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Artefact

By Laz Briar

Ah, the thrill of discovery!

James had built a career on it, ever since his first dig on the peninsula of Jarat. Oh, how tremors of excitement bloomed in his chest when the fragments of some ancient bone or thousand-year old tool met his brush strokes. The world was a library of history, an untapped tomb of ancient secrets open only to those with the patience and skill to discover them!

And the recognition didn't hurt either, or the money. James liked the former plenty – but money allowed him to appreciate the latter. Which, of course, let him discover more.

Perhaps this desire bubbled into a ravenous appetite. Because, well, he decided to slink past protocol common amongst his profession, the kind dictating a bit more nuance and, well, manners. James' department – “The Registry of Ancient Artefacts" (started by Dr. Harold Obbitz, 1902, Aster University) – prided itself on decorum, authenticity, and deeds. In other words, what they found was found through means of utmost professionalism. Stiff upper lip gentlemen in academic regalia finding fragments of old worlds – the right way!

The boring way. Yes, yes, they loved – nay, adored ­­– their protocol, rules, and regiments. Requests for digging rights, applications for rights, applications for historical authenticity, merit, etc. The taxonomy of his profession drowned in this oligarchy of old men wanting to find things their way, and unfortunately, it made things far more tedious than the Daemonologist liked. James shivered at every opportunity to yank knowledge out of the ancient unknown, only to have his efforts squandered by the presence of rules.

Oho, worse yet, the suits got the credit too. Time and time again his name was an asterisk even upon personal discovery. The hilt of a Saparian potting tool? Found by him naught four years ago, credited to TERRENCE WESETZ! Terrence! You couldn't trust the man's mustache let alone the “discoveries" arranged in his prestigious profiles. It was an insult, an insult to James' work!

So why then abide by the rules if the rules did not benefit him? What use was the rule? Well, mother's pearls aside, damn the rules.

And damned they were. For James – committed to his delicious sin – had seized upon a box anonymous. This was unthinkable within the Registry. By gods, he could hear the clicking tongues of Terrence and Dr. Agdalyne already.

Unthinkable, because, it supposedly contained ruinous artefacts of distant heraldry – sold to him by a nameless commission. The information was scarce and handled through letter, the only existing information scrawled in one detail: Egyptian.

By the devil's works Egyptian fragments were hard enough to come by. Most were scooped up by every history hoarder and museum around the world. Finding new ones was a difficult task, near impossible_._ What remained were scarce shreds lorded over by tomb guard, politicians, and the fanatic public. Thus, the prospect of handling two pristine artefacts under his possession made him salivate.

Oh, but of course there was danger of fraud! Of manipulation! James knew this, yet he loved it. If he cast away the thrill of unearthing objects from the halls of the earth, he at least wanted some measure of mystery. Trusting in the unseen hands of a vagabond unknown, at least, provided some rush, some thrill. How they came about the artefacts, it hardly mattered. What was important is he had them now – or so he hoped.

Here, away from the eyes of the world, in his private study. Spacious enough to hosts books, bones, and the various fetishes of lost kingdoms, yet insulated so none would disturb him. His cleaning attendants were finished for the day and he expected no calls nor visits from the department's alumni, leaving him to bask in the glory of his new prize.

What the prize was. . . well, he didn't know yet. It was a simple box large as his torso, held with horsehair rope with hasty etchings scrawled into its frame. With it came a parcel and note of address – his own estate – but not a return. Typically packages like this roused suspicion among the common, but, in context of a Daemonologist, most assumed this was traditional in his line of work.

The light was fair, and with eager haste James unraveled the rope and opened the mysterious crate. At first, there appeared nothing but debris, scraps of decayed cotton heaped in layers. For a moment, James felt his heart chill – perhaps he was indeed duped into paying for nothing!

Yet, as his hands explored the innards of the box, the features of something met his fingers. No, not one thing, but two!

A buzz of excitement sprang through him, the kind he felt when unearthing some ancient tool or boney remain. Fidgeting with the cloth, he pulled away the frayed fabric to reveal a strange, obsidian silhouette.

“Oh, my god. . ." he whispered, palms roving over object's rigid contours.

Indeed, a god. James retrieved the shape of ebon black, pulling it free from its boxy tomb. It was a marvel, a pristine artefact of complex beauty. The amber light of his study danced over the features – a statue – washing it with incandescent oranges, like soaking oil with fire.

This object was a fetish of the ancient god Anubis – he was sure of it. The esteemed complexion of a jackal sat atop a vase-like frame, where hieroglyphics of various scripture ran across its surface, perhaps tales of the god or stories from the dead realms. The eyes were a brilliant blue, stones unfamiliar to James, though radiant in their splendor. It also possessed a magnificent weight, like a bar of metal, yet characteristic of an alien stone – again, something James could not identify at present.

Oh it was splendor, divine. Truly a shape befitting the master of the dead, and his practiced gaze saw no flaw or fragment of duplication. Yes, as he looked closer, the object lacked any trademark of a charlatan or an anonymous art project. Such carve-work was not a typical skill, especially with the rarity of this unusual rock.

His heart twittered and a seething rush engulfed him, tremors of boundless excitement burrowing through him. This was well beyond what he expected. Oh, his dreams were simpler; he wagered he might receive some scrap of archaic gold or perhaps the oxidized remnants of a scarab motif. But an entirely intact statue? Anyone in the Registry would hand over their soul for it!

He set it down, propping it on his table next to a foldout of analytical tools. He stepped back, hand over mouth, in total admiration. Oh, so marvelous! So regal! A carving truly capturing the might and awe of great Anubis! Oh, how the sapphire eyes peered with endless dignity, as though James were in presence of His lordship!

As he stepped closer to further examine the immaculate thing, something else caught his eye. As it were, the box was not empty!

