There were signs of life outside the tomb. Cinua, fearless assassin, sinister shep, bully (at times) and sweetheart (at most others) stood outside a mysterious tomb to an ophidian snake-goddess. Long lost to time, but not to his Master, this was supposedly the location of some very valuable objects. Rare loot was already enough to intrigue him, but the possibility that some temple deep in Southeast Asian jungles was attracting someone else, that was the real juice.
That someone was Phantom, the white-furred tigress and executive (and rival) to his beloved Master. She was too arrogant and self-assured to send anyone else; she’d most definitely be here. It was a chance to find her at a vulnerable moment, and also steal whatever rare treasure inside was right out from under her nose. It wasn’t so much that his beloved Raikano wanted the object; Cinny might just donate it to a museum when he found it. No, it was the chance to interrupt Phantom, to take from her, and ideally to see her squirming and pleading before the sun was down. Now that was more valuable than any golden idol or rare object or grave goods. That was a priceless sight.
Others had been here before, though. A long time ago, by the looks of it; tattered remnants of visitors, most certainly foreign, indicated a brief campsite here many years ago. He nudged through it briefly with a stick - no, someone had been here more recently as well, there were modern packages and wrappers discarded.
Tsk, Cinua said to himself. Phantom, you’re a grave-robber AND you’re a litterbug?
That indicated to him that Phantom was probably somewhere already inside the tomb. It was a front-facing stone entrance on the outside that led into a dark cave; not the most welcoming visit for sheps from out of town, but Cinua didn’t really have time to wait. If Phantom was already inside the tomb, he could simply wait around for her to leave, but there’d be no sport in that, not like snatching whatever valuable historical artifact out from her clutches. Into the tomb Cinua went, leaving his backpack outside but bringing a few choice items in with him; rope slung across his chest, and a big ballgag for Phantom for later.
A few hundred paces in, lit only by a flashlight, Cinua found that the tomb began to open up. There was light streaming down from holes in the rock, illuminating the strange rock shapes and formations. It was eerie and oppressive even in the light, for while he could see the clearing, he could not make out the source of the sounds. Hissing. Shadowy shuffling. It was an open chamber of serpentine carvings and glyphs on the walls, about fifty feet across, with holes in the stone that indicated another level below.
At the center of the chamber was a stone plinth, and with it, a curvy tigress busy lounging with a heavy-looking golden staff in her hand. A long tube topped with a nacreous, pearlescent cylinder; old gold that wore a thousand nicks along its stiff length. Nothing at the end, as if it was missing a piece of its power, but glowing with ancient and deep-worn grooves, indicating that this staff still held great power.
Cinua’s boots hit the stone with a satisfying thud as he entered the chamber. His sharp grin widened. “Well, well. Fancy meeting you here, Phantom.”
The tigress twirled the golden staff between her fingers, a kitten’s smug smirk curling her lips.
“What can I say? I have a thing for antiquities. You know I’ve got a huge collection. I love having them to myself.” She tilted her head, eyes gleaming in the dimmer light. “And having them first.”
Cinua scoffed. “Bold words for someone about to hand it over.” He took a step forward, rolling his shoulders. “Unless you’re willing to get a little wrapped up in conversation? I’ve got tape for the lips, kitten. Oh, and your wrists, ankles, thighs, nose…”
Phantom chuckled, running a claw along the engravings. “Oh, Cinua, my dear, sweet pup. SO sweet. The sweetest shep around… you’re cute. But this isn’t for you, this isn’t a toy. It’s a relic of power, meant for someone who knows how to handle it. Someone smarter, you know, like me? The supergenius and CEO? And if I can figure it out, soon-to-be goddess.”
Cinua circled her, fingers flexing. He would even occasionally run a finger down his thigh, showing off shapely legs beneath outdoor wear. “You don’t look like much of a goddess to me. Where’s the slithering, the hissing, the fangs?”
Phantom tapped the staff against the stone, half joking. Cinua didn’t notice the very real energy building up in it, the residual glow from the banter and gloating, the energy and emotions welling up in the room. “Patience, dear. You’re so eager to be at my feet.”
He rolled his eyes.
The tigress didn’t move. Didn’t need to. Cinua lunged.
Phantom sighed dramatically, raising the staff just so. “Honestly,” she purred, “if you wanted to be tied up, all you had to do was ask.”
Midair, he saw the long tubular stalk of nicked gold in her hands was coruscating with blue power. It was hers; she was already bonded to it. It was never his, and never going to be his. The moment his feet touched the stone floor of the chamber, the moment he set foot inside, it had been decided. Not only was Phantom there first, but she was in charge of the temple and its energies and responsibilities.
