From the Vaults: The Mummy's Bracelet

*** Since March is a 5 Monday Month, I'm dusting off a Creature Feature that was posted in a couple parts all the way back in 2018.  Here's the full text in one spot.  Enjoy! ***

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.

************

The blonde giant practically burst through the doors, his arms laden with shopping bags.  Clint felt another stab of guilt looking at his friend in nothing but a baggy tank-top, gym shorts and flip flops.  In his haste, Justin clearly hadn’t put any underwear on as Clint could clearly see his friend’s thick member outlined and bouncing against the shorts.  He could only imagine what the people at the store had thought watching the mute muscle man frantically race through the aisles.

“You were quick.  Good,” Clint said flatly as Justin practically tripped over himself in his haste to kneel at his feet.  He stroked a strong finger along one of his friend’s prominent cheekbones and felt the other man shiver.  “You’re still learning, so you won’t be punished,” he said gently as the finger became his entire hand, roughly clutching Justin’s face.  There was a tingling in his palm that terrified Clint as he thought of what Ankhenaat might do to his friend next.  “You should never be clothed in your queen’s presence.”

Justin looked pained, not from Clint’s strong grip, but from the thought of disappointing his mistress.  The blonde man’s powerful arms inflated as he grabbed his shirt and literally tore it from his body before doing the same to his shorts, stripping himself bare without standing back up.

“Much better,” Clint purred, the tingling in his hand subsiding.  His eyes lingered on Justin’s prominent pecs and heavy package, and if his friend noticed his altered face he gave no indication as he stared back up at him with eager, desperate eyes.  “So what did you bring me?”

Justin scrambled to his feet and ran over to the bags, dumping them out on the table.  Clint didn’t think his heart could sink any further until he saw the piles of silk and lace.  Justin had truly purchased clothing fit for a queen, just not one stuck in a man’s body.

Clint held up a pair of black lace panties that looked impossibly small in his meaty grip.  He inspected the small garment before dropping it and picking up a silk top with spaghetti straps that was cut off at the midsection.  The real Clint was mortified at the thought of his buff, broad body in the ill fitting clothing, but Ankhenaat seemed pleased.  “You did well,” Clint said, watching Justin swell with pride.  His friend’s eyes were glued to him as he rummaged through the clothing, eventually grabbing the lace underwear he’d picked up earlier.

The trapped young man fought harder than ever to stop himself from sliding the frilly garment up his wide thighs, but it was useless.  All he could do was feel wave after wave of humiliation as his thick cock and heavy balls spilled out the side.  The fact that Justin was staring hungrily at him the whole time just made it worse.

“This won’t do,” Clint said, frowning as he looked down at his exposed package.  There was no warning for the man trapped inside, just a slight tingling.  He watched in horror as his thick cock and heavy balls started drawing upwards.  Inch by inch they crept towards the silk underwear, eventually disappearing inside it.  Clint screamed at the monster who’d taken over his body while the bulging underwear gradually settled, barely pushing out around the tiny nub that had once been his meaty package.

“Thaaaaaat’s better,” he sighed contentedly.  “Such a useless and cumbersome appendage.”  Ankenaat laughed at Clint’s terrified shock.  The trapped young man couldn’t believe how different it felt to walk without the weight of his large pride and joy between his legs as he returned to the bed and grabbed the silk top.  He pulled it on, but instead of draping seductively over lithe shoulders as the priestess imagined, it was plastered across his prominent pecs and wide torso.  He looked at his reflection with disdain and focused again.

Clint felt a twinge, then a stab of pain from his midsection.  It felt like he was being squeezed in a vice as his waist started to pinch slightly inwards.  Bit by bit, his torso started to taper.  He wasn’t losing muscle exactly, but rearranging it.  His pecs seemed to push out further and his hips appeared to widen as the priestess attempted to reclaim her hourglass figure.  In the end, all she succeeded in doing was leaving Clint with a set of huge, round pecs and an ass that had inflated from the extra muscle being forced downwards on top of it.  The top now hung loose around his almost comically small waist, but it was far from the look she was going for.

