The Mummy's Bracelet, pt. 1 (Patreon)

Clint didn’t know why he took it.  In his twenty three years of life, the young man had never stolen anything larger than a piece of candy, let alone a priceless artifact.  He’d been filing out of the large auditorium lecture hall with the other hundred or so students and it had just been sitting there on the table.  The professor’s back was turned, and in all the hurried jostling no one would be able to tell who swiped it.  Almost before he’d completed the thought, he was stuffing it in his bag and hurrying out of the building, careful to stay within the mass of swarming students hurrying to their next class.  

He’d laughed then, but as he sat and turned the ornate, golden cuff over in his hands, he wasn’t so sure it had been a good idea.  With the rush of adrenaline long gone, it occurred to him exactly how much trouble he could get into if anyone found out.  Best case scenario he’d be kicked out of the school entirely; worst case scenario he was looking at jail time.  He wasn’t some freshman anymore who could plead the ignorance of youth.  This was the first year of his grad program and he was supposed to know better.  

And then there was the legend of the bracelet itself.  This was the first time all semester that Clint had actually been able to stay awake in the normally boring class.  It was a survey of ancient history, which was appropriate since each lecture usually felt like a millennia of its own.  But today, while discussing ancient Egypt, Professor Howard sounded like he was describing a horror film.  Instead of the usual tales of pharaohs and gods, he told the legend of Ankhenaat, a powerful and supposedly cursed priestess.  As Professor Howard told it, she was the head of a heretical cult that worshipped outlawed gods and practiced forbidden rituals.  Ankhenaat was supposed to have a beauty that rivaled Cleopatra, and it was said that she would suck the life force from the sacrificial men brought before her and use that energy in her unholy rites.  She was part vampire and part succubus, surrounding herself with a growing harem of enslaved men that did her bidding.  

The men acted as her guards, laborers, and batteries for whenever she needed a quick recharge.  The legends said that her power grew until it rivaled that of the pharaoh himself.  After what Clint imagined as a cinematically epic battle, the pharaoh was able to stop her just as she was performing a particularly foul ceremony.  Afterwards Ankhenaat was mummified and buried in an unmarked tomb far in the desert.  Her name was forbidden to speak and was supposed to have been struck from any records, the pharaoh hoping that she would be lost to time.  

But as is the way with these things, she lingered.  Though they were few and far between, references to her cult and the nameless goddess they worshipped remained.  Someone with as much power as she had wasn’t that easy to simply erase.  Given enough time, someone eventually tracked down her tomb and uncovered what remained, including the bracelet that Clint was turning over in his rough palms.  Professor Howard said there was no record of what happened to her body, but rumors of her cult still existed to this day.  

It was all too much for the scrappy young man to resist.  Powerful pharaohs, beautiful women, monsters, cults, ancient curses; it was everything his adolescent self would have drooled over.  After what felt like an endless monotony of boring class after boring class, this was the equivalent of picking up a Conan comic.  When Clint had signed up for the graduate program in History, he pictured himself as a tomb raiding adventurer.  Keeping his athletic body glued to a seat all day was torture.  Only his nightly workouts and various rec leagues kept him sane.  He’d been second guessing why he’d even signed up in the first place.  His grades had been high enough during undergrad that the university offered him an assistantship for grad school and he’d taken it without thinking it through.  Part of him related to what Ankhenaat must have felt like as a mummy; bored and trapped with nowhere to go.  

He sighed wistfully as he thought about what it would have been like to be a member of her cult.  The thought of constantly getting laid by a gorgeous idol of a woman didn’t seem terrible, even if he did have to share.  Clint wasn’t thrilled by the idea of being kept around a bunch of other naked men, but he had nothing to be ashamed of.  In a contest, he’d put his fat seven inches up against most other guys any day of the week.  He might not be the most handsome, but he knew how to leave a woman satisfied.  Clint was well aware that he wasn’t a raving beauty, but the fit young man knew he looked good enough.  He’d played sports his entire life, particularly wrestling, and his strapping, 5’9” frame was covered in solid muscle.  He had rough facial features under his short, chocolate brown hair that he kept covered in a manicured stubble.  His jaw was wide and strong, but his brow protruded farther than most and he had a prominent beak of a nose that seemed too large for his face.  He wasn’t ugly so much as he was rough around the edges, a perfect complement to his rugged build.  Like his face, Clint’s burly pecs, ripped arms, and flat stomach were all covered in a light coating of dark brown fur that spread down to his thick, solid quads, ample rear, and long, heavy package.  He was more stocky than lean, built for tossing men around and pinning them to the ground.