Phantom did not move. She did not dodge, she did not defend. She only watched.
His long extendable baton was useless. A trick of the tomb, or a trick of hers; his blade did not strike her, did not reach, it slipped through her like smoke. He staggered. The stone beneath him shifted; Cinua prepared for another strike. An old assassin trick, to strike with a blade in his other hand.
He did not notice the hissing.
A coil slid over his wrist. Smooth, cold, tightening. He thrashed. Another latched to his thigh. Then his shoulder.
Serpents.
He saw them now, pouring from the walls, born from the stone itself. He swung his blade again, but there was nothing to cut. They were not solid. Not like him. They were alive, but not flesh. They wrapped around him, seeping all around his skin, pressing into him, coiling, merging, binding. He flailed, trying to get them off, and partially successful, he managed a look at Phantom. He was stunned.
Phantom’s upper body remained the same, though it lacked the clothes she’d been wearing earlier, replaced now with a tight and form-hugging robe. Sleek, feline, white as ivory with stripes, but where there should have been shapely thighs, there was instead a vast, gleaming serpent’s coil. Emerald green like her eyes, scales glistening with a strange, unholy sheen, wound across the temple floor. She flowed, not merely slithering. It was sexy, captivating (quite literally!) A slow, deliberate undulation, each movement sending a ripple of muscle down her immense, constricting form.
Beneath the back of his knees, a strange feeling. Around his inner thigh. Around his elbow, or his bicep and armpit.
"Foolish thing," Phantom murmured. The murmur was massive and loud. He snapped back to attention as he felt the serpents flying through the air, projections of force. His breath caught. The slick coils were hick, unnatural, and smooth as polished glass. The snakes were merging into something tight, something sealing, something enclosing. He could still move. For now. But the pressure was immense, pulling him inward, pulling his arms inward, ripping apart his clothes and equipment from the inside out. Cinua thrashed, but his body was betraying him. What magic was happening? No, they were being coated, then individually sealed together… knees locked, ankles pressed together, then his arms…
Phantom sighed and coiled closer to him. He thrashed left and right now, but he was starting to feel like an inmate in an asylum, straining against a jacket.
“Vipers poison. Anacondas squeeze."
She lifted the staff, not as a weapon, but as something worse. As if she was simply acknowledging a truth that had always existed.
"I'm worse than both."
The words were a whisper, but they struck like a command. The last coil slipped over his throat. Cinua gasped, the snakes together than breath. The “goddess” guided his arms in front of him, chest compressed, his ribs caught in a second, crushing skin. The little adventurer shuddered, felt his lungs strain, felt the suit molding itself, and him, into a more ideal form. He fell slowly onto his side and moved, like a worm, on the ground. Or a snake, but not one with any grace. One that didn’t know how to move. He went fetal for a second, then stretched back.
“Nngnghh… you BITCH! Some goddess, the usual tricks and traps.”
Phantom watched.
She waited. She quite liked watching creatures try to escape. Time passed; seconds, then minutes of fruitless thrashing. Rubber-sacked magic that was slowly leeching his strength away. His struggles slowed. Not because he chose to. Because he had no choice. Cinua’s mouth parted, his breath ragged, while Phantom simply grinned. Her lips parted as the smile grew and grew…
He felt a tigress claw, a single, gloved finger beneath his chin. The suit flexed with her touch. A single motion, and it elegantly squeezed a noise from Cinny.
"You understand now," Phantom said softly. “I am glad you like this glimpse of divinity.”
Cinua’s throat bobbed.
The snake-Phantom’s green eyes gleamed and he felt her tape his forehead with the staff, and he felt into a dreamless, but short, sleep.
Part 2
When he came to, he wasn’t a proud shep. He wasn’t even standing. He was held in place. Held, because he was an object, about to be further objectified.
As his vision returned, Cinua found himself at the center of some kind of magical ritual chamber. He felt elevated. Like something was about to change. There was tension, electricity in the air. Was Phantom preparing to cast a spell? Do something cruel to him? He shivered, trying to figure out his situation… felt fear run down his spine. She could simply leave him like this. Alone in a dark tomb, somehow immobilized… If she wanted to, that is. Was she that cruel? He knew that he was absolutely vulnerable. No no, she wasn’t that mean, and she was somewhere around him…
“Arise!” Phantom shouted, and he found himself straightened up, in front of an old piece of silvered brass etching, reflective enough to see himself. His breath hitched. Legs and arms, fused into seamless rubber. Arms impossibly compressed and consumed by green, thick, textured rubber.