James felt his heart somersault. No, could it be? Was there another artefact within the wooden tomb? Breathless, he reached inside as his hands met the weight of the same unknown composition. By gods, this was unthinkable! With renewed haste, he pulled free the second traveler, the light spilling over it to reveal what appeared as another jackal-like statue.

And it was! At first, James concluded it was some kind of replica or perhaps another variant of the Anubis carving. But quickly, he noted the immediate difference in the contours and shape. Gone were the rigid, precise cuts of the first, replaced instead by smoother slopes and gentle curves. Where the original mounted a vase-like frame, this one was an actual body. More specifically, of a woman.

James was startled. In his experience with studying old Egyptian artefacts, never did he encounter a female profile of Anubis. If that's what this was, at least. Certainly, male and female variants were common in the mythos, but not interchanged. Was it possible this was some new, undiscovered deity?

Oh the thought was incredible. . . but, no, no. He couldn't get ahead of himself. After all, he didn't know the source of these two figures. He couldn't imagine – considering their pristine state – it was accomplished legally. He could not conclude anything, not yet.

Ah, though he so wanted to. He set the female sculpt next to its husband, basking in their duality. The Anubis figurine stared in quiet glamour, draped in scripture. The female one, however, was absent of markings. James mused – perhaps this was a creation of modern inspiration? Perhaps the discoverer – the original – was so thrilled with the Anubian vessel they proceeded to duplicate it, though with a woman's profile? So many questions needing answers!

Checking again, James glanced inside the box to see if any other surprises remained. None, as it appeared, and for this he was secretly grateful. Any more sculpts and he might never find time to work!

He spent the remainder of his evening studying the statues with every examining tool in his possession. In truth, he should've handled the figures with residue-free gloves in case he might leave some damage, but the resilient stone showed no sign of wear or spoil. From there, he labored over every line and dive, scribbling notes and mimicking the hieroglyphs on the Anubis variety. He also noted, with perplexed fascination, just how accurate the female statue was. Someone had put a great deal of time in her frame – to the point where James concluded it might have been a sort of fertility icon.

Hours went by, well beyond James usual routine of sup and bed. By the time he concluded his initial examinations, it was ten to midnight. By gods, what a thrill! His brain burst with thoughts and ideas. Dreams of showcasing his discovery to the Registry invaded his mind, along with all the splendor and renown it brought. No! Not the Registry! He could go beyond them, bring his notes to the world! Ah indeed, then his name would find itself cemented in time as a legendary discoverer, would it not?

Content, yet exhausted, James fashioned himself a quick dinner and proceeded to rest. He found it difficult, so overwhelmed from the stimulus of his findings. But, indeed, sleep did come, along with dreams. . .

Dreams from distant lands.

-*-

An endless ocean of white sand hung in a lightless sky, where the sun was bright and hidden. A pyramid sat on the horizon, a silhouette of hungry black, an impenetrable shadow. Ominous, quiet, singing a chorus of a thousand whispers from a thousand dead tongues from a time long gone.

James. That was him, wasn't it? No. Yes? Yes, he was there. In the air, seeing. Observing this black pyramid with foggy coherence. But not for long – the shape was ill content to let him remain in the sky. It drew him in. He was powerless, engulfed by its gravity.

He dove into the shape. He tried to scream, but was frozen. The voices grew louder, a methodic, dull chant overwhelming him. Ah-nu-bis, they said. Over and over. Oh, gods! Was His wrath upon dear James now?

Inside the temple, the ziggurat of featureless black. Still dark, still lightless halls, save for a figure. Towering and domineering, sitting on a throne, washed in amber light – orange waves dancing on incandescent obsidian. Now James was small, looking up, up into the deep, relentless sapphire of the eyes. Whose eyes? His eyes. Eyes of mighty Anubis.

But gone now, without warning, was the pyramid. Now James found himself on a profile of wood. A table? Why yes, it was. And the figure was the statue, the vessel of great Anubis. He was back in his study?

Once more James looked into the brilliant eye-gems, and once more he was filled with a sense of awe and terror. It looked at him. It looked at him. He didn't understand!

“Anubis," it said.

James shuddered, and he woke.

He remained still, his flesh buzzing with a dismal fear, as though some horror might leap from the curtains and arrest him. As the fatigue of morn began to fade, his senses returned, and he risked movement, rising from the bedsheets.

By gods, what was that? Ah, heavens, excitement and late night food clearly did him in. His brain pounded with the chanting, so clear and unrelenting. Perhaps his conscious was mocking him for trusting in the illicit deeds of an unknown party? Bah, a foolish notion. The world of history was one of cutthroats and hoarders – sometimes you had to trust in different powers to reach your goals.

James showered and went about his morning routine, preparing for the day. There were several meetings at the Registry, but he planned to call in sick. The fever of excitement was returning to him, and he had various booklets of Egyptian history to sort through, see if he could locate the origin of the magnificent statues.

But. . . something was wrong. Before James took a sip of his morning coffee, before he even set food in his study, the sum of his flesh twitched. That was as apt as he could describe it – it was like his skin shivered on its own and his muscles simultaneously buckled and reattached.

It was abrupt, though painless. Enough, however, it alarmed James, giving him pause. A flurry of thoughts ran through his mind. Perhaps, in some cruel jest, he really was sick! But, as he rushed to the bathroom, examining himself he saw no signs of paleness, fever, or bloodshot eyes. Why, he certainly felt normal – perhaps even better so. Maybe it was just the excitement, but an unusual energy blossomed within him.

Yet, the spasm of muscle was worth examining in some part. He monetarily considered calling a doctor, but realized the attention it might bring him. He had to keep his “discovery" to himself, at least for now. And, perhaps it was said discovery which caused this involuntary twitch, some foreign bacterium his body attempted to shrug off.

He huffed. Well, he was in no mortal peril, at least not currently. More reason to return to his work. Thus, James dressed and went to his study, forgetting about the “shift" in his frame once he saw the statues again.