“Could’a shown her a thing or two,” he muttered to himself, his thick cock swelling at the thought.  “Bet she was into some weird shit in bed….sure had strange taste in jewelry…” 

Clint leaned in close to inspect the intricate carvings that lined the golden cuff.  They didn’t look like classic egyptian hieroglyphics.  Instead, the lines were fluid and curved, resembling growing lichen more than formal pictographs.  The standard symbols were also missing.  There were no ankhs or scarabs anywhere in sight.  In the middle sat a bizarre creature that looked like a mix between an insect and a fish carved from vibrant lapis lazuli.  The deep blues and golds of the stone seemed to swirl as Clint stared at it, while the crimson carnelian gems that made up its many eyes almost glowed with an internal iridescence.  He wasn’t a jewelry guy, but even he had to admit that it was striking.  Though it was thousands of years old, the cuff looked like it could have been made that day.  

Clint didn’t know what he was thinking when he slid it over his thick wrist.  One minute he’d been examining it, and the next he had a sudden urge to see what it looked like on his arm.  The metal was cool to the touch, almost like ice.  He regretted it immediately.  Clint tried to slide it back off as his skin felt like it was being frostbitten underneath, but the cuff was stuck in place.  

“Fuck!  Fuck!”  Clint cursed as he got up to try and find something to grease his arm with.  “I can’t walk around with this thing stuck to my goddamn arrrrrrggghh!”  The burly young man doubled over, blinded by pain.  He felt like he’d just been hit in the back of the head with a two by four.  It was intense enough to bring him to his knees, the room spinning around him.  

A cacophony of unseen voices rang in his ears, shouting in hoarse, guttural bursts that he didn’t understand.  There was a sharp burst of pain whenever the voices would stop, as if it was expecting some kind of response that Clint couldn’t provide.  

“Wwwwhhhooooo….” the voices gradually melded into one as the unfamiliar language started to make sense.  Clint didn’t know if the disembodied voice was speaking english, or if he could somehow now understand whatever language they’d been speaking.  “Who wears my bracelet,” it demanded.  

Clint tried to blink the stars from his dazed vision.  He felt like he’d been on the receiving end of a piledriver straight into the ground.  “Who...who are you?  Is someone here?”  He staggered upright and looked around his empty apartment.  It was possible that his roommate Justin had snuck in without him knowing, but the voice didn’t sound like any he’d ever heard come out of his friend.  “What are you taaaarrrgghh!”  Clint’s vision sparked again, his body tensing under another wave of pain.  

“You address your queen,” the voice hissed, growing more coherent.  “How did you come to possess my bracelet?”  

“I...I took it from Professor Howard!” Clint said quickly, still not sure who, or what, he was speaking to.  It felt like things were crawling under his skin, and his body rocked back and forth, as though he’d spent the day out in the ocean and his muscles were still reacting to the tides. He gasped and tensed again as an unseen hand seemed to grip the back of his skull, holding his head in place.  His eyes went wide and there was a rushing sensation of falling before the spectral hand let go. 

“No!  No!  You fool!”  Clint’s body vibrated from the voice’s fury.  “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”  

“No!  I don’t!  I didn’t mean to do anything!”  He clawed at the cuff again, trying to pry it from his arm, but the thin gold felt like iron.  “What...what are you?!”  

Clint’s vision blurred and the room around him faded into darkness.  His eyes were open, but he could barely see his own hand in front of his face.  Gradually, flickering lights appeared at the edges of his vision, and the young man found himself looking at a beautiful woman in a torch lit chamber.  She had long, jet black hair and pale, alabaster skin.  Her form was lithe and curvy, with a face unlike anything Clint had ever seen.  Up until now, the young man thought he knew what a gorgeous woman looked like, but he quickly realized he’d been wrong.  Her eyes smoldered like dark suns and her crimson lips suggested a passionate embrace and a viper’s strike all at the same time.

