task.

With a shrug, Sobek shook his massive head. "I am not usually one to stand on formality, but in a case like this, I suppose it is expected. Consider yourself formally accepted and appointed, my Priestess, my God-Wife..." This, at last, gave her pause - and she lifted her cum-smeared face from his cock to grin broadly. "Glad to hear it, my God, my Husband, my Love... 'cuz I think I've gotten addicted to your huge cock, and I couldn't bear to have to live without it." He laughed raucously at this, while she - having said her piece - immediately returned to licking and sucking on said cock. She was mostly done with the shaft by now, but she was hungrily eyeing the heavy, pendulous balls that laid beneath it - covered in a thick layer of scuzzy cum, of course.

"Well, you will have plenty of opportunities to satisfy that addiction..." he remarked as he felt her tongue begin to caress the smooth skin of his ballsack. "Most of my brethren, they visit their God-Wives only rarely, during special rites or annual festivals - stuff like that. But not me, oh no. I expect you to service me daily. Every night before you go to your bed, you will perform a simple, yet pleasurable ritual, which will ensure that your spirit is drawn to my kingdom as you sleep. There, I will use you for my own pleasure... or let my pets play with you, should I be too busy to see to your needs myself." He leered down at her while she shivered in expectation. "I'm really looking forwards to it, too... I'm awfully impressed that you've managed to push your body to the point where you can take my full girth and full length in either hole, but the body DOES still have its limits. When you stand before me as a naked spirit... there will be no such concerns, and I will finally be able to give you a proper fucking without having to worry about inadvertently breaking you."

That, of course, was not ENTIRELY true. Sure, a woman's spirit wouldn't suffer internal injuries from having him violently pound it with his oversized member, but her mind would still feel and interpret the experience as one of overwhelming pain and intense violation. Back in the day, he'd gone through High Priestesses maybe three times as fast as any of his brethren - they rarely lived long, and if they didn't simply collapse from the stress, the perverse regimen usually drove them mad eventually. However, he saw no reason to pass that particular piece of information on to this girl... partially because it wouldn't change anything, and partially because he suspected it wouldn't be a problem with her. Even though the bond between them hadn't QUITE been finalized, he could already feel her spirit - a bubbling, hissing, twisting mass of desire and hunger. She wouldn't just survive it, he knew - she'd thrive on it.

Removing his fingers from her gaping asshole, he let his hand wander up her spine to the bare spot between the 'All-Access' sign and the 'animals welcome' symbols, and began pouring some of his energy into his fingers. "You know that I am to brand you, yes?" She nodded briefly before returning to the task of tongue-washing his balls. "The general rule is to put my mark on you, as you probably know. My symbol. That would be the crocodile. However, that is simply tradition, and not truly a necessity. So, seeing as you have already seen fit to decorate your body extensively, I will instead give you a brand that will... blend in with the rest." His fingers began to dance, leaving lines of smoldering black on her unblemished skin as they went, and she shuddered beneath him. His touch felt piercing cold rather than burning hot, noticeably different from when she'd acquired her butt-brand.

Finally, the pain stopped, and she couldn't resist lifting her head and craning her neck to glance down her back at his work. It was a short series of hieroglyphics, and she instantly understood their meaning... almost too quickly, really. She'd learned to read hieroglyphics as part of her training in the Order, but it hadn't been a major focus compared to mastering the spoken language. Sobek chuckled above her. "I have put a bit of extra magic into the brand itself. Anyone who lays eyes on it, regardless of what language they know, or even if they know how to read in the first place, will immediately know its meaning when they see it." She laughed - a surprisingly clear and musical sound, considering the rough treatment her throat had been getting that night - and returned to licking his balls. The brand, using several hieroglyphics she hadn't known existed (probably because they weren't likely to appear on the walls of the tombs of kings), basically read "Fuck and abuse this cock-hungry slut." An eminently clear statement that would probably save her some talking in the future.

Then, apparently feeling that she'd cleaned his full tool - cock and balls alike - to his satisfaction, Sobek put a gentle hand on the top of her head and pushed her away. "Time for me to go." He declared. "I suspect you've soaked up more than enough of my scent at this point to ensure that the creatures I command will obey you... and of course, I'll leave you one of my pets as a bodyguard and companion." He glanced over at the gore-stained patch of floor where the four women and the pack of crocodiles were continuing their carnal circus, and sighed. "I suppose I'd best let you have Oldest Brother... he's the only one who might be able to keep up with you, after all." He made a small gesture, and the massive, car-sized crocodile lifted his head, disentangled himself from the surrounding orgy, and stomped towards the throne.

Hatshepsut gazed admiringly at the huge beast - particularly the long, thick cock dragging beneath his scaly belly - and smiled. He'd suit her just fine, she decided. Then a thought occurred to her, and she quickly looked up at Sobek again. "Wait... you haven't told me about the ritual yet. The one I need to do every night so my spirit will fly to your side." He lifted a scaly eyebrow and scratched his head. "Oh, right... I guess there isn't anything left of my old priesthood to instruct you. Well, it's really simple, so no worries. First you have to let a crocodile fuck you until he is satisfied - doesn't matter if it's this big boy or a normal one, either." He gestured at the towering monster who was, by, now, standing next to the throne, looking bored. "Then, you go to sleep with a cock lodged inside you. Doesn't matter which hole, or whose cock. Can be the same crocodile you just fucked, or something else. Canines work well, though, since they're less liable to slip out."