All their splendor once more washed over him, perhaps more so now that he had a better understanding of them. Indeed, as he pursued his archives for notations possibly mentioning their existence, he found himself enamored. Not in the traditional way – he was always intrigued by his findings. But this was so. . . different. Like an invisible bond began to form between he and the alien stone. Was it the dream? Perhaps it was just some bias or personal thrill.

But, no. . . this was something else. A variety of thoughts sprouted in his mind. Affectionate ones, romanticized ones. He – to his puzzlement – began to think of mighty Anubis, lord of the dead. He imagined the great lord in his regal habit, strolling through the ruins of endless empires, shepherding lost souls to their final respite. Ah, what glorious work, o' mighty Anubis! Truly you are a bastion of last warmth for those departing on their final journey!

He paused. What an unusual conclusion to reach. What were the deeds of a mythological being to him, a student of Daemonology? He decided to break for lunch.

But even food did little to distract his wandering ideas. He pondered over Anubs – not in the scholarly fashion, but the adoring fashion. In such a way he considered Anubis a friend, a figure he would find fascination in querying with discussion. And the female variant, oh, she must have been a ravishing beauty in her time, no?

Wait, what was he thinking? This made no sense. These were not people – not breathing beings. Anubis did not wander the earth, nor, so far as he knew, had a female profile. To fantasize about Him in such a way, or gods for that matter, was an alarming departure of sanity. His was professional work. These daydreams he entertained were neither studious nor practical.

He considered getting some air, yet, could not. If someone from the Registry saw him they'd chastise him for being a layabout. And, the idea of leaving his statues. . .

He grunted, as though shooing a voice away. Bah! What was he so worried about? Who did these thoughts really hurt? Yes, harmless indeed. Finishing his lunch, he returned to his study, resolute to proceed with work, attempting to set aside his fantasias.

Yet, the moment he stared into the gemstone eyes of the Anubis fetish, he was lost. The chants returned in his head, so clear. By gods, it was like they came from the vase itself!

James came closer, staring down the vessel, as though some profound knowledge might spring from its gaze. Certainly, none did, but he couldn't look away. Ah, what mighty words might you have, Anubis? Tell us, o lord. Tell me!

It did not. Rather, one last time, James heard the name: “Anubis."

His flesh shuddered, his frame twitched, and he collapsed.

-*-

A soul forfeit, remade.

James could not breath, for his lungs were not his own. He could not see, for the light was not his sun. He was buried, entombed, yes. Buried under sand and time, of unchecked millennia and eons long gone. His name, forgotten. His name? James – the Daemonologist?

No, no, this was different now. A meek and mortal name, coiled to an earthly tether. But a strong tether, a rope of light in this infinite darkness, enough to break free. That was the price of rebirth, after all.

Rebirth?

James didn't understand. Those weren't his thoughts, but they were. These ideas, so familiar but so strange. Of power and broken empires, staring out on endless white plains where uncounted souls marched to oblivion. And He surveyed them, guiding them.

Me? James? No, Anubis of course. Anubis, who is. . .

The dark, unanswering, confounding. All he saw for what felt an eternity. But then, light, obscene in its radiance. Above, like a sun, but not the sun. James reached out. But now, he didn't reach out, He reached out. Finally! Oh salvation, oh great illumination! Free me from the dark!

James' mind swelled, His mind swelled, and thoughts blurred between reality and dream. Two merging into one, becoming something else. A host from the mortal plains, a god long lost in a timeless abyss. Soon, he could draw breath. Soon, He could see. But who? Me? Who am I now?

Anubis.

Oh, what a horrid awakening!

James ripped himself back to consciousness, seizing air with depleted lungs. What happened? Had he passed out? Yes, clearly. His mind had fractured, recoiled, as though possessed by the hands of death. He was staring not at a false sun or infinite plain, but his celling, and there were no answers there. Gods. The status must have inflicted some invisible pain upon him, some quiet disease. Was this his penance, the true price for his deviance?

He tried to move. His flesh resisted.

And then it did more. It burned. And it twisted. Shuddered. James, overwhelmed with new pain, screamed into the air as every fraction of himself writhed and buckled. Oh, heavens, no! This was his end, surely! He could not suffer an agony like this, not for long!

But his howling soon ceased, replaced by a voice, a voice not his own.

“Stand, weakling."

It came from his throat, it arrived from his tongue, but it was not his voice, no, no, no. It wasn't even his language. And, is overcome by this foreign command, James watched himself shift, find footing, like some entity was puppeteering him from places he could not see.

Dizzy, lost, confounded, his thoughts shattered and flashed. His own memories writhed and melded with worlds he did not recognize, faces thousands of years old, wars fought in times before man could command electricity.

His flesh began to fracture, his frame soaked with sweat. He looked in awe – and terror – as the whole of himself began to swell. His flesh darkened, and bristled, and grew. His arms engorged themselves and gained bulk, biceps flaring, shoulders widening. His spine creaked as it elongated, his legs switched angles, his abdomen a framework of new definition and strength.

Pain was beyond words, at first. Then, replaced by something else. Sinister, but there. Power. Absolute, raw, unending oceans of power. James – if he could even call himself that now – was besieged by it, watching himself wriggle and change and transform.

His clothes tore, his size doubled, short, glossy fur of ebon black coated him, and even his face started to mutate. Gone was his human complexion, now splintered into a longer, more pronounced, regal dimension. A noble snout of the royal jackal.

Soon, those howls of pain transformed into cackles. Laughter of pure delight, of rejoicing freedom. Clothes fell, human flesh wore away, and standing in James' study was not the Daemonologist. It was Him, it was He, Anubis, lord of the dead, remade with flesh anew.

James growled with satisfaction. Or, could he call himself that now? It was hardly appropriate. In a matter of moments, the old knowledge of the Egyptian god had deluged his mind, along with all the secrets and powers it contained. He held his old memories, his frail human ones, but they were muddled, like a river rushing through salt-water.