“Need...to feed…” Clint growled frustratedly after burning the energy to alter his body.  The priestess was furious at her limited abilities and took it out on Clint by forcing the hijacked young man to look at himself.  If he’d been in control of his body, the young jock would have vomited at the sight.  His pretty face, with it’s long, flowing hair, now sat on top of a distorted torso.  He had pecs so large and round they bordered on tits, above a waist so small he looked like he would break in half.  All of this now loomed above an ass that had inflated so much it entirely swallowed the lacy underwear.  He was curvy like she wanted, but since he hadn’t lost any muscle he was still firm and solid.

There was no relief when he turned away from the mirror.  Clint blanched as his hand ran over the front of the underwear and he felt the small, barely present lump underneath.  “You,” he said to Justin.  “Summon others.  Bring your queen more servants.”  Clint felt the priestess’s confusion as he watched Justin frantically send out several text messages.  “What are you doing?  I told you to summon others!”

Justin gave Clint a pleading look and held out his phone, nodding quickly.

“What magic is…” Clint felt Ankhenaat rummaging through his memories again before the anger turned to wonder.  “Science,” he said amusedly.  “Not magic, but science.  Our priests would have loved this,” he said, turning the phone over in his hand as though looking at it for the first time.  The moment passed quickly and he tossed the phone onto the floor.  “You’re such an able beast,” he said, gently stroking a hand across Justin’s heaving pecs.  His friend’s lengthy cock was twitching, but he ignored it.  “It’s too soon to feed from you again,” Clint said disappointedly.  “But you can still be of use.  Make this place fit for your queen,” he said, waving his hand around the room dismissively.

Clint watched Justin’s powerful, naked frame flit about the room, rearranging furniture and piling up cushions and pillows on the floor until the apartment looked like a temple harem.  Clint took up a spot in the center, lounging lazily until there was a knock on the door.

“Yo!  Dude!  What’s the emergency?”  Clint’s heart sank when he heard his friend Trent yell from the other side.  Trent was on the wrestling team with him, and he knew the other man’s muscled, athletic frame would provide an ample meal.

“We got here as quick as we could.”  Clint cursed Justin’s thoroughness when he heard Eric’s voice join in.  While Trent was his teammate, Eric was on the baseball team with Justin, and his friend had chosen well.  Between Eric’s tall, ripped frame and Trent’s wide, muscled body, he could already feel the vitality oozing from the two jocks through the closed door.  He hated how it stirred the same hunger in him as the priestess, and desperately wished he could deny the longing he felt.

Justin hurried to the door, his bare backside bouncing as he scampered across the room.  His friend’s broad frame blocked his view, but he heard a pair of shocked laughs come from the open door as the new arrivals made their way in.

“Uh...what the fuck is going on…” Trent laughed awkwardly.  Clint could see the familiar sight of his friend’s short, chestnut hair and lantern jaw peeking around Justin’s naked body.  He had on a baggy muscle shirt that showed off his buff torso, with its powerful arms, sculpted pecs and washboard stomach.  Unlike Clint had been, Trent was naturally smooth, with only a smattering of hair across his tanned skin.  His baggy basketball shorts concealed his powerful thighs but still showed off his large, round rear and rocky calves.

Behind him, Eric’s scruffy, sandy haired face turned red with embarrassment as he looked around the room.  He was dressed similarly to Trent in a tight tank top that showed off his lean, sculpted build and a pair of small, tight shorts that left his long legs exposed.  Like Justin, Eric was more proportionally built, needing both power and speed to cover a large baseball field. “Is this a joke,” he asked, the blonde stubble on his cheeks standing out against his crimson skin.

“Come in,” Clint said casually as Justin shut the door behind them.  The man trapped in his own body withered as he watched his teammate realize who he was looking at.

Trent’s jaw dropped at the strangely clad muscle man with the androgynous face.  “Cl...Clint?  Is that you?”

“No really, guys, what the fuck?”  Eric turned back towards the door but Justin was immobile.  “Would you tell us what’s going on?”  Justin opened his mouth and silently mouthed a few words before stopping and pointing towards Clint.