“Are...are you Ankhenaat?”  Clint stammered, wondering if he’d passed out after all.  

She cocked her head slightly as she looked at Clint, piercing him with her burning eyes.  “You will call me Priestess.  Or Queen.”  Clint gasped when she was suddenly inches from him, her supple bosom nearly pressing against his strong chest.  He hadn’t actually seen her move.  “And who are you that you dared to take what is mine?”  

He opened his mouth to speak, but her lips were on top of his own before he could make a sound.  Any pleasure the surprised young man felt was short lived.  Her slender arms were superhumanly strong, holding him like a vice.  He tried to pull his face away, but she moved with him, preventing him from coming up for air.  Clint started to feel like he was suffocating as she pressed tighter and tighter against him.  Her tongue in his mouth felt like it was traveling down the back of his throat, like she was climbing inside him.  He started jerking and spasming as an icy chill ran down his paralyzed body.  It felt as if thousands of insects were crawling under his skin, burrowing deeper and deeper.  

“Gaaah!”  Clint gasped for air as his vision cleared.  He was looking back out on his apartment.  He had no idea how long he’d been standing there, but he was sore and covered in sweat, like he’d been working out for hours.  Afraid to move, he stood in place, staring in horror at the cuff that was still affixed to his wrist.  “I need to feed.”  

Clint started to panic when he heard the unbidden words leave his mouth.  He tried to move, but he couldn’t.  He could still feel everything, only his body wouldn’t respond.  He heard himself laugh as he tried to will a foot forward.  

“Foolish little man.”  Clint heard his own voice with his ears, but Ankhenaat’s sultry whisper in his head.  “You may have trapped me in this hideous shell for now, but soon I will be free again.”  

He found himself looking down at his hands, a wave of disgust rippling through him as he pawed at his t-shirt and jeans.  He peeled out of the tight shirt and tossed it aside, dropping his jeans and boxers as he made his way towards the bathroom.  Clint could feel the unfamiliar sway to his hips as he sauntered seductively instead of his usual lumber.  

“Oh, but you are a beast,” he sighed, sounding frustrated as he prodded his firm, hairy pecs and hefted his heavy package.  “What were you thinking earlier?  That you’d show me a thing or two?”  Clint heard himself laugh again at the stab of fear her words brought.  “I know all there is to know about you, boy.  You would have been a snack, living outside with the other animals.”  Clint’s fear was drowned out by the sudden surge of her white hot rage.  “After all these years...to be brought back in....this…” he spat, staring at himself in the mirror.  “Still...I’m not at full strength, but that doesn’t mean there can’t be some improvements.”  

Clint didn’t like the sound of that, or the strange words that began leaving his mouth.  She was chanting under her breath, and with each successive word, Clint felt a growing tingling.  A pins-and-needles numbness spread down from the top of his head to the bottoms of his feet.  There was a moment of shock, then horror, as Clint watched all of the hair south of his eyebrows suddenly vanish.  In an instant, the furry stud was baby smooth.  

Clint wanted to scream at the sight of his hairless chest and bald face. He almost didn’t recognize himself as he watched the Priestess turn his body in front of the mirror, shuddering when his hands ran along his bare flesh. His skin hadn’t just lost its layer of prickly hairs, it had lost its weathered toughness, becoming soft and supple. 

The only remotely positive result for Clint was how much larger the lack of hair made his heavy package look, but even then he didn’t like the way his hijacked eyes lingered on it. 

“It’s a...start…” he heard himself pant, suddenly feeling as if he’d been working out for hours without eating for days. His body lurched forward, the burly arms resting against the counter for support as a pang of hunger nearly sent him to his knees. Trapped or not, Clint felt the wracking pain just as much as the ancient entity who’d hijacked his body.  “Need...to...feed.  Need to…”  Clint felt Ankhenaat’s attention snap towards the door. Like a spider sensing vibrations in its web, he could feel her sniffing out nearby prey. It was faint, but there was a slight pulse growing closer. It wasn’t until he heard the door click open that Clint realized the source of the vibrations, and by then it was already too late. 

“Yo, dickbag! You home?”