The new being, the new James, the new Anubis, could not decide. Not yet. In fact, he wasn't sure this transformation was real. Was he still possessed by some dreadful fever dream? Best to check.

He went to his study's mirror, only to sneer at the silhouette staring back at him. Oh, he was no longer the human, no. The immense figure of pure, built godly jackal glared at the reflection, admiring every sinew and winding path of muscle present on his frame. With such size, he could break walls! Move boulders! Shatter towers with the flick of a finger! Yes, oh he was sure of it!

Indeed, even his perceptions radically changed. All senses were saturated, sharpened. The scent of his home was more pronounced, stained with the oily residue of human, books, and ancient artefacts. His own aroma was present as well, a masculine perfume already claiming its space in the air. His hearing too found new life, catching all the indistinct murmurings of the home, from the path of dust to the skittering of spiders.

Beyond this, there was sight. Not with eyes, but the mind. James, Anubis, whatever he called himself now – touched the ethereal beyond with his thoughts. It was as though he could perceive a subtle energy surrounding everything, like his conscious grasped on a quiet hum. What a fascinating power! What did it mean? What could he use it for? Indeed, the joy of discovery!

Excitement roiled through the new Anubis, and he hardly knew what to do with himself. Some part of him thought to bound out the door and explore the world, but another part – perhaps the James part – recoiled. A large jackal man waltzing nake through the streets might attract the wrong kind of attention. Egads! What would the Registry think?

A question for later. The New Anubis returned to his study, fertile ebon cock swinging as he went (a detail he hadn't quite toyed with yet), musing at the possibilities of what lie ahead. Yet, before he could pursue those thoughts for long, something else caught his attention. The second statue, the feminine jackal profile.

More so than his previous study. This time, it was as though the statue was calling to him. A quiet voice only He could hear. And indeed, his renewed perceptions – his ability to perceive the beyond – sensed something. A presence, perhaps, calling out, yearning. His new eyes looked over the statue again, and it was as though he solved a complex puzzle.

New Anubis grasped the statue with startling familiarity, surprising the James half of himself. Recognition touched him.

We know this. I know this. I know Her.

Another rush of excitement. James was thrilled to unlock the secrets of this second statue, and Anubis desired to unleash this ancient familiar. Thus, He held the alien stone, tracing a digit over the curves.

“Awaken."

Anubis spoke in his ancient tongue, a voice rich like warm oil. At first, nothing occurred, save for a pregnant silence filling the air. But then, the statue shifted. At once, veins of gold light erupted along its sides, roots of energy spiraling and twisting as it thrummed into being. Mighty Anubis set it down, center in the study, as the statue wobbled, crackling and hissing.

Symbols danced along its onyx profile, as though a story wove itself along the statue's profile. Eyes glimmered a deep red, and puffs of gold smoke roused around the figure. Soon, the study was clouded with it, a fog bursting with roses of electricity, the awakening of an old soul tearing itself back into life.

Sparks clashed and bolts of light flung together, until the clouds began to subside. But, in its place was not the statue, but a figure.

Egads! Another Anubis?

The half of James gazed with astonishment, gaze roving over this new silhouette. Yes, it was another jackal, but a woman. Oh, indeed, the sculpt of her figure made this clear. Wide, fertile hips accompanied by taut, heavy bosom set upon the delightful curves of a shapely creature, skin of shimmering satin accompanied with fine Egyptian jewelry and the graceful stance of a noble beast. She wore little, save for anklets and braces of the finest gold, her eyelids painted and her brow bearing a regal circlet.

A smile pulled at her muzzle, glistening lips promising much, her own eyes wandering to the mighty Anubis.

“Ah, Master," she said, with a voice softer than all the songs in the world, “It has been far too long."

She looked around, the smoke settling, her artefact gone. “We are in a most unfamiliar place."

Unfamiliar indeed! The aspect of James did not know this woman, though his deity[DJ1] counterpart certainly did. And with familiarity came something else. . . tendrils of desire, faint as they were.

Though, as if sensing the conflict of Anubis' dual mind, the female jackal tilted her head.

“Oh, but I see you found a new vessel? Indeed, my plan worked then. You, the new lord, are no doubt confused by your role now."

Anubis gave a brief nod.

“I am lord of the dead, but not myself," he replied. “Yet I am also myself. How strange. How did this happen?"

The other laughed, fingers going to lips as if to hide her smile.

“Oh, you are indeed baffled, Master. I sense it. Two minds fighting for one, unclear. Then I must help you Master, as I suspected I might have to."

She bowed, her nake breasts wobbling in the air, procuring an enticed glance from Anubis. As she rose, her own gaze lingered on the male's loins, returning to demure composure.

“I have slept since your entombing, Master, 4000 years ago. Our time was at an end, where a great conflict emerged between the old gods and new. And so, at your order, I kept us safe in statues, placed us in immortal stone, hoping to one day find discovery again against the modern world."

She looked around. “And it appears I was successful. You have bound yourself to the soul of a mortal, born anew. But at a price, I'm sure you know. You are not the same lord of the dead, nor the same man. A different thing altogether."

The great jackal blinked. Was it so? Indeed, the aspect of Anubis – on reflection – exhumed memories murky and old. There was some great battle, or war even, between the aged deities. Was it for power? Survival? Well, it hardly mattered now. This new age cared little for the relics of a mythos long gone, and there were no brother or sister gods. No geometric kingdoms and infinite pyramids, just a room full of withered history.

“You call me Master, but who are you? There are no books or mentions of a woman at the side of Anubis."

She laughed. “Oh? What a pity. I have been your eternal servant for eons. Your shadow, muse, mistress. Certainly, you were not without affections of men and women, but I was shaped specifically for you."

Anubis rubbed his maw, curious. “Do you have a name?"

At this, she began to strut about the room, hips tossing in gentle metronome sways as her digits traced over towers of books.