The exterior had the same vellate scales as a snake. He could imagine rubbing his face against it as he tortured some other rubberslave, but those thoughts fluttered away like jungle insects. Dominant thoughts were somehow hard to keep on hand. The rubber’s green, serpentine carapace looked so god damned reinforced. Thick black bands constricted around key points; his waist, thighs, chest, and neck; tightening, ensuring the pristine, sculpted shape forced upon him.
He saw an eye twitch, and tried to follow it up with a struggle. His head was just free enough to know that his mouth was open, but it was all framed like a hunter’s trophy. A thick, hooded collar, almost like a cobra’s collar, high and firm, cupped around his jawline and skull, forcing up the posture of poor Cinua. Lips parted in a gasp. He tried to hop, but nothing happened. He was anchored; a smooth golden pedestal. Mounted.
“Lucky for me, there’s plenty of time to get you gagged and sealed for your new permanent rubberization.”
Phantom’s lahmial coils started to curl around him.
“Like hell you are. You’re going to gloat, and make a big big BIG mistake.”
“Oh, little Cinnybun. If you’re talking, then I’ve been too kind.”
Phantom was so affectionate. Even as a goddess, she was personal. She got to work as he thrashed in place. First, the suit was obviously too free. It inflated, magically, and he thrashed and flailed and writhed until he was red in the face. It was strange, to feel such a curious setup. Standing up, arms and legs bound, trying to lean over or even just fall down, and yet, unable to do so. A strange feeling, made stranger by the exquisite feeling of defeat. The inner suit was inflating, squeezing his poor sheppy body, a new thick and heavy layer of magical effervescence that just… GOD, he really couldn’t get out!!! That thought scared him.
“Get me OUT of this!” he shouted. “Get me OUT, Phantom, your magical tricks aren’t funny. Let’s just work this out like civilized people.”
Her hands trailed along his muzzle, her claws grazing the edges of his fangs, as if testing them.
"These, though," she mused, gripping his jaw with one hand. "These are a problem."
A pulse of golden light and discomfort. Not sharp, not cutting, no no, just erasure and normalization. Cinua flicked his tongue over his mouth in mounting horror. The sharp edges were gone. Sanded down into smooth, blunt nubs, useless, declawed, nothing more than a pet’s dull bite.
“Whhh-what did you doooo to mee?”
"Be grateful, Worm." Phantom was busy admiring her work. "I could have glued your lips shut, or pierced them together, but then I wouldn’t get to enjoy you later. And I do think I might have a use for that mouth in the future. Over the course of the next few years, you’ll also find yourself declawed in many ways. Can’t have my slaves doing any damage.”
The GODDESS cupped his chin again, a favorite move, her thumb pressing against his trembling lower lip. “But for your encasement I only need one thing.”
She pressed something against his lips.. He barely had time to react before she shoved the fat sponge inside, filling the space behind his cheeks, pushing his lips apart in an obscene, helpless ‘O’.
Then another. A second wad, forcing his tongue down.
“Ngghghh hhhghgh”
He jerked, but her hands were already back on him, pressing the massive and obscene rubber plug-gag past his stretched lips, pushing it deep, a colossal cock that tickled his throat. She watched him gasp on the edge of gagging.
Cinua made a cute puppy-growl, the sponge muffling it like a recording booth, against his tongue and cheeks. He could feel his own saliva creeping down his throat, pooling at the edges of his lips. He swallowed, or tried to. The poor little gagslut felt his throat flex uselessly against the thick plug teasing the back of his mouth.
“Your final fate is to be quite stringent. The first creature of many who I plan to doom like this. I am sure that your beloved Raikano is on his way. I’m excited to add him to my collection. But ah, I shouldn’t get distracted.”
His ears flicked in some final attempt at defiance, but he was powerless to stop her as she brought out the next layer. Almost delicate, a long, winding strip of enchanted cloth, silken yet impossibly firm, dipped in resin to ensure it would harden once in place. The first wind went over his mouth, smoothing over his lips with suffocating softness. The next circled his muzzle, looping beneath his jaw, pulling everything tighter. Every pass, every coil squeezed, compacting his lower face into silence. He could feel it creeping up his snout, hugging his features, sealing him up. His breathing quickened through flaring nostrils, but it only made Phantom grin wider. HUFF.
“Yes. A bit too visible though. I would hate it if anyone knew you were the great assassin Cinua.”
Another layer. Fuck. He really didn’t have the jaw strength to get this off. He was starting to shake his head ‘no’ now, and Phantom was simply not listening. Then the muzzle. Thick, exotic leather buckled snug around the shape of his face, pressing down over the three layers below. Phantom took her time with this one, pulling each strap tight, securing it magically with tiny gold locks. Symbols glowed on its surface, with runes of sealing or something similar.