Clint pleaded with the voice in his head as he heard his roommate Justin walk in.  “Not him!  I’ll help you find someone else,” he silently begged, but the Priestess already had the other young man in her sights. Clint found his naked, now-hairless body sauntering casually out of the bathroom.  Even his own terrified resolve waned when he saw his friend standing in front of the refrigerator with his broad back turned.  Justin’s tall, ripped frame was like a beacon.  The blonde man’s well muscled back hung out of the baggy muscle shirt he wore, still damp with sweat from the gym.  Clint’s hungry eyes traveled down to the large, solid globes pushing out the back of Justin’s mesh gym shorts while the oblivious man downed a protein shake.  

All around his friend, Clint saw swirling bands of vibrant energy.  Hues of various colors flowed around Justin in a psychedelic pattern, with a bright, glowing red ball centered just below his waist.  Clint felt Ankhenaat zero in on the crimson illumination as his friend turned around.  

“Dude, the gym was fuckin’ paaaahhhhh!  What the fuck?!”  Justin’s eyes went wide with surprise when he turned around and saw the smooth, naked Clint standing behind him.  His chiseled face went red with embarrassment as he looked the other man up and down, and then quickly away, laughing awkwardly.  “Did...did you shave?”  Clint stayed silent as he stepped within arms reach, sniffing the air.  “Uh...dude?  Are you high?”  

Clint’s head cocked, his eyes lingering on the visible bulge in Justin’s shorts.  He could sense Ankhenaat searching his memories again for all the times he’d seen his athletic roommate naked as her hunger grew.  “You’ll do,” he heard her say, his voice coming out in a hungry snarl.  

Though he stood nearly a head taller than Clint, Justin took a slow step back.  “Do….what, exactly?”  He finally met his friend’s piercing gaze and Clint felt the jaws of the trap slam shut.  The bright bands of energy started drifting towards his own body as Justin fell under Ankhenaat’s sway.  

“Whatever I want,” Ankhenaat said with Clint’s gentle voice while a stolen hand drifted up to one of Justin’s prominent pecs, never breaking his friend’s gaze.  “Isn’t that right?”  

He could feel Justin trembling against his palm and see the struggle in the other man’s sparkling blue eyes.  He licked his lips nervously, open and closing his mouth several times without speaking.  “Ye...yeah, yeah, of course,” he finally said eagerly.  

“Oh good….I’m soooo hungry,” Clint heard himself pout, wrapping both arms around Justin’s trim waist and resting his head on his friend’s chest.  The trapped man couldn’t even attempt to struggle.  He was humiliated at the thought of his naked body pressing against his friend’s while his hands slid up under the back of Justin’s shirt, but her hunger was overpowering.  He wanted to scream a warning when Justin’s hands started stroking him back, to do anything other than start lifting the other man’s shirt.  Clint could feel his body vibrating in response to what was happening, his friend falling deeper and deeper under the priestess’s control.  

“Clint...man...what...what’re we doing…” Justin gasped, his large, exposed chest heaving.  

“You will address me as ‘my queen’,” Clint’s voice hissed as his hand slid inside the front of Justin’s shorts and underwear to roughly grab the other man’s hardening cock.  

‘M...my queen!” Justin yelped in pain as his package was twisted.  Clint was mortified at the sensation of his friend’s warm cock in his hand while being called a queen, but Ankhenaat swelled with pride.  

“That’s better,” he purred, pushing down the remains of Justin’s clothing.  He took a step back and watched the other man’s long, thick cock swell to full mast.  The tall man’s sculpted body, with it’s light coating of hair, radiated a masculine power that Clint had never noticed before.  “You should be honored,” he said.  “You are the first of your generation to serve me.”  Clint’s solid arms spread wide to let Justin get a full look at his naked body.  He could see that his friend’s eyes were glassy and glazed over as Justin looked down towards his waist.  Ankhenaat followed, noticing Clint’s fat, aching cock for the first time.  “All these years,” he sighed to himself, “and I’m reduced to this brutish form.”  His tone was one of pure disgust as he looked back up at Justin.  “Well?  What are you waiting for?  Your queen needs you.”  

The utter lack of hesitation told Clint exactly how far under the priestess’s spell Justin had fallen.  In a flash the straight blonde stud was on his knees with Clint’s pulsing cock filling his mouth.  Clint’s head fell back on his broad shoulders as the priestess moaned and fed.  “YYYYeeeesssssss,” he hissed as more of Justin’s energy flowed into his stolen body.  The blonde man’s hands gripped and rubbed Clint’s smooth, round cheeks as he eagerly sucked away.  