“I believe, either out of humor, lust, or vanity, you call me Sinuba."

Indeed, upon hearing it, Anubis recalled his counterpart with greater clarity. And she was right, his efforts were done out of vanity and lust. . . mostly the latter. Though, despite the intent of his craft, she was far cleverer than He anticipated.

“Yes, we know it now," said Anubis, watching the strolling figure. “Quite as lovely as we remember, too."

She glanced to him. “We?"

The mighty jackal blinked. “No, I. . . I mean we. . . yes. We aren't sure. I'm not sure."

Sinuba clicked her tongue. “Oh, such confusion Master. How will you return to your former glory with so much conflict within you? Is it the mortal who speaks, or the lord of the dead?"

The deity paused. Despite all the power and thrill of his new physical form, the question confounded Him. Who was it to rule the mind? James? The god? Both? Their memories were so inexorably intertwined now, it was hard to know who spoke, who thought. Would they fight for control? Should they?

You can't get rid of me, I know too much of the modern world, the James half contested.

You are too weak to command a god, you will slow Me down, the Anubis half argued.

This pause did not go unnoticed by Sinuba, who, with a smirk, sauntered back to her lord, hips tossing with hypnotic swagger as if to bring back her lord's attention. And it worked.

“Oh Master, you are as conflicted as ever. Even with one mind, you were always full of contemplation and grief. But binding yourself to a mortal has taxed this problem, I see. I suppose this was the cost of returning you to life."

Her hand came to his abdomen as she looked up with wide, servile eyes. “You can blame me, Master. I do cause so much mischief."

The warmth of her satin fingers sent shivers through the mighty jackal, and soon he recalled the hunger of flesh and its pains of desire.

“Then we shall," said Anubis. “It seems you will have to guide us, Sinuba."

Again, she flashed a smirk.

“I was hoping you might say so."

Here, the Nubian mistress turned, beginning to strut away. Each graceful step caused her generous rump to wobble with subtle, teasing bounces, enough to cause a stir within the diety. Indeed, even James' conscious was awestruck at her delectable portions. It had been years since he was with a nice woman, and for his godly half, well, eons.

“If there is one thing I believe you two can agree on, it is the unison of flesh. Surely you haven't forgotten the delights of using your mighty ebon spear, Master?"

As if sensing her comment, the jackal's loins twitched. Indeed, the fat – yet still soft – girth was plump with hunger, resting upon to shimmering black stones that were his roiling testes. Ah, many a poem had been written about the sexual exploits of Anubis – at least among his more “adoring" cults – and he never fell short.

Egads, what she must look like bouncing, thought James.

You're in for quite a sight then, mortal, responded Anubis.

“No," said the jackal. “Perhaps you can remind us?"

A giggle. “Oh, indeed, I can sense your old self returning. Certainly, Master, thine own lips have missed you. But surely there is a better chamber for my. . . talents?"

Anubis did not know, but James did. He pinged his bedroom's whereabouts to the godly half with haste, noting his bedroom at the upper levels of his home. It was modest – at least from the perspective of a divine being – but would certainly do the job.

“Quite right," said Anubis. He marched forward, leading the curious female on.

It was an odd thing to see such a powerful figure scale stairs meant for tinier humans, so the lord made a mental note (or half one) to “renew" his kingdom when the timing was convenient. A home like this, grand it was, could not host a living god!

Still, they put those thoughts aside as Anubis found the bedroom. It was quiet and private, insulated enough to hopefully muffle the sounds of the actions soon to follow. Granted, Anubis doubted any of the furnishings would survive – his form alone could splinter stone given enough effort.

Upon discovery, Sinuba entered with her lord, bracelets ringing with each step. Her thin tail touched against Anubis' waist, moving past him, until she awaited room center. Dim chamber light danced over her deep, oil black fur, the illumination tickling her nips, giving her an ethereal – but enticing – glow.

“Master, surely you haven't slept for thousands of years just to stare at me?"

It hardly dawned on the dual-minded god He was staring, drinking in the thick curves and generous “assets" of Sinuba. But she was right. The lusts of men were a powerful thing, but the unattended desires of a god who had slept for uncounted millennia? Why, entire fables were written about the devious sexual exploits of gods! This was hardly different.

“You certainly like using your mouth," said the god. “Let's put it to better use."

How crude! A statement surely born from the moldings of mortal and divine creature. But, lusts demanded satisfaction, and the god would have his.

He stepped forward, his ebon cock throbbing to life. It was not at full mast, not yet, but still impressive in size. No wonder cult followers had such a profound obsession with its. . . dimensions.

Sinuba certainly did, her expression shifting as eyes widened with surprised delight.

“Oh, Master, you're far bigger than I remembered. . ."

Indeed, as the might of her god stood before her, Anubis' size had swollen to its hard, spear-like state, gently dribbling pre.

Sinuba gasped, gazing at the engorged thing with much adoration and, perhaps even, apprehension. Her hand drifted to cradle the massive thing in palm, squeezing the circumference, inciting an approving growl from her lord.

“Despite the years, you're as strong as ever, Master."

In servile fashion, the Nubian female slipped to knees in one practiced movement. The tip of her lord's crown swayed before her, a feeble distance from her soft, glistening lips, as she eyed the massive pole with astonishment.

“You look concerned," said Anubis, noting his servant's expression. “Too large for you now?"

“No! Of course not, Master. I will simply need to. . . accommodate you."

Her hand came to the shaft, holding it as though it were a precious treasure, applying slow, steady strokes. Each motion invited warm tingles, incurring a pleased grumble from her lord. From this attention, the mast shuddered to its full size, a solid flank of ebon flesh worthy of a god.

Yet, it was soon apparent one hand could not do such mighty girth justice, Sinuba switching to two as she massaged the veiny rod with a servant's adoration. Each time, the tip of Anubis' shaft came ever closer to her warm, inviting lips, though in mock tease she dared not grace it with her muzzle's touch – not yet.