“Please, there’s no need to get upset,” Clint purred.  He could feel the power radiating out and washing over the other two men as they stared at him in confusion.  The hooks were already set.

“Jesus, Clint, what’d you...I mean...how...you’re…” Trent stammered.

“Don’t you like what you see?”  Clint gestured down at himself and he knew Ankhenaat was simply toying with all of them.  She relished the humiliation he felt as his friends stared at his nearly empty panties.

“What happened to your face?  And where’d your fuckin’ dick go,” Eric blurted as Justin forced him into the room.

“See for yourself,” Clint shrugged, smirking.  The man inside could see the same swirling energies surrounding his two friends that he’d seen around Justin, and he longed for it just as much as the priestess.  He hated himself for it, but he didn’t think he’d stop her even if he could.  He watched Trent and Eric’s eyes glaze over as they stood staring at him.  “Come….join us,” he said as Justin came around and draped his naked, ripped body across another pile of nearby cushions, his solid cock standing proudly before him.

“I...I don’t know if I…” Trent stammered, looking over at Eric.  “Do you want to…?”  The taller man looked back and forth between his friends before shrugging and pulling off his tank-top.  Seeing the other man begin to strip, Trent followed suit and soon the two men stood naked and twitching in front of their friends.

“This is fuckin’ weird,” Eric laughed as they walked towards the cushions.  His long, thick cock was already half hard between his toned, solid thighs.

Next to him, Trent said nothing but swallowed hard.  Despite his larger bulk, the short, thin rod twitching to life between his trunk-like legs was smaller than Eric’s dangling appendage.  It didn’t matter to Clint, who eyed them both hungrily.  “What...what’re we doing…” Trent finally sputtered.

“Worshipping your queen,” Clint said as he reached out and stroked a hand along Trent’s wide, stubbled jaw.  Having practiced together, Clint already knew what it felt like to be underneath his friend’s broad, powerful body, but he’d never quite looked forward to it like this.  He laid back as Trent knelt and let the other man slowly slide the lace underwear down his smooth, supple thighs.  Ankhenaat cackled in Clint’s mind as the young man burned with humiliation when his tiny nub was fully exposed in front of his friends.  “It’s...so small…” Trent said, his own rigid cock throbbing at the sight.

“This isn’t,” Clint laughed, rolling over and exposing his huge new rear.  He smiled when he felt Trent’s rough palms drop to it immediately.  “And that’s so much better, isn’t it?”  He let Trent paw at his pillowy globes for a moment before sitting up on his knees and looking over at Eric.  “Such a strapping young man…” Clint sighed seductively.  “Come and show me your devotion,” he said, reaching out and grabbing Eric by his long, solid cock to pull him down.

The taller man fell to his knees and gasped when Clint lunged forward, mashing their mouths together.  He instinctively wrapped his long arms around the other man but found Trent’s meaty frame pressed close to Clint from behind.  It didn’t matter.  He let his hands probe his friend’s beefy frame instead while Clint’s tongue explored the inside of his mouth.  For being on the wrestling team with Trent, Clint’s hands felt surprisingly soft as they stroked through the sparse hair on his impressive chest.  He shivered when he felt a pair of rough palms begin kneading his skin and realized that Trent’s probing digits were exploring him like he explored his friend.

“YYeeeesssss,” Clint hissed as the three of them writhed together.  He rolled his head back to let Eric work his mouth along his neck while Trent’s tongue flitted against a broad shoulder.  The power was building and he could start to seize it.  There was a slight tingling at his throat, and fresh horror when he spoke again.  “This is so much better,” Clint said in a voice that was high and soft instead of his deep, bassy rumble.  The trapped jock didn’t have time to dwell on this new layer of humiliation before he felt himself working his plump cheeks back to swallow Trent’s mighty little cock.  His friend’s small organ felt entirely different than Justin’s massive tool, but the priestess was already working to fix that.  “Hmmm...we can do better,” Clint laughed, looking over his shoulder and watching Trent’s eyes go wide.  The small cock inside him started to feel large, then huge, then massive.  “Muuuuuch better,” Clint moaned in his soft new voice, digging his hands into Eric’s shoulders as Trent started pumping away with his inflated club.