“Dude...your skin is so soft…” he whimpered as he took a breath, rubbing his face along Clint’s slick rod.  

“I told you to address me as your queen.”  His voice came out in a hiss as Clint found himself reaching down to grab Justin’s neck.  He felt a tingling in his palm and saw a shocked look on his friend’s face.  Clint’s fears were confirmed when Justin opened his mouth.  Though his friend was clearly talking, or trying to, he only managed to make a loud exhaling sound.  “Servants shouldn’t speak,” he said, guiding Justin back to his feet.  Clint’s hand once again wrapped around his friend’s throbbing cock, eliciting a silent gasp as he gently stroked.  “Come,” he said, pulling the confused stud along behind him to his room.  

Clint could feel Ankhenaat’s disgust at the sight of the piles of dirty laundry surrounding his messy bed.  “I used to have a palace,” he said flatly, shoving Justin down onto the mattress before climbing on top of him.  He leaned in close, his face hovering inches from his mute friend.  “I need you inside me for this to work,” he whispered.  

Clint braced himself for the pain as he felt himself slide back and down onto Justin’s waiting pole.  His strong fingers clutched at the other man’s washboards stomach, any pain he felt entirely overwhelmed by the blissful sating of the gnawing hunger.  Justin mouthed silent words up at him while clutching Clint’s meaty thighs and the captive man experienced new levels of torment.  Gazing down at his friend’s desperately lustful eyes while he gyrated on Justin’s lap brought him pleasure like he’d never experienced before.  He knew it was stolen, just like his friend’s deep voice, but that didn’t make it any less intense.  Clint was moaning along with the priestess as Justin split him open.  He was humiliated at the thought of his buff, hairless frame writhing on the end of another man’s dick, but he was more terrified by the flashes he saw of himself as a gorgeous, buxom priestess instead of a built, muscular man.  

Clint folded his thick arms behind his head and flexed his bulging pecs, rocking back and forth and causing Justin to let out a series of breathy moans.  He didn’t know anymore if his friend still saw him as a man or as the image of the priestess, but he doubted that it would have mattered.  Justin’s eyes were no longer bright and sparkling, but flat and glazed.  Even being stripped of his voice didn’t seem to bother the fit young man.  The only thing he cared about at the moment was pleasing his queen.  

“More...MORE…” Clint bellowed, slamming his plump cheeks up and down so hard the bed threatened to shake off the frame.  Without warning, he felt Justin seize up and go stiff beneath him just before a warm, wet stream hit his insides.  His blonde friend screamed in wordless ecstasy as he filled Clint with more than just his cum.  The crimson glow had continued to grow brighter and brighter and now started filling the hairless muscle man.  He felt the priestess purr in contented satisfaction as he watched his own body started to glow softly.  

Clint slid off Justin’s lap and lumbered over to his mirror, admiring the subtle radiance that only he could see.  His cock ached for release with a new kind of hunger that seemed to take Ankhenaat by surprise.  “I never realized how strong the forces that drove you beasts really were,” Clint said, looking down at his throbbing pole before turning back to the bed.  

“You.  Boy.  Kneel before your queen.”  He motioned for Justin to come and kneel in front of him.  The addled blonde struggled upright, barely making it over to the stocky man before falling to his knees.  Clint felt another stab of guilt watching his friend mouth futile words.  Now that the hunger had lost some of its edge, there was more room for terror.  He didn’t know what was more horrifying, the fact that he’d just been fucked by his friend, or that the priestess had effortlessly stripped Justin of his voice the way she’d stripped Clint of his body hair.  He told himself it was just her influence, but as he looked down at Justin’s chiseled, confused face, he no longer viewed the other man as a friend, but as prey.  “It will be hours before I can feed from you again, but you can serve your mistress in other ways.”  Clint turned and picked up a pair of his dirty boxers from the floor, holding them at arm’s length between thumb and forefinger before dropping them in disgust.  “I need attire fit for a queen.  You will get this for me, yes?”  

Justin started to silently mouth the words, stopping and nodding when he realized no sound was coming out.  He leaned into Clint’s palm like a cat being scratched when the possessed man reached down and stroked the side of his face.  

