Like any strange, ancient and horrible god-king, “Lord Anubis” had followers. He had a variety of them. There were average, normal mortals; there were stranger creatures. There were a few elite and devoted guards and retainers and creatures in between. They were not legion, but they were precious to him. They were loyal. And they were lovely to behold.
The source was a mystery. A few said that those who died under unusual circumstances - by accident or their own hand - might end up in his realm; fitting for the god of death. There were whispers that anyone could “join” his retinue if they searched the strange streets and occult workshops and night-touched backalleys of the waking world. One said that the people were all dreams who’d become trapped forevermore in his halls, given shape and substance while the dreamer went about unmolested. And of course, there was the persistent rumor that golden pharoah would simply pluck and take the things that had his attention.
New assets would go through unpredictable inductions. Some were taken purely, purely as objects of art. Those that had value, and were captured, mummified, and sealed to up to dream for him. In fact, many ended up cocooned and sealed in a coffin. This was among the best ways to make a very resilient drone.
It was not clear to observers what a “drone” truly was. A person with free will, trapped in thick rubber? Perhaps. A hypnotized servant? Quite likely. A willing convert? Almost certainly some had arrived here, and despite their protests, knew that their fate was sealed and embraced it. To be born again as a rubber servant of Lord Anubis was a glory so powerful that none had denied it for long.
Denial was, though, key for all of his drones. Those who had been recently converted or remained at the lowest tier were, simply put, denied. All body types were welcome in his domain; all were equally servile to the cause and the cult. There were variations, of course, but the vast majority were uniform in design and purpose; and for the bottom rung, that was denial. Masculine units were - obviously - coated in beautiful, magical black rubber. It was thick, it was tight, and it was totally encompassing. It went over their entire form, including their head, leaving them blind save for the magical auras that would sometimes guide them. Sight was denied these playthings.
Not even the tiniest bit of skin was visible, making an airtight and air-proof seal - good against the biting winds or heat or cold. Magically adapted, they were kept reasonably comfortable at all times. Still, comfort only went so far, for every one of them had their manhoods trapped in a bulge. A glowing ankh, his symbol, was traced on it - the methods varied - and kept them for receiving orgiastic release.
It didn’t prevent pleasure, though. These neophyte drones could still ‘enjoy’ the endless edging that came with being a willing, hypnotized slave to the Golden King. They groped and grasped at their manhoods, hands usually trapped in gold-colored inflatable balls or mittens, and all of them equally useless. It was a delight to watch them, and at times their betters would watch as new drones tried and failed to go over the edge. Sometimes they’d go for months of peaceful drone-hood before a spark would overtake them and they’d attempt - fruitlessly - to achieve something. They never did.
That was in part thanks to the glowing sigils inscribed on their bulge and their ‘face’. Because converts were all hooded and masked, a symbol might identify their purpose, or former identity, or be merely decorative in design. But every hieroglyph (almost always an ankh) also shackled them, sapping the erotic neediness and arousal. They powered their own ‘curses’... though most considered their fate a ‘blessing.’
Those betters who considered their fate as rubber drones were often promoted to higher tiers of servitude; as a reward for performance, obedience, or simply a long time served. These vaunted ‘alpha slaves’ would at times wear clothing like a loin-cloth, and often wore exotic masks. The masculine ones were jackals; more feminine servants wore cat-masks in honor of Bastet. Not a single drone was left out, though, and the mid-tier priests always found a good setup and role.
The feminine units were no better off at the base-level. Just like the masculine ones, their rear and mouth were always available for service. Ribbed, edged, plugged, glossy, clean, and with the single purpose of need and use. Yes, they were there for mundane tasks, but really, their purpose was to be used and enjoyed and denied, or to blindly stumble in horny need. Unable to achieve release on their own.
Although at times, there was a possibility. When being used by a strong, powerful Better, they might achieve an orgiastic state that equivocated an orgasm. But that required a middle-servant to allow it. Those veterans were visually very similar, but with key changes and privileges. First and foremost, through their exotic masks, they could see and hear all. The beauty of Lord Anubis was a reward all on its own. Further, they were permitted speech; generally done through similarly magical means, in case their mouths were filled or plugged.
But the greatest privilege of all was the opportunity to enjoy themselves, and to enjoy the lower-drones. With control over their chastity, they could finally enjoy the long-long awaited orgasms. There was something profound about seeing a beloved servant finally using their powers for the first time. The way they grabbed a drone, the way they often savored it; the way they humped viciously, intensely, filling and using and making the completely packed and plugged bottom-slaves moan and beg. With this power, they could share the gifts of their Pharoah with others; even share them with new members of the cult.
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The four newest members of the Kingdom had tried different strategies in their escape, but none of them had succeeded in doing anything to avert their fate. The God of Death was inevitable, much like their predicaments.
D, the smartest of the group, was probably seen as the one with the most potential for ascension and trust, and was therefore taken by a pair of drones from the start. His wife begged to go with, and - in an act of both cruelty and kindness - was permitted, leaving Circ behind. A pair of heavily armed and armored guardians grabbed him and took him away shortly after.