The tall man pressed against his front groaned when Clint started writhing and bucking against his torso.  His own long, solid cock was wedged between them, and he worked it back and forth along Clint’s soft, smooth stomach.  The sensation of Trent’s rough hands on his back and Clint’s soft but firm body squirming against his front was too much.  He let out a quiet gasp as he came, his cock spraying up against Clint’s chin.

Ankhenaat’s fury was immediate.  “You fool!” Clint bellowed, his eyes blazing as they bored into Eric’s stunned gaze.  “You’ve wasted it!  Now I’ll need to find another!”  Clint reached up and grabbed the sides of Eric’s head as the priestess’s fury flowed out of him.  “If you can’t serve me, you’ll serve them,” he spat.  As soon as Clint spoke, Eric’s cock went limp immediately, draping long and soft over one of his thighs.  Only Clint knew what the priestess meant by “serving them” and he felt a wave of pity for his friend as Eric’s brain was rewired.  He could practically feel the new impulses building in the athletic hunk who was being reborn as a limp dicked power bottom.  As she’d taunted Clint, if a man couldn’t serve Ankhenaat, he served her stable of men, keeping them fulfilled and aroused until she had her way with them.  Clint knew Eric’s days as a ladies man were over.

Behind, Trent was still pumping away, oblivious to what just happened.  He was too busy whimpering and moaning from the overwhelming new sensations his altered cock brought him to notice.  It hadn’t just grown larger but more sensitive as well, making Trent feel as if he’d discovered a sixth sense.

All Clint cared about were the swirling energies encompassing them both.  They were nearing the point where Ankhenaat could pluck him like a fruit, and while the trapped young man longed for that moment, he dreaded it in equal measure.  More power meant more changes, to himself and others.  Clint had now watched her alter three people without so much as a second thought and he knew her claims were more than just boasts.  If she gained enough strength she truly would launch a new reign of terror.

It was too late.  He felt Trent’s invading club spasm between his bouncing cheeks and the energy start to pour into him.  The priestess’s joy was unbridled as she fed, but before the transfer could finish there was a loud noise as the door slammed open.  The last thing Clint saw was Professor Howard running towards them before the world went black.

************

“Oh, so you like that,” Clint laughed in his pixie voice, popping his widened hips and causing his large cheeks to bounce wildly in his tiny shorts.  “Do you want me to take these off?”

On the couch in front of him, Justin nodded excitedly, his own shorts tented by his long, rigid cock.  The sculpted blonde ran a hand over his bare chest as he silently watched Clint slowly work the small shorts down.

“I’m wearing your favorites,” Clint said as he exposed the crimson lace panties that disappeared in the deep valley of his rear.  He turned back to face his friend and continued gyrating his hips, working the small lump between his supple thighs inches from Justin’s face.  “Ah ah,” he chided, slapping Justin’s hand away as the other man reached up to pull the underwear down.  “You first.”  Clint leaned over and pulled Justin’s shorts down, letting his friend’s large cock spring free.  The naked jock on the couch gasped silently as Clint stroked it between his soft fingers before bending down and swallowing it with his plump lips.

It had been a few months since their run in with the disembodied spirit and things were gradually settling in to a new normal.  Professor Howard had tracked them down and driven out Ankhenaat just in time.  Clint didn’t remember any of that, but it must have been an impressive battle.  When he came to, the apartment was in tatters and the Professor was battered and bloody.

While he’d arrived in time to prevent any further damage, there was nothing he could do about what had been done.  Clint learned that the priestess likely had her hooks in him from the start.  Professor Howard blamed himself for what happened, saying he never should have brought the bracelet out.  The breathless old man said he didn’t think she still had any sway or he never would have let it around other people.  That strange impulse he had to take it was apparently Ankhenaat’s doing, and while that made him feel slightly better, it did nothing to help him or his affected friends.  There was nothing that could be done for any of them.  Only Clint and Professor Howard remembered what happened.  To the rest, all they had was a hazy memory of arriving to the apartment.