“Good.  Go.  Hurry back.”  Clint said, waving dismissively.  He felt another surge of unfamiliar lust as he watched the naked, muscular viking of a man hurry from the room.  He thought back to all of the times he’d seen his friend naked over the years, and how he never once imagined that he’d know what it felt like to have Justin’s long, thick cock inside of him.  

“Had you been in my temple, you would have known it daily,” Clint said to himself as the priestess read his captive thoughts and used his voice to speak.  He had a flash of foreign memory and saw a room full of naked men in the midst of carnal ecstasy.  The flickering torch light from the sputtering sconces on the stone walls made it seem as if the men were one, single mass of writhing flesh.  “Fruit needs to ripen.  Those deemed unworthy for feeding were used to prepare those that were.”  

Clint looked around his room in disgust again.  He was starting to have a hard time distinguishing his own feelings from those of the priestess.  “Brought back in the body of a beast…” he sighed, running his hands over his smooth, firm pecs and down his flat stomach.  Already his soft, hairless skin was starting to feel normal.  The thought of curly hairs rubbing against the palm that drifted towards the still-solid cock standing out from between his meaty thighs seemed ridiculous.  His hand jerked away just before making contact.  “Let’s see if we can’t burn off some more of this energy.”  

Like his altered skin, the new swaying motion to Clint’s hips as the stocky man walked stood out less and less.  He could feel his plump cheeks shifting seductively from his slithering new strut and could hear the priestess’s laughter in his thoughts as he tried to fight against it.  “You should be thanking me,” Clint said as he stared at himself in the mirror.  There was another swell of revulsion as his eyes traveled up and down his naked reflection before eventually settling on his face.  He became hyper aware of his every flaw, no longer thinking of his looks as ruggedly handsome, but as brutishly ugly.  His jaw was too wide and his nose was too long.  His mountainous brow was massive, while his lips were thin and shapeless.  

A familiar tingle crept up his spine and over his face, his cock softening slightly as the intensity grew.  His vision tunnelled, the room around him growing dim.  A sensation of warmth, of flushed skin, spread up from his neck just as his face started to change.  The captive young man watched his wide jaw soften, losing its harsh, square shape and adopting a curving oval.  His thin mouth inflated while his jagged beak pulled inwards, leaving him with a set of thick, full crimson lips beneath a tiny button nose.  The prominent, sloping brow drew back, his hairline dropping further towards his now-seductive eyes as his buzzed hair thickened and grew until the chocolate locks were nearly touching his broad shoulders.  

Staring at the stranger in the mirror, Clint would have screamed had he been able.  He longed for his rough features.  A sloping brow and a big nose were infinitely preferable to the soft, androgynous face before him.  He wasn’t rugged, or masculine, or any other version of handsome.  He was pretty.  

“Even a temporary home needs a personal touch,” Clint sighed, tossing his lengthened hair and pursing his altered lips.  The contrast between the large, flexing biceps and his softened facial features as he reached up to pull his hair back was more than the young man could bear.  He retreated into a far corner of his co-opted mind in shock, laughing hysterically at the sight of the flowing locks on his scalp, but the bare skin on his chest and armpits.  

Ankhenaat was content to let him hide as she inspected the shower, ripping the knowledge of its usage from Clint’s memories.  “I even have to bathe myself…” The young man’s voice dripped with borrowed frustration as he turned the handles and stepped inside.  If he hadn’t already been pushed over the edge, the warm water traveling unobstructed down his bare, muscled flesh, coupled with the foreign sensation of long, wet hair resting against his thick neck would have done it.  Despite her frustration, the priestess seemed amused by the modern plumbing.  At least until she stepped out and realized that there were no servant men to dry her.  Clint looked at the towel hanging on the wall with disdain and walked, dripping, out into the apartment.  A quick flash of embarrassment managed to reach the stocky man as he walked over to the large glass door that led to their balcony and slid it open.  “Let them gaze upon their future queen,” he said to himself as he thought about how many neighbors could see his solid body standing there fully exposed as the afternoon air dried him off.  He closed his eyes, feeling Ankhenaat’s contentment at the afternoon sun beating down on her stolen skin until Justin arrived home.