His ears twitched wildly, the last vestige of his ability to express himself. Phantom noticed. She cooed at him, stroking his fur as she gently fit a pair of noseplugs into his flaring and needy nostrils. Magical, cruel, filling up the last few orifices not already plugged.
Another cloth. This one huge, thick, wrapped around his whole head and ears, tied off at the back in a careful knot. Cinua sucked in sharp breaths through his nose, trying to adjust to the sheer volume of material now encasing his head, the layers pressing in from all angles. He could feel the padding cradling him, pressing against his fur, keeping him in that state of absolute, inescapable restraint, and only barely when he realized it, she finished him off.
The rubber masking finally completed her work. It stretched over his snout, pulling his lips into a slight part, the pressure around his cheeks already crushing the last of his protests. Cinua whimpered, getting out one last noise before the final layer swallowed him whole. His ears folded, muffled, disappeared under the tightening embrace. Gleaming like oil. No room for motion, no chance for breath beyond the tight nasal slits left for him and the panic in his eyes; any other movement was incidental. Pressure mimicking her own squeezing, a full-body hug, inflated with magic and layered with cruelty. A claustrophobic prison and all for him.
She reached up and patted the side of his now-fully wrapped muzzle, hearing the faintest, most pitiful little exhale from his nostrils. “I don’t even need to ask if you love it. I can feel it. Your GODDESS sees your appreciation.” She ran a finger over the runes on the muzzle, then leaned in, whispering.
“let’s go even deeper, Cinny. The ritual chamber awaits. ”
Part 3
The chamber was somewhat mundane. No glowing energy. Phantom was busy chanting, not even paying attention to the rubberized Cinua.
There was magic, of course, and it was magical for Phantom. Heavenly, divine, celestial! But she had just lied, absolutely boldfaced lied, that this was a ‘ritual chamber.’ Because while this could surely be used for some kind of magical leyline, the main reason was just here to torture him.
He breathed in, lungs able to get in a bit of the hot and humid air. The closest thing to a ‘deep breath’ also meant inhaling in reddish incense-scented air from the censers and burners surrounding him. His vision blurred for a moment. Every breath was like a weighted inhale, like trying to breathe while Phantom was on top of him. A hot vision, though not as hot as the sweltering temperatures in the actual chamber. Veins of magma and heat in the stone walls had the whole room bathed in amber-red ambient glow. And yet, sunshine still cascaded from above; crystalline mirrors beaming down enough sunshine from the temples above that the lighting was bright (and warm!) even in this deep and dark oubliette.
High above, Cinua had seen coiled serpent statues slithering up cyclopean pillars. Blackened, obsidian bodies with veins of glowing heat, black polished gem-eyes looking down below. Cinua inhaled again, lowering his gaze from the impossibly tall ceiling to the smooth-as-glass onyx polished surface on which he stood. He couldn’t turn his head, but he could see that past said platform, there was a sheer drop. Below him, far below, was a slow-churning river of mystical magma below. No railing or protection. He felt a lump growing in his throat; if he fell… would Phantom catch him?
Phantom slithered towards him, darting. The way that she moved indicated that she had quite rapidly gotten used to her lahmial, ophidian form. The slithering had a sort of meandering effect; Cinua could imagine her walking with shapely, sexy thighs, one foot in front of another. Except in this case, she was rippling, thick, destructive snake-muscle.
“Do you like the undercroft? I thought that this would be a bit nicer for your stay. Warmer. A bit cozier. Escape is now so impossible that you’re going to forget it was ever impossible.”
Cinua gurgled something. Phantom got closer. She placed a hand on his ‘chin,’ and her thumb on his ‘lips’. He felt his breathing quicken.
“Down here, you’re truly hopeless. You’re helpless. Feel what you’re body is saying.” She rubbed his lips, and leaned in, removing her hands but placing them on his ‘shoulders.’ (Actually, more of the thick inflated crushing collar.)
“You’re lost. Absolutely fucking doomed. Dominated and doomed. Do you even realize what you’re doing?”
Phantom brought her body up against his. He tried to shake his head ‘no,’ to say that this dumb white-furred bitch should go jump in a lava lake, but he was too busy quivering once he realized that she was circling and coiling him with her lower body. The first circling slid up his waist. A silken noose tightening one inch at a time. The thick rubber suit groaned against it, compressed between Phantom’s powerful scales and the unyielding embrace already molding his body. He shuddered. Or at least, tried to.
