Chapter 2 The Maker #3
“You protest?” Ptah asked, his voice as calm as ever. “You have shared yourselves with others many times.”
“Yes, but… this feels different.” I sneered at the Meryt doll as I stepped around him, effectively between him and Ptah.
He had not stopped dancing and looked at me with undeterred contentment.
“This is wrong. He is not able to act, or argue, or choose anything by his own impulses, because it isn’t really him. ”
“You could choose before?”
“We could,” I snapped at Ptah, and then bowed my head again to calm my countenance.
But no. I raised my chin, for I would not be cowed in this.
“We might have faced punishment, banishment, or worse if we refused what was asked of us, but we still could have chosen to rebel, just as I am choosing to raise my voice to you now, come what may. For all the times we wondered what may have been if the gods had granted us a different life, we liked our life because we had each other, and so we chose to remain in it, again and again.” I glanced at the dancing doll, but a doll was all it was, wasn’t it?
“But you could have that again, almost exactly. Better.” Ptah took my hand nearest to him and placed it on Meryt’s stomach.
He arched into my touch and danced closer to me.
“Better because you would not have to continue this journey and its perilous trials.”
I moved my other hand to Meryt’s waist instinctively.
“You could have Meryt back without compromise. Without worry. Without obstacles. Go on, feel for yourself how real he is.”
As Meryt writhed beneath my touch, I felt further up the curves of his body like Ptah had, and the heat from his dark stare was almost right. I couldn’t not explore this beloved body when presented before me as mine, swaying in dance and starting to moan from my touch.
He danced closer, hips aligning with mine, and leaned in for a kiss.
“Oh Meryt…”
His tongue and its smooth, wet heat felt the same as always when it slid between my lips.
His hands spreading upon my stomach and then wrapping around my waist the way I held him felt the same too.
Even his grinding hips and the spring of his firm cock felt the same…
I kissed him deeper, desperately, deliriously even, and then pulled back to look him in the eyes. His eyes…
They were the right color. They looked at me with deep affection. But behind them…
“He is a facsimile, yes, but a flawless one,” Ptah said, as the doll of Meryt reached beneath the fall of my loincloth, “and he will remain perfect, young and vibrant and obedient for you, always.”
Behind the doll’s eyes was nothing.
“Obedient…” I repeated.
The doll dropped to its knees, smiling emptily at me, and took my length out from behind my cloth, guiding it toward his mouth.
“Stop,” I ordered with far more bite than I had used when denying Ptah, holding the doll back with a hand on its shoulder, “I do not want this.”
“Nakht?” Those familiar but wrong eyes fluttered their painted lids at me. “My love—”
“I want my Meryt.” I stepped back from the kneeling fake and looked at Ptah seated on the daybed.
“Real and flawed and able to choose for himself. It isn’t fair to call any part of him flawed anyway.
I wouldn’t have him perfected. I would have him as he was, as he chooses to be, even if we age and change beyond the beauty of youth.
Even if we fight. And we do. We will again if I save him, I am sure of it.
And I would welcome that. Is choice not what it means to truly live and love? ”
Ptah’s expression was neutral. “Even if you fail and earn no version of Meryt at all?”
“Yes,” I said, not needing to look at the doll again to answer.
Ptah snapped his fingers, prompting the doll to immediately stand, its face becoming equally as neutral as it awaited its next order. “I commend you, Nakht, for I believe you were tempted by this trial.”
“Only because I miss him.” I dared glance at the almost right face. It was nice to see it. “But a fake is still a fake.”
Ptah rose and stepped between me and the doll. He was tall but only just slightly taller than I was.
I was undeniably hard, ashamedly so, still pooling prerelease from how close I had come to succumbing to desire over sense, as Ptah reached beneath my loincloth to take me in hand.
“Agreed,” he said, “but I cannot very well leave you like this when you might yet choose to stay and serve me.”
“My lord—”
“I have many trinkets and toys you might enjoy, Nakht. I do so enjoy creating. Shall we see what else your maker god can offer to tempt you?”
The lines along Ptah’s skin swirled in constant motion over every part of him, including his fingers and the palm of his hand that he used to grip me. I swallowed, body aflame but mind clear. “You can try, my lord, but I will not be swayed from my path.”
