The Mark of Anubis

The Mark of Anubis

Max hated the night shift. Being a security guard at a museum, while not hard work, was to him often uneventful. Hour after hour he would wander the halls of exhibits, flashlight in hand, his hips swaying back and forth as he listened to club beats on his phone. He would much rather find himself at a club, any club so long as there was dancing and men to dance with. Often he would dance past the ancient bones of long dead animals, murals depicting epic battles and statues of heroes and gods alike. It was never an issue as the museum could not afford full camera coverage of the displays, only two recorded feeds near the entrance and exit, hence their need for an all night guard.

While most of the museum's many displays lost their glamor for him a long time ago, he still loved the Egyptian corridor. It was a spacious hallway, lined with pottery and weapons, a replica coffin, and a papyrus tapestry depicting hieroglyphs found inside one of the great pyramids. The piece de resistance of the display came in the form of two genuine statues of the god of death Anubis, placed on either side of the replica sarcophagus.

They were tall and imposing, nearly towering over the rest of the exhibit by a few feet. Max would sometimes find himself standing in front of one statue or the other, looking up at its towering magnificence. Max was not short per say, his slender yet toned frame resting at 5 feet 8 inches in sneakers. The statues stood well above this height, to the point where standing directly in front of one required him to look up. If he looked in front all he would find is the elegantly carved loin cloth obfuscating what Max liked to imagine was an equally proportionate member.

This night was an especially gruesome affair as Max found himself particularly bored out of his mind. He was not in the mood for dancing and instead found himself shuffling down the halls at a snail's pace. Trying to imagine himself at a club was to no avail. All he could see in his mind's eyes were the silhouettes of men. A muscular thigh. A slender waist. The beats in his head were replaced by the sounds of hushed breaths and distant moans. He shook his head and looked down. An impressive tent protruded in his khakis as he found his member struggling to make itself known. He looked around nervously, even though he was far from the front of the museum, alone close to midnight. It was just him and the shadows of the exhibits. He found himself at the entrance to the Egyptian exhibit. Letting out a sigh of boredom, he proceeded down the hall, unsure what just happened. He made it only a few steps before the visions came again. Bodies moving and gyrating all around him and pleading sighs of ecstasy. When he finally managed to regain his focus, he found himself standing at the foot of one of the Anubis statues. His cock now seared with pain as it pressed firm and hard against his pants. He could feel a deep pressure in his loins. Looking up at the statue, then down at himself, he knew then he needed some form of release.

Unzipping the front of his khakis, he pulled out his cock, girthy and already dripping with precum. As he did so, his balls also slid out, fully exposing himself in front of the statue. Max could not help himself in that moment as he grabbed his dick and began pumping it in front of the god. His mind drowned in shadowy images and voices all crying and pleading for more in unison. He tried to slow down, worried about the mess he could make but his lust could not be tempered. Rhythmically, he thrust into his hand over and over. Soon he found himself moaning and breathing heavily in time with the sounds in his head. With his other hand he grabbed his balls and gently squeezed, letting out a slight whimper. He had never done anything like this before, at least not in a public setting.

His moans eventually gave way to an almost ecstatic cry of relief as he felt a wave of pleasure rush over his body and through his cock.Looking down he watched as cum shot over and over from his now throbbing member. Relief and pleasure washed over him like a warm bath and for a time he stood there unable to move from an almost trance like state of bliss. Eventually though, his mind turned to clarity, and panic. He looked up, terrified of the potential damage he had done.

To his bewilderment and surprise, the statue, floor and wall behind it were immaculate as always. Where he expected to find streams of pale fluid he found... nothing. He was staring in confusion at the statue for a few minutes, still trying to process what happened, when he heard the sound of someone clearing their throat from directly behind them. He quickly spun around as terror and panic filled his heart.