Doctors blamed what happened to Justin on a stroke.  In the absence of any other evidence they had no way of explaining the changes in his behavior or the loss of his voice.  There weren’t any physical injuries, his friend just couldn’t speak.  The hulking viking also had trouble staying focused on anything that wasn’t Clint for extended periods.  Even after the priestess had been driven out, he hung on Clint’s every word as though he still worshipped him.

The same went for Trent and Eric.  On top of their other new behaviors, they both acted as though they were desperately in love with him.  Eric’s was the most jarring.  The handsome jock had gone from star baseball player to renowned power bottom.  It didn’t take long for word to spread.  Eric was a walking fantasy for most guys, the handsome, “straight” athlete who just so happened to be an eager fuck toy.  When they saw how hung he was, and how useless his permanently soft cock hung, it only made things better.  Not only were they topping the sculpted jock of their dreams, his impressive package was pointless.  Eric didn’t seem to mind.  If anything, he embraced his new activities with the same dedication he’d applied on the field.  He stayed on the team, but he spent a lot of extra time in the locker room after the games.

The same couldn’t be said for Trent and his enlarged package.  When he’d pulled free from Clint, the thin, five inch rod that went in came out as a thick, eleven inch club.  Hard or soft it’s overall size didn’t change much, leaving an obscene bulge in his singlet and an unwieldy lump that made wrestling difficult.  Add to that a heightened sensitivity that made him hard at the slightest touch, and his days on the team were over.  That was fine with him, since it gave him more time to spend with Clint.

Clint did his best to make it up to all of them.  They didn’t know he had anything to do with what happened, but it still tore him up inside.  Like his friends, he was left trapped in his altered, curvy body.  He still had the soft, smooth skin, huge muscle tits, tiny waist, non-existent cock, and massive ass that the priestess had given him.  On top of all that his face was still prettily androgynous with it’s flowing chocolate locks and his voice still high and soft.  He was a walking contradiction, both soft and hard, masculine and feminine.

Ankhenaat’s fingerprints went deeper than the physical for Clint.  His personality still bore her touch as he found that he carried himself differently, adding a swish to his walk and an arch to his back.  As much as he hated it, he found himself drawn to soft, womanly clothing and a desire to show off his twisted body.  There still seemed to be an affect on others as well, as men, both straight and gay, would throw themselves at him.  This suited Clint, as he had a lingering, almost insatiable hunger for other men.

He focused most of his attention on Justin.  He felt the worst for his roommate and did everything he could to keep the tall stud happy.  No matter how embarrassed he was, he’d parade around in whatever Justin liked to see him in, biting down on his humiliation and going through strip tease after strip tease.  Their years of friendship let them quickly develop their own system of wordless communication, but Clint felt awful every time he watched the other man sitting silently amongst a group of their chattering friends.

“Ready for the rest,” Clint asked when Justin guided his bobbing mouth free of his lap.

The flushed, panting man nodded quickly and Clint stood, letting Justin pull his underwear free.  The silent hunk was the only person he didn’t feel a wave of humiliation around at the sight of his micro dick.  The look of pure lust and affection in his friend’s eyes made that impossible.  Clint let Justin pull him forward and swallow the entirety of his shrunken package, moaning loudly.  His small equipment wasn’t good for much, but it still felt good.

“Alright...alright…” Clint said, reluctantly pulling away as Justin clutched his mountainous rear.  He stepped up onto the couch and grabbed the back, straddling his friend.  Locking eyes, he lowered himself onto the waiting pole, letting out a velvety moan of pleasure to make up for Justin’s voiceless gaping.  Words weren’t necessary at this point anyway.  He leaned forward and locked lips with his friend, probing Justin’s mouth the way the other man was probing his lower half.  It may not have been what either of them wanted, but they were determined to make the best of it.

Especially Clint, who tried to ignore the sinister laughter echoing through his brain.