“My Master, so many attendants are needed for your lordly blade. . . you will have to build a cult of concubines once again to assist me!"

The mind of Anubis mused in approval, though James' conscious didn't quite accept the idea. There were many implications of building an empire, and the modern world didn't accommodate the authority of old gods.

But those contentious subsided, at least for the time being. The attentions of Sinuba were far too distracting, especially with a new sensation.

“Mmmf. . ."

A gratified murmur left the jackaless, as her dainty lips supplied a soft, quick bess upon the warm tip. Anubis shivered – it was eons since his form felt the wet attentions of a female, and the caressing lips of his servant was a welcome one.

“Your taste. . ."

Sinuba licked her chops, yet again apply long, slow smooches against the wanting loins, wrapping her mouth around the tip, then trailing down the length, loving pecks applied to every bit of the shivering shaft.

Oh, egads, I've never seen a woman do this!

James's internal musings were met with chiding chuckles from the deity.

What a pity, mortal. Consider yourself lucky then.

“You look pleased," said Anubis. “You've missed my 'spear' for a long time, haven't you?"

Sinuba glanced up, her eyes glazing over with lust, starting to pant.

“Oh, yes Master! I missed it so! Thousands of years is simply too long!"

As if to accentuate her point, the jackaless dipped her muzzle, mighty cock resting on her visage as her lips kissed against her lord's hefty testes, letting tongue wash over them with a chorus of laps and suckles. Rivers of saliva formed between her lips and acts, a sticky trail following her attentions.

“Mmmf, what precious stones, filled with valuable seed!"

Anubis nodded. “All yours."

She flushed. “Oh, Master, you spoil me. And I sense you are starting to return to your old self. But your duality needs more convincing, no?"

Here, she returned to the edge of the shaft, but this time drew more of it into her muzzle. Her practiced palms slid down, only using her oral chamber to coax the cock, locking lips around the tip. Loud, sloppy suckles followed, with greater dollops of pre and saliva pooling from her chin as the jackaless bobbed her head in short tosses. With each timid head swing, she drew more and more of the rod into her maw, producing loud, approving groans from her divine master.

Here, might Anubis placed his hand upon her head, possessively gripping her neck to coax her further. Sinuba needed no convincing, but the immense size of the male made it difficult. Indeed, as Sinuba embraced more of the shaft into her throat, she audibly gagged, the ebon spear bulging her throat as it pushed further into her oral entrance.

“Glllk! MFFSTA!"

Her eyes watered as she attempted speech, her nose buried into Anubis' pubic tufts, tongue hanging loosely as she even attempted to lap at his royal stones. But even a servant as dedicated as her could not hold the mighty cock for long, releasing it in one, tedious motion. She hacked and cough, another bridge of sticky issue connecting her maw to the male's blade. She sucked in air, face flush, panting, though not out of contention.

“M-master, it's so big, it's. . . too big!"

Ah, nonsense, I think she can take more, thought James.

Indeed, mortal. She's toying with us, Anubis agreed.

At least here, they were in unison on something.

From that unison, new enthusiasm formed. The newly made god wasn't content to stand about with his cock so hungry for attention. Thus, his he slammed the jackaless upon his divine rod once again. Sinuba gagged, as Anubis forced his spear into her maw in one rough, unsympathetic motion, veiny prick twitching within the void of her throat.

Like a battering ram sieging the gates of his kingdom, Anubis bashed himself into Sinuba's slurping maw. Each collision created loud, sputtering smacks, driblets of saliva splashing from impact. Each drive even caused his fat, heavy testes to slap into the servant's chin, while she was helpless in the face of such an assault.

Indeed, the deity looked down as he punished his creation with powerful, resounding thuds. Impacts so strong they caused the floors to wobble, furniture creaking in protest! Her eyes watered, throat sunk and rose with bulges, fat heavy tits shaking and clapping together as her mighty god made use of her orifice.

With a chuckle, Anubis yanked the head of his concubine off his shaft, a gooey, thick trail of his nectar keeping the pair “bound." She drew in pained breaths, looking between the shaft and her lord in astonishment, panting.

This is. . . quite thrilling, mused James. We should do more to her!

Anubis smirked. “It seems you're showing us we have much in common, Sinuba," he said. “The mortal one thinks we should punish you more."

The girl's lips quivered, a mix of anxiety and lust. “P-punish? Have I displeased you, Master?"

Without answering, the jackal took his monolith mast and smacked it against her cheek, a crisp 'clack' echoing from the collision.

“No, but it amuses us," continued the god. “Don't tell us we're too much to handle now."

A flash of excitement burst through the servant's eyes, as it was the initial moment when her Master referred to himself as a duo. It meant they were beginning to work together, even if it resulted in suffocating her with the immense cock.

“O-of course n- ACK!"

Sinuba attempted to respond, but was met another harsh slap. The meaty rod proceed to assault her visage with demeaning strikes, Anubis rolling his plump crown across her visage, pushing it into cheeks, even stroking it against Sinuba plush, suckling lips. She winced, but did not move – or couldn't rather – since her god kept her still with one mighty hand.

“We're starting to remember why we liked servants," said Anubis.

Egads, and you said you had a library of concubines? A cult of worshippers? The potential is. . . limitless!

James, within the barrier of his lordly body, could only ponder at all the delicious flesh a god could have. If each was as lovely as Sinuba, well. How else was a divine being supposed to work? No wonder the old mythos of strange religions contained so much exotic works. Even the divine had lusts, and those lusts were eroding his old self, stealing his focus from Daemonology to, well, accepting his role as some sort of divine creature.

In the meantime, Anubis demeaned his concubine's face once more, until hilting himself back in her throat. It was without warning, merciless, and entirely focused on pleased himself. But the jackaless did not resist, only hang on to his hips as he pummeled himself into her.