What he found facing him was a colossal man. Towering at about 8 feet, he was broad, but slender, masculine but clean and beautiful to behold. His upper half was bare save for a few gold bracelets and rings adorning his large hands. Below the waist he wore an all too familiar piece, however instead of the usual stone, this was cloth and adorned with a metallic ornamentation that lined along the waist. His face, along with the rest of him, was lean and beautiful. Framed by a head of onyx hair, his jaw appeared sharp and tense, and his deep black eyes relayed a hypnotic fury.

Max could not look away. Whatever thoughts he had were lost in those eyes. He felt the world slip away as he stared. The man finally spoke, his voice deep and solid as stone. "Kneel." His tone was one of complete command. Max had to steady himself, almost falling over sideways as he lowered himself onto his knees.

The man stared down at him, his expression never changing. It was all consuming. The man took one of his hands and laid it on top of Max's head. It felt soft, but it quickly became apparent the strength behind it as he was made to focus, his gaze being tilted upward. "This is what you want, is it not?" The man asks, his voice warm but still carrying that tone. The one that spoke untold words. Max was in trouble, Max was to be punished.

Max looked up at the man in confusion, unsure what he meant.

The man sighed and forcibly lowered Max's gaze. Where before there was a curtain of cloth there now was nothing blocking Max's face from, arguably, the most epic cock he would ever see. It hung thick and imposing, resting over a pair of round balls. Max stared at the member and began to feel drool forming in his mouth. He wanted it. He could feel his own cock hardening again at the very thought. There was a sound like a huff, "I will ask again, is this what you want? I have no time for games." The voice was firm and demanded an answer. Max found himself able to look up. He nodded eagerly. The man's eyes hinted at something other than anger for the first time in this whole interaction. A deep hidden want and a spark of ambition. "Good." was all he said before directing Max's head down and closer to his now semi-erect member.

Guiding his head into place, Max wasted no time welcoming the thick cock into his mouth, his tongue sliding over its girthy length. He quickly found himself worshiping the man's length deeper into his mouth, sucking and licking. The cock quickly grew to fill his mouth almost completely at full mast, Max's jaw adjusting to the sudden stretching. He had serviced many a cock in the past but this was the first he could not get enough of. Running his tongue along the length of the man's shaft he would stop at the head and give the tip of his cock extra attention, circling the head before diving back in. Time seemed to stretch on forever. He had always been here, in this place, in mindless bliss. He felt the hand of the man pressing him forward as the cock was thrust deeper and harder into his mouth and throat. "That's right." He heard the man say. "This is what happens when you make a mess on what is not yours. Now you are mine." His voice was a mix of growls and grunts as Max felt his face pressed closer and closer to the base, faster and harder.

Max felt himself slip away as the rhythm of the thrusts took over. He was here for this, this was his purpose now. The man spoke something, but Max could not hear, or was it in a different language? A final thrust bringing the cock all the way into Max's mouth. He felt it fill his throat as warm seed entered him. Max was held there as spurts of cum filled his mouth and then his stomach. A warm full feeling suddenly struck him as he was slowly pulled back off the now slick cock, gleaming amongst the shadows. "Very good boy." He heard the man say as Max was gently cradled. They remained there for who knows how long, staring into each others eyes. The man no longer looked so angry. His expression was one of caring and concern. Eventually the sight in Max's eyes began to darken as he drifted into some oblivion between sleep dreams. Images floated past his eyes of vast deserts, long dark tunnels, and a man on a throne with the head of a jackal.

Max awoke some time later. His sight slowly adjusted to find himself on the opposite end of the exhibit hall, propped up against a wall. Looking around there was no one to be found. Through a nearby window the slight beginnings of sunrise could be seen growing over the sky. Standing up and checking himself, Max appears fine. There was no sign of what had transpired save for a warmness coming from inside that felt unfamiliar.

Brushing himself off, Max proceeded to the nearest bathroom whereupon he continued his inspection, perplexed at what happened. Was it all a dream, or a hallucination? It was not until he went into a stall and removed his khakis that he saw it. Right on the inside of his right thigh was a mark. At first, Max could not tell what it was but upon closer inspection it was obvious. Like a tattoo, on his skin he found the hieroglyphic symbol of a dog's head.