Another coil loops over his chest, pressing in, testing his breath.
Tighter. Tighter. Tighter!!! MORE!!! Perverse thoughts ran through his head.
"You're squirming." Phantom’s purr was a slow, velvety drag, savoring every shiver. "You’re grinding. That’s what you’re doing. I bet you’re loving this."
She shifts, her body winding higher, curling now all around him, her tits beneath his jaw. She relieved a little pressure in the collar only so that she could force his head back. Perfect pose, beautiful offering for her.
The Phantom-Snake spoke with three voices at once; masculine and feminine but most especially, powerful and godly. And with this voice, she whispered into his ear.
"Foolish thing. Even if you were unbound, you are already mine. The way you wriggle and thrash and buck and HUMP the air for even the smallest chance at pushing yourself over the edge, hoping to escape the neverending hellish heat and agony. All of that is for me.
“MNNGFFFGGG….”
She squeezed the last swears and curses out of his pretty head, and he lost all focus and possible concentration. All those fantasies and plans he had of escape left his mind as she swallowed those thoughts whole. Cinua’s face was as red as the magma below him. His felt hotter than the lava, exhaling steam, supernaturally horny, huffy, steamed to hell and back. The thick rubbery coils against everything. Phantom’s warm chest smothering him. And her thick, muscled lahmial form rubbing against his null bulge. And he thought about this forever.
MMMNGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!! HHHRRNGh-HMmnmnghh… NNGGGHOOOOO!
The energy of Phantom’s scales seeped through the rubber and she managed to squeeze one tiny micro-orgasm out of his pathetic null-bulged manhood. And good God, for however tiny it was, it was the most intense little thing he’d felt in his entire life. Trapped between two prisons; one inflated rubber, one living and merciless. His last act of defiance, his struggling, was snuffed and became the earnest eager grinding, over and over and over and over, as he managed to enjoy Phantom’s largesse. She had inscribed her own rune on his null bulge, indicating his infinite torment, his unending need, and thusly had given him the tiniest, most useless modicum of a half-cum. Barely enough to reduce the tension, just enough for him to realize that this was indeed the best that he could hope for. Utter destruction of his ego, of pleading and begging for a ruined half-orgasm? Yes. That was his fate. Sealed. Literally.
Cinny’s eyes rolled up, his face completely red from the heat, the lack of air, the intense shame and humiliation and pain he felt. Phantom looked deep into his eyes now, and she placed each hand on his bulging packed cheeks so she could get in closer.
“You’re so hot. Almost as hot as me. I couldn’t seal up your eyes, not like this. Even though you know I love my rubbersluts anonymous. That can come later. I just really wanted, no…” Phantom looked down for a moment, biting her lip, then back up. Her eyes glowed a viridian.
“I wanted to see your eyes PLEADING. I wanted to see the sweat trickling down your face. I can’t imagine how hot it is. All the magma long since sealed and melted that suit together. Steam wafting off your body, it’s a good thing that it’s giving you all that supernatural resistance to damage. But not arousal. Never that. You’re so weak to me, puppy.”
Every exhale steamed up. The only thing hotter than Phantom was Cinua. Every thrust, every miniature gasp feeling another orgasm coming but so far. Rubbing without hope. Phantom was gently running fingers over his forehead as he did so, eyes rolling back, but unable to see what she was inscribing.
“This brand on your forehead indicates to anyone that sees you who and what you are, if they look close. My devoted servant. My desperate little objectified pup. My rubber-sealed loser. The glyph on your bulge promising you endless edging until I have use of all that perma-pent up energy. And the one on your forehead letting me… tighten my grip on you.”
Phantom squeezed again, this time squeezing until Cinua passed out. As his vision went hazy, Phantom planted a kiss on his forehead. There wasn’t an inch left of Cinua’s flesh, nothing to see here!
She wasn’t joking about ‘getting a grip’ on him, either. As she relented, as he fell unconscious (experiencing climax that she’d have to work on, best to keep him much more needy) he was bathed in light. Phantom held out her hand, and the long magical staff that held the Ophidian Idol flew into her hands. The flat, cylindrical end of the staff was suddenly home to Cinnybun; shrunken down, magically preserved, sealed, and squirming. In her grip at all times, always close, and now degraded so much that ‘he’ was just a rubber totem to power her spells. At least, until he started to wear out and needed some time in the tomb… but until then, he’d be a powerful battery for every spell she cast.
And she needed his power. Phantom suspected that his master Raikano was probably closing in on the entrance, expecting Cinua victorious and Phantom bound. Time to show him just how powerful Cinny could be in the right hands.