He partially covered a massive yawn with one of his broad hands. "That's it, really. They used to throw in a lot of prayer and special, ritualistic stuff like fucking the crocodile before my altar, or sleeping beneath the gaze of a statue of me - stuff like that - but none of it really matters. The carnal acts and the crocodile - a living symbol of me - that's all it takes to open the way to my kingdom." She nodded, making a mental note of all he'd said. That was, indeed, a 'ritual' she could live with. Maybe now that she was an official High Priestess, she could convince Iset, the High Priestess of Anubis, to help her acquire some canines big enough to actually tie with her... something her frequent orifice-stretching exercises had denied her the ability to do with regular-sized canines. Or, failing that, she could entreat Satiah, the High Priestess of Khnum, to use her fancy-slash-creepy flesh-shaping abilities to MAKE her a suitably up-scaled doggy.

As these plans bounced around in her head, Sobek yawned again and lifted his hand. "I will see you tomorrow night, my wife... for now, I must rest, and see to my long-abandoned kingdom." Then, before she could reply, he brought his hand down, and a blinding flash filled the room. When her vision cleared, it was mostly dark - the pulsating, deep-blue light of the obelisks had gone out, leaving the chamber vaguely illuminated by a handful of flashlights and a partially burned-out torch discarded carelessly near the entrance. It was enough light, however, to illuminate an area of the floor awash with gore, bits of bone and fragments of flesh scattered amidst smeared blood. Something had definitely died there, but there was no signs of the creatures behind it. The throne she was kneeling on, meanwhile, had a layer of dried mud caking its seat, and more spreading from its base.

Crawling down from the seat, she heard a weak, squeaking cry from somewhere near her feet and looked down. There was a lizard sitting there - an emerald-green little thing no bigger than her hand, looking up at her with its beady little eyes. She grinned at it and reached her hand down for it, and sure enough, as soon as her fingers reached it, it dashed up her arm to pose itself on her shoulder, looking around at the empty, moisture-choked tomb from its new vantage-point. Tickling it on the crown with one finger, she began to walk - somewhat shaky and bow-legged - towards the exit, pausing to pick up her discarded dress and a flashlight along the way. There'd be a jeep waiting for her above, the knew - with a very nervous driver. Ready to take her back to her new home - the Order of the Ancient Sands - preferably before the local authorities found this place.

END - SOBEK IS FREE

Deep, deep in the desert, buried beneath uncounted tons of sand, a tunnel had been carved into the bedrock. There were no ruins around it, no indication that some temple or shrine had once stood on top of it - because none had. Its entrance was covered under several thousand tons worth of boulders and gravel - the product of a deliberate effort, rather than simple geology - and behind that a solid block of obsidian served as a cork. Inscribed on its front, preserved through the millenia far from the corrosion of the surface, were dire warnings to never, ever, under any circumstances breach the seal. Beyond that, a dark and dusty tunnel stretched down until it reached another block of obsidian, this one adorned with even more graphic and specific warnings of terrible doom. Past that, the tunnel bent back beneath itself and continued into the darkness. This continued for seven lengths of tunnel, sealed by seven blocks of obsidian, and ending in a final chamber far, far beneath the ground.

Within that chamber, a circular dais filled the floor, lined with countless obelisks covered in hieroglyphics. They stood side by side like bars in a prison, nearly concealing the massive statue in their midst - one depicting an inhuman creature sitting on a granite throne. Like many Egyptian gods, he had the body of a man and the head of a beast... but that beast did not resemble anything that walked the earth in this age. Tall, triangular ears rose from the top of his skull, while a long, narrow snout lined with numerous sharp teeth sprouted from his face. Archaeologists studying ancient Egyptian depictions of this creature referred to it simply as the 'Set-animal' after the god associated with it, and speculated about it being a composite of various known animals, or possibly a depiction of a long-since extinct canine subspecies known only to the old Egyptians.

In that deep chamber, darkness reigned supreme. There was not the slightest mote of light... until suddenly, there was. The many obelisks that surrounded the throne began to throb, the hieroglyphics covering their sides lighting up in a chaotic variety of colors, illuminating the walls and ceiling of the chamber in a sickening whirl of different shades. Along the walls, squares of obsidian could be seen, each imprinted with the image of a canine-looking creature with tall, triangular ears and a forked tail - and from behind them, vague scratching noises could be heard. In the midst of the circle, meanwhile, a grinding noise resounded as cracks formed across the face of the statue. Bits of dust and fragments of stone fell from it, revealing sleek, hairless, black skin beneath.

The long, narrow muzzle, freed of stony containment, curved into a sardonic smile, and a whisper emerged from it - speaking a language long dead, to a chamber empty and forgotten. "So... my brethren awaken... roused by the mortals to aid them once more. But none come to visit MY prison, do they? None seek the favor or aid of Set, the God of the Desert, the Lord of Storms, the Master of Disorder and Violence? Perhaps they would rather I remain in my slumber forever, along with old Apophis... but, ahhh, how can I sleep when such power stirs deep in the land?" The obelisks around him, as if they'd heard his words, began to glow more intensely. The narrow, tooth-filled snout sneered at them, but the layer of stone surrounding its base was spreading, seeking to cover the black hide again.

"Hmph... maybe I'll snooze for a bit longer... but this prison cannot hold me forever. Soon enough, I will be free. Then I will remind them of the foolishness inherent in ignoring the God of the Desert..." The last of his words were slurred as the stone began to bind his lips again, and soon the silence returned. The statue once again resembled a statue... but the sneering grin on the long snout remained, even as the light faded from the surrounding obelisks, leaving the tomb covered in impenetrable darkness. A slight tremor went through the chamber as if something impossibly immense had stirred and shifted in its sleep beneath it. Then all was still again.

SET STIRS - APOPHIS TURNS