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jeriendhalOkay, she was not panicking.
Absolutely not panicking.
Because panicking involved screaming and crying, and she really didn't have the room, or the air, for that.
“Safeword,” she said. Then a bit louder, “Safeword.”
Odd, how sometimes you could say something and not really hear your own voice. Must have been the blood pounding in her ears.
There was a very loud thump overhead, and the sound of something large and heavy being pulled away dropping to the floor with a crash. That had to the outer lid to the sarcophagus then. She let herself relax finally. Rescue was coming, and the final act to this little power play created by her beloved, imaginative tormentor.
The heavy inner door the sarcophagus was flipped back, and bright light stabbed at her eyes, the stagey torchlight of the temple replaced by bright florescents that had been hidden in the temple's ceiling. But that didn't matter, because as things came back into focus she saw the face of her beloved, Master Khan, the tigermorph who held her leash with such sweet tension. Which would be great, except that instead of cool amusement or cruel anticipation on his face, there was an expression of panic. And Groupmind morphs simply did not panic.
Steel claws flashed, and the mummy wrappings enveloping her from neck to toes were opened up in one swipe, easing the pressure on her chest. Except there really wasn't any change in pressure, nor could she seem to feel it as his leathery fingerpads stoked her cheek, his panic turning to a look of infinite sorrow.
“Beloved, I am sorry,” he murmured, “I made a mistake.”
She wanted to say a cheerful, “Hey, Khanie, it's okay,” if only to get a typical rise out of him for daring to use the diminutive term of affection. It always guaranteed a brief bit of sweet punishment. Except that her jaws and tongue refused to form the words. Why couldn't she form the words?
Oh crap....
Khan's arms slipped underneath her body, lifting it up out of the sarcophagus. As she rose, her point of view seemed to drift, rising upward until she was looking down at her own body cradled in his strong arms, her face gray and bloodless, her eyes open and unseeing.
“The problem with playing on the edge,” one of the people in an online kink forum had once said to her, “is that sometimes you fall off it.”
Oh great, I'm dead. Now what?
The “what” answered itself as the world seemed to dissolve into a wash of white light. She blinked, happy for a moment to find that she could blink, even if it felt like the mummy wrappings were hugging her again. The world came back into focus, resolving into a blood red sky above her, as she rocked at the bottom of long, narrow boat, the prow and stern curving up high at either end. Towards the back she could see a tall, cloaked figure pushing the boat along, his features hidden in the folds of his robe, only a pair of skeletal hands visible as they pushed the pole along.
“Um, hi,” she said, regaining her voice. She cleared her throat experimentally and continued, “I think there's been a mistake. This isn't the afterlife I signed up for.” There was definitely a lack of Saint Peter for one thing, and though she could never have been accused of being a strict Catholic, Charon and the River Styx ought to have been right out.
The boat came to the shore, and ghostly tendrils of mist rose to carry her body out of the boat towards a huge temple complex, long rows of five story tall sandstone columns rising to either side of the processional pathway, leading to the step pyramid.
Okay, the temple complex is definitely Luxor, I've walked through the VR recreation, but the pyramid is Aztec. I can't even have a consistent incorrect afterlife.
Apparently the afterlife also had a bit of an ADD problem, for the mist closed in on her briefly and she found herself at the top of the pyramid lying on a sacrificial stone slab, after skipping the no doubt lengthy transit up the thousand or so steps of stairs. Oh, good. At least it's a well-edited incorrect afterlife.
At the top of the stairs were a pair of figures, so utterly black it was difficult to tell if they had black skin, black fur, or were carved of obsidian, the light from the sun overhead being absorbed rather than reflected. They were both Egyptian, no doubt, with humanoid bodies, the one of the left heavily muscled and topped with the head of a hawk, no doubt Horus, the other slimmer and topped with that of a jackal, also no doubt...
“Wait a minute,” she out loud, “I'm pretty sure Anubis didn't have tits.”
Horus and Anubis-With-Tits exchanged bemused looks, golden eyeshadow in traditional Egyptian style aiding her in deciphering their expressions. Apparently Horus got the short straw, for he turned towards her and said in a booming voice, ANNA QUIYANG QUISLING, YOUR LIFE SHALL BE JUDGED.
“Yeesh, did you learn how to talk from Princess Luna?”
Horus blinked, then continued, YOUR HEART SHALL BE WEIGHED, TO SEE IF YOU ARE WORTHY TO PASS FORWARD TO THE AFTERLIFE.
“Okay, but if I fail can I retake the test later?”
They ignored that one, and Anubis-With-Tits pulled out a set of old fashioned scales, setting it on the end of the altar. On one plate she placed a feather, and the other a...
“Ewwww!”
WHAT? Horus demanded.
“It's still beating.”
Anubis-With-Tits finally spoke up, WHAT WERE YOU EXPECTING?
“I don't know, maybe something a little more metaphorical?”
SILENCE! Anubis-With-Tits said firmly, and released the scales. They wobbled a bit, and then finally her heart rose slightly.
“Oh, good. Does that mean I pass?”
There was a long pause, and then Horus said reluctantly, YES. BARELY.
Part of her thought she really should be taking this more seriously, but there was a giddy high running through her like after a great play session with Khan, which seemed to shut off the editor between her brain and her mouth. “Great. I hope the next part of the Great Beyond is a little more internally consistent.”
WHAT?
“Look, it's nothing on you, but I found myself on Charon's boat, which is Greek, unless the Romans are cribbing frm their mythology again, you and the temple complex are from Ancient Egypt, and the pyramid is from South America. I mean, can't you at least keep a coherent theme going here?”