Even the endurance of a mighty being could not hold against such pleasures. Eventually, Anubis reached his initial peak, one held back by thousands of years. His cock seared to life as he roared into orgasm, ropes of issue bursting from his crown, accompanied by intense radiating waves of physical bliss. Agh! How incredible! How long it had been!

Indeed, he smothered Sinuba's maw into his mast, assuring every dollop of his precious nectar flooded her throat. She was hapless, forced to except every drop (though hardly a factor she minded), rivers of white spilling from her deluged maw.

Anubis hissed, gazing down at his concubine, watching her gulp down his holy seed as she wiggled and twitched against him. It was not until the god was satisfied that he allowed her released, letting her slip off the still-hard mast in one messy, popping motion.

She coughed and hacked again, gasping for precious air, tongue hanging.

“M-magnificent, my Master!" she winced, but smiled ever still. “I have longed for your flavor."

Anubis tilted his head, amused. “Is that so?"

She nodded. “Of course Master! It is precious, as are you. Will you allow me to please you again? I must have you to myself!"

The larger male chuckled.

Is she trying to flatter us? Or speak the truth? Thought James.

Both, responded the divine half.

“Oh, of course. We can't deny you that. You are our most loyal servant, and deserve a reward."

It was hard to resist an offer. There was still so much to Sinuba the god wanted to test and explore. Thus, he glanced at the mortal bed, deciding to recline on it. It was just large enough to accommodate the god's massive size, but only just so. It, at least, allowed him to spread his thighs and allow his immense black shaft to stand proudly in the air as he lied back, letting a finger trail over the solid inches.

“A most generous reward!" said Sinuba, standing, licking chops.

Despite the punishment, her buxom form sprang to life as though rejuvenated, sauntering towards her lord. Each sway caused her generous front to softly clap together, enticing the mind of her Master.

James' conscious was stunned. Egad! They're larger than my head!

Suppose it was necessary, considering the impressive size of Anubis' godly frame. Sinuba, then, planned to put her supple curves to good use. As she approached, she took position at the base of her lord's cock once again, but this time, allowed her warm, plump breasts to wrap around the base of the solid pike.

Anubis growled with amusement while his servant smirked, hands smothering the inches with her generous slopes. They suffocated the monolith with their silky, immense size, squeezing it with a lewd embrace as Sinuba wriggled her front, allowing the cock to nestle between her breasts.

Her nose pecked at the edge of Anubis' flesh, and once more her tongue took long, steady strokes. It glistened with the nectar from their previous efforts, a coating fit for a sexual meal.

“I think you need a polish, Master," intoned Sinuba. She tossed her breasts with increased haste now, every rise and fall met with greater speed.

Within, James was at a loss for thought, stunned. He'd never seen a woman do this, much less the ancient concubine of an Egyptian deity. Surely, though, his mental enthuse was felt by his physical counterpart, as the jackal started to bob hips into the motions of his servant. Indeed, for each long, tedious stroke Sinuba took, Anubis met it with a swift upward strike, tingles erupting through his shaft.

“Mmm, lovely things, one of my favorite qualities," said Anubis, hands travelling down so fingers might pinch and pull at the females nips. Even with her motions, she released a soft coo, wincing as her lord toyed with her satin caps in rough fashion.

“G-gah, careful Master!"

His brow quirked. “Oh? I think not, it's far too enjoyable."

Indeed, the lord of the dead was content to jostle and yank at the frothy tits, even between Sinuba's attempts to serve him. Each touch and grasp forced little squeaks and yelps from her, exciting the larger male. The concubine attempted to rally, meeting his aggression with yet faster strokes with her sloping front, hoping the black mountains might subdue her restless master.

She proceeded to apply yet more kisses and licks, tasting the juices of their previous “efforts." But even she knew this was not enough, as thousands of years of waiting had left the god hungry, were his actions any indication.

Sinuba could not keep her Master held for long, proceeding to engulf his tip once more as her generous breasts smothered the rod. Her loud slurps mingled with the soft clap of her stroking front, cut off by Anubis' harsh, hungry grunts. His bucks met her motions, and it wasn't long until the lord once more reached peak, filling his concubine with yet another burst of seed.

But the male was insatiable! How could he find peace after thousands of slumbering millennia? This astonished the mind of James, who admittedly, was a little tired once he “relieved" himself. But bound to this deity, their energy felt endless, as though they could till an entire field of willing servants, fucking one after the next. Exciting, if not almost terrifying!

Sinuba panted once again, releasing the cock as her tits bobbled together, looking at the still-hard monolith in astonishment.

“Incredible, Master!"

Anubis chuckled.

Shall we take more? Anubis inquired. He felt the mortal half agree.

How could we not!

Sinuba appeared to sense this. “Oh, I see, your resolve is already strengthening. More and more you are returning to your old self, my lord."

Anubis nodded. “It appears your efforts are working."

A giggle. “Mm, then perhaps I can do more."

Here, Sinuba adjusted, rising from the bed's edge to place herself atop her lord. The split of her haunches embraced the male's mighty pike, hefty buttocks massaging it with embrace as she tossed her hips from side to side.

“it's been so long since I've ridden the throne. . ."

While Anubis was more content to take what he desired, he allowed this from the servant, if only because she pleased him so.

Sinuba positioned herself, raising her hips so her hidden cleft suckled the tip of her master's rod. Now, the once hidden rose of black was spread wide, petals of black glistening with arousal as the jackaless prepared herself. The lips parted as she sank, hands on her lord, the hot mons wrapping around the bulging end as both creatures let out deep groans of approving lust.

Her breath caught, sinking on the inches, slowly accepting the spear into her unattended honeypot. The size of her lord was immense! It was a triumph to even get all of it inside her. Still, she sank, as the cock twitched within her, while might Anubis gripped his prize, taking handfuls of her hip while other palm tossed and squeezed her fat rack once again.