Ptah grinned, not even needing to stroke me, for the movement of his strange, miraculous skin was enough. “A confident creation too. This is another of my creations.” He reached with his other hand to grip his false beard and twisted it off with a snap, removing it, however it had attached to him.
I still was not certain how it did, for what was left behind on Ptah’s chin was a thin blue strip like lapis lazuli fused into it, instead of allowing any real hair to grow.
He had none, I realized then; he was utterly smooth, even above his eyes.
“Feel it,” he said, holding the beard out to me, as the oscillations of the skin on the hand fondling me continued to bring me to further hardness.
I took the beard, oblong like others I was used to of these false but fashionable adornments. I had taken it for gold and other metals or stone, but it was more pliable than I expected, like it was molded from something softer.
In truth, its size and shape, and now feeling its texture, made me certain of what Ptah planned to do with it before I looked up to see the stretch of his grin.
“Shall I show you what it can do?”
I frowned. “You might try to tempt me, my lord, but understand that I only shared pleasures with Anubis because Meryt was watching us.”
“Oh, he still does.”
“Not the doll—” I scowled.
“Not the doll,” Ptah interrupted. “But because you requested it, Meryt sees all you want him to see even when you do not see him.”
The urge to look for him again, the real him, was strong, but I did not think it would be that easy. Not yet. “In that case, knowing this remains part of my trials and all the temptations I have yet to weather... show me as you have asked to, so I might continue to please my beloved.”
Ptah nodded. He took the false beard back from me, reached around beneath me, and I widened my stance to better allow the slow insertion of it where I had so recently been taken by Anubis.
While I had been cleansed, I was still stretched and wet from that encounter, and the object entered me as smoothly as any toy or cock ever had, as if its material was made to be used in this manner.
Then, to my immediate amazement, its braided components unraveled as it settled within me and grazed up along my walls like tendrils.
“Ah!” I tipped forward into Ptah’s waiting embrace. He still held my length, and now, some of the cords of his creation were winding out of my entrance as well, forming a supportive base to hold it inside me and pushing against the sensitive patch of skin between my entrance and the hang of my sac.
My knees nearly buckled, but Ptah’s strong body supported me. I could feel the strain of his cock against his robe wetting my thigh where it pressed against me. He had soaked through his gossamer fabric as tellingly as I had mine.
But I hated that the doll of Meryt stood behind him, lifeless save its open eyes.
Ptah must have noticed the diversion of my attention, for he tilted his head, though he didn’t fully look at the doll before ordering, “Leave us be.”
The creation moved back toward the worktable. Allowed to be the empty vessel it truly was, its movements were even more alien to my eyes, and as I watched it, I wondered how I ever could have thought it was almost right, but I supposed that was the nature of temptation.
“Come.” Ptah drew my attention back to him. “Move with me.”
He pivoted us and backed up toward the daybed, putting the Meryt doll at my back. We moved only a short distance, but moving at all coaxed the unbraided cords to climb deeper inside me.
My knees shook, and I nearly sank again with my next step.
“Relax, for I am more than just a craftsman with my creations. I breathed real life into the world as well, into everything, even the other gods.”
As we reached the daybed and Ptah bumped back against it, I bumped against him.
Bodies entwined with nowhere else to go, he kissed me.
Anubis hadn’t. Not many of the soldiers or elite in Pharaoh’s court did either.
Pharaoh had, he had kissed both me and Meryt, but usually, it was only my beloved’s lips that I felt on mine.
And I had never had my breath so thoroughly stolen.
Because Ptah… was literally taking it!
I wavered, mind hazy as I gasped for breath I couldn’t catch. It was as if something squeezed my lungs, and I could only draw in the barest amount of air, just enough to keep from falling into unconsciousness. The sensation was oddly…
Euphoric.
Ptah kissed me deeper, and it was like an exhale this time, with him breathing the life back into me, but with an abundance, so much abundance that I felt as if my lungs, my veins, my cock might burst if I was any fuller with life.
This too was euphoric, but also an invincible feeling, as though I could crush Ptah to dust in my arms.
I wondered if I could, for when he pulled back from me, his skin no longer held its green hue at all. It was a more common tone, bronzy like mine, because he had breathed so much extra life into me.