Despite their assigned closeness, they did not share the same fate. D was designated to be converted promptly; no time was needed to format or change him; all that was needed was obedience and rubber. A pair of drones had their sick fun, taking their sweet time all while his wife, B, watched - and participated. Both of them were stripped nude and oiled up, rubbed sweetly at first and brought into a false sense of security. The couple was feeling loose, pliant, and open to the strange and unpredictable behavior of the cult.
That was when the drones struck. Male and female drones grabbed him at the same time, and as he squirmed and moaned and his arms flailed, they began the conversion process with an intense intimacy. Held aloft by the female drone, who used her available mouth on his manhood, the male drone lifted him up into the air. Even as he was being sucked, he was being filled. His rear was used, penetrated by the jackal-masked creature behind him. His arms twitched. His fingers splayed. His toes curled.
He felt himself losing control over his body, starting at his groin and spreading outwards. His wife blushed and covered her mouth as thick, black rubber began to extend starting at his behind and spreading to his thighs. Then his legs. Then his waist. Slowly at first, then getting faster in time with the intense speed of the thrusts from behind. D moaned, tried to speak, and then found himself at a loss for words. More ran through his head. Faster did as well. He also managed to spend a little time thinking about what fate awaited the rest of his party, if they too would end up being humped and rubberized.
D didn’t finish his thought as the rubber reached his face, going into his ears and beginning to thrum hypnotic curses throughout his person. His eyes went glassy as the latex finally covered his mouth, hair, face, plugging his nose and coating his gums. It allowed for a long awwwggh as the female drone decided to finish his existence as a trespasser off. In her kindness and lewdness, she allowed D one final orgasm - a titanic, earthshaking feeling - as he found his manhood trapped in a thick rubber null bulge and the last of his skin was coated. It glowed gold around his hands and feet, and an upside-down ankh appeared on his forehead.
Still quivering, the drone that was D slumped to the ground, dripping and twitching, coated and complete. The female drone went for B.
Meanwhile, Circ and Aria had not earned such high honors. Their fate was sealed; and it was, in fact, to be sealed.
Circ, being seen as pliable and in need of further in-depth processing and formatting before he could join the vaunted ranks of even the drones, was taken to a deep, dark part of the complex. The wall-torches and mystical lights grew dimmer. He began to notice sand and dust on the floor. He realized that this part of the pyramid was not used often. This was no hallowed hall. This truly felt like a tomb.
The tall pair of high-ranking jackal-guards bore no emotion as they forced him down hall, then another, then another; down a ramp, then a staircase. He stared at blank alcoves along the walls, unsure what was meant by this. Unsure until they prodded him forwards and a blank alcove wall slid up, revealing his fortunate fate. Sigils emblazoned above it pressed information into his mind. This was for him.
It seemed blank and empty, until the two guards firmly shoved him inside. Rather than stumbling on stone, he found his fall broken, his body moved, his perception morphing. The guards disappeared; his experience of time seeming to speed up and slow down at an unpredictable pace. Things moved too fast to react to, but the processing was agonizingly slow.
And so, Circ was wrapped and embalmed and prepared for his transformation. Exotic latex-like bandages seemed to flow like syrup from the walls, forming in mid-air and wrapping starting at his feet, then ankles, then waist, then stomach… his arms went across his chest before those were sealed in place. No need for a mummy to use his arms, after all. He twitched; he’d felt every little microsecond, every moment as the latex tightened around his body.
Time became normal only after it was too late to escape. The rubber around him formed into a squishy black body-sack. He felt every breath becoming harder and harder to take as it wrapped tightly, tightly, so tightly around his body. He was doing his best to struggle and squirm; the tightness feeling suffocating, his muscles begging with the effort to move even the tiniest bit.
He was utterly, completely immobilized by the sack over his wrapped form; the pressure closing in on him, crushing him more by each passing moment. He was like a canopic jar, and, fittingly so, a gold mask vaguely resembling his own face appeared. It slid over his face, filling his mouth and gagging him. Circ’s need started to rise as the rubber settled, cooled, and sealed his fate. Swallowed whole, he was left to be edged, converted, and programmed in near-silence. The tomb slid closed, the temple went dark, and Circ’s mummification was complete.
B was nowhere near as unlucky as Circ. She’d been chosen to be one of the Brides; an exclusive order, to be sure. That meant being wrapped up in black bandages and fitted with some of the finest jewelry they’d ever seen - although for the first period of their training, they’d see very little of it. B found herself wrapped with each limb individually first; arms, fingers, toes, waist, and so on - and fitted with a magnificent golden girdle. That it had the power to fill her, edge her, zap her; despite being one of a supposedly elite sisterhood, new acolytes would find themselves just as needy and edged as any ordinary drone.
Matching the chastity girdle were a pair of gem-encrusted fittings that sat atop her teats. Finishing the aesthetic was a heavy posture collar, with a matching gem in its neck; once placed, the three thrummed with arcane power. B moaned; the first of many as her mouth was wrapped and her eyes were covered with a padded gold-and-black blindfold. She need not see any beauty save for those of her betters. And so, quivering, mewling, stimulated and already feeling her mind tingle, she was led away to meet with the Priestesses.