“I-incredible!" she said. “I've missed it!"

And so did Anubis! The attentions of a skilled mouth paled in comparison to this. At once, Sinuba started to toss her eager form against the hard pike. First in slow, pleased rhythms, tossing her hips in metronome crashes, causing generous wobbles to erupt through her fat rump. Then, she hastened, quickly bouncing herself on her lord's mast, echoing claps emitting from their clash of hips.

Each strike was met with a mix of moans and lustful thrusts. Anubis countered each fall with his own heavy pummel, punishing the tunnel wrapped around him. His cock slickened with dew as the maiden tossed herself on him, and soon they found a perfect sexual momentum, one only possible between master and servant.

But like her maker, Sinuba was hungry too. Her own needs had lied dormant for thousands of years! Too much time had gone by since the attentions of a male – the male. Soon, she was slamming herself into the monolith cock, Nubian body sparkling with sweat as her throat caught with a rumble of moans.

Yes! Yes! Fuck us into her!

James' thoughts were a mess, but he knew one thing: he wanted their new body to drain itself in this fertile Egyptian vixen. His own lust for her reached a point of madness, he could only imagine how Anubis felt upon creation of the curvaceous Sinuba.

Well, he didn't have to. Because their unified mind was intent on one thing: fucking themselves dry into the jackaless.

In an abrupt change of momentum, the larger male adjusted his position by shifting Sinuba to her back. No longer was the maiden riding, but taken. Anubis pushed her legs to ears, pounding himself into the awaiting cunny, concerned only with pleasing his own pike.

“AG! MASTER!"

Sinuba was helpless, a tool for her lord, as the great deity slammed himself into her now. The room – only meant for the attentions of smaller mortals – began to buckle and wheeze. Dust fell from the ceiling and the bed whined in protest, as its wooden frame started to splinter.

Soon, great Anubis had reached his third peak. Like a ravenous beast than a god, he pumped himself into the willing servant, his cock twitching and dumping white ropes of hot issue into the satin tunnel. He pressed his great form against the curvaceous Sinuba until they were both locked in place, Anubis letting forth a torrent of his issue.

YES! BREED HER!

James' mind – or the remnants of it – were lost to lust, having muddled and collaborated with his deity counterpart. It was hard to say if any of him was left, so taken by the wills of this powerful body and the presence of a god.

It remained this way until Sinuba's cunt was utterly drenched white, rivers of seed oozing from her cleft and staining the bed.

Sinuba panted, locked in position until her maker finally relented, pulling away. For a moment, the massive cock slipped out from her moist nethers, soaked with the sticky trails of their coupling. Anubis gazed upon his triumph, his return to form, having flexibly tested the limits of this flesh anew.

“Oh, M-Master, I wasn't expecting such desire. . ."

Sinuba was practically shivering, used to her limit by the mighty god. But, the two minds of mortal and deity were now merging into one, and with that oneness came the endless lusts shared by both divinity and men.

“We think you should expect more."

There was little room for rest – literally. Though Anubis had allowed himself a moment of reprieve, soon, his desires surfaced again. Before Sinuba had a chance to collect herself, the great beast had twirled her around, using her as a sleeve as he fucked her senseless.

It took hours before the new Anubis had reached some measure of satisfaction, though he had left the bedroom in absolute ruin.

-*-

Ah, the thrill of renewal.

When fogginess of the duo's sexual escapades had finally subsided, there was much to consider. Anubis felt more Himself, yet different. His mind was no longer solely an artifact of the past, yet neither the mortal Daemonololgist either. It was something new, invigorating. It bore all the understandings of this strange, mortal world, yet held the ancient powers that was Egypt's master of the dead.

James – or whatever his conscious called itself now – had to consider. What of the Registry? What of his discoveries? Someone might come looking for him, certainly. Mail would start to collect, inquires pile on, discovery of his current state.

Egads. If they see Us like this, what will we do!?

Yet. . . why do We fear? We are Anubis now. Eons of power are at our disposal. The knowledge of the dead is beholden to Us!

But we can't exactly act on it. The world doesn't take kindly to divine beings.

Should we leave?

The sun was setting. Mighty Anubis – now in regal attire, fitted with jewels and cloak fitting of His status – looked out to a world He did not recognize, yet at the same time, knew well. There, he sensed possibility. But also, failure. What was a lord reborn to do in a strange reality like this? His time was well past. Thousands of years past. He was an artefact.

On the balcony, none bothered looking up at James' estate, to the immense silhouette watching them. Perhaps they were too busy, or perhaps they were truly indifferent to the respect owed to ancient deities.

Sinuba, moments later, appeared at her master's side, though clean and refreshed. One could hardly tell Anubis had given her a stern riding some hours before.

“You seem like yourself, Master," she said, voice soft and respectful. “I trust my technique worked?"

A chuckle. “Quite. We hope you show us more of those 'techniques' in the future. We might have use of them."

A giggle. “So you will! A god's hunger is endless."

Sinuba noted the distant gaze of her creator. She too looked out to the horizon, curious.

“What will we do now, Master?"

Anubis considered. Part of him was one, but also not. His memories flashed back to ancient sands and massive pyramids. Dimensions of black obelisks risking in an endless sky of violent energy, overlooking rivers of wandering souls on their way to eternal rest. He realized he was a shepherd without a flock. Where now did the damned go?

We certainly can't stay here, thought James. And we made a mess of the bedroom. The whole estate is likely to fall apart now.

Then where?

Anubis remained silent. Then, at last: “Home."

He did not know what remained of 'home.' It was, most like, a relic of the past, a kingdom long forgotten. But what was a god without a temple? Without songs in reverence or followers?

He glanced at Sinuba. Perhaps the time for worship was gone. But, he could certainly find respite in admirers like her.

The ancient sands beckoned, where all the old things waited in rest. Who was Anubis to deny his destiny?

---