Anubis-With-Tits sighed. YOU KNOW WHAT? BUGGER IT. BACK DOWN YOU GO. The jackal headed god grabbed the heart and shoved it back into Anna's chest. The world went white again...
...and she found herself back in her sarcophagus, the lid open, Khan looking down on her with a fond smile.
She took in a long breath, reveling in the feel of air entering her body. “Am I still dead?” she asked carefully.
Khan lifted her out carefully, cradling her mummified body in his strong arms, letting her head rest on his shoulder. “You never were,” he said softly.
“Then what the hell was all that?”
“A little play, both for your amusement and to test a theory.”
She wiggled a little in her cocoon, as his wide paw stroked her sweat matted hair. “I don't get it. Was that a dream or what? It felt real while it was happening.”
He sat back on a couch, still cradling her, the sarcophagus having been transferred a smaller more intimate room while she'd hallucinated. “It should have. Your sarcophagus is actually a very sophisticated MRI scanner/transmitter.”
“'Transmitter?'” She thought that through, her mind racing. “Wait, the Groupmind has finally figured out the trick of directed brain transmission?”
“Yes,” Khan replied. “But it only works if the subject is in a very relaxed and passive state Alpha state. In Subspace, as it were.”
She chuckled weakly, “So you've created a mind fuck machine, but it only works if the person is either very kinky or very Zen, and locked in a coffin.”
“Exactly. Which presents a limited utility, We admit.”
“Oh, God, you've created the Kinky Matrix.” She giggled, still running on a bit of an endorphin high. “So what was the deal with the inconsistent afterlife and the two very confused gods?”
Khan's chest rumbled, as he laughed deeply, “The sub AI's running the program were instructed to create a scenario that would make you believe you'd passed on, so that any internal inconsistencies could be overlooked as being part of your dream state. Apparently they weren't ready for you being a careful world builder at heart.”
She wiggled a little more in wrappings, enjoying the feeling of helplessness. “So, what are you going to do when you perfect this? Chuck everyone back into stasis so they won't cause trouble?”
Khan was silent.
“You aren't going to do that, are you?” she asked carefully.
“It is the subject of some internal debate in Our consciousness. Obviously doing so would severely impact human free will, which is an anathema to Us.”
“To the majority of 'Us',” she corrected.
“For the moment, yes. The temptation to... well...”
“Keep us out of trouble?” she prompted.
“Is a powerful argument. But in all likelihood it will take several centuries before it even becomes a worry.”
“Well that's nice. And what does the part of the Groupmind that is the Great and Powerful Khan think of all this? Do you want to control my mind?”
His paw cupped the back of her head, raising her face to his, “I have all the control I need over you I need,” he breathed, then kissed her.
Absolutely not panicking.
Because panicking involved screaming and crying, and she really didn't have the room, or the air, for that.
“Safeword,” she said. Then a bit louder, “Safeword.”
Odd, how sometimes you could say something and not really hear your own voice. Must have been the blood pounding in her ears.
There was a very loud thump overhead, and the sound of something large and heavy being pulled away dropping to the floor with a crash. That had to the outer lid to the sarcophagus then. She let herself relax finally. Rescue was coming, and the final act to this little power play created by her beloved, imaginative tormentor.
The heavy inner door the sarcophagus was flipped back, and bright light stabbed at her eyes, the stagey torchlight of the temple replaced by bright florescents that had been hidden in the temple's ceiling. But that didn't matter, because as things came back into focus she saw the face of her beloved, Master Khan, the tigermorph who held her leash with such sweet tension. Which would be great, except that instead of cool amusement or cruel anticipation on his face, there was an expression of panic. And Groupmind morphs simply did not panic.
Steel claws flashed, and the mummy wrappings enveloping her from neck to toes were opened up in one swipe, easing the pressure on her chest. Except there really wasn't any change in pressure, nor could she seem to feel it as his leathery fingerpads stoked her cheek, his panic turning to a look of infinite sorrow.
“Beloved, I am sorry,” he murmured, “I made a mistake.”
She wanted to say a cheerful, “Hey, Khanie, it's okay,” if only to get a typical rise out of him for daring to use the diminutive term of affection. It always guaranteed a brief bit of sweet punishment. Except that her jaws and tongue refused to form the words. Why couldn't she form the words?
Oh crap....
Khan's arms slipped underneath her body, lifting it up out of the sarcophagus. As she rose, her point of view seemed to drift, rising upward until she was looking down at her own body cradled in his strong arms, her face gray and bloodless, her eyes open and unseeing.
“The problem with playing on the edge,” one of the people in an online kink forum had once said to her, “is that sometimes you fall off it.”
Oh great, I'm dead. Now what?
The “what” answered itself as the world seemed to dissolve into a wash of white light. She blinked, happy for a moment to find that she could blink, even if it felt like the mummy wrappings were hugging her again. The world came back into focus, resolving into a blood red sky above her, as she rocked at the bottom of long, narrow boat, the prow and stern curving up high at either end. Towards the back she could see a tall, cloaked figure pushing the boat along, his features hidden in the folds of his robe, only a pair of skeletal hands visible as they pushed the pole along.
“Um, hi,” she said, regaining her voice. She cleared her throat experimentally and continued, “I think there's been a mistake. This isn't the afterlife I signed up for.” There was definitely a lack of Saint Peter for one thing, and though she could never have been accused of being a strict Catholic, Charon and the River Styx ought to have been right out.
The boat came to the shore, and ghostly tendrils of mist rose to carry her body out of the boat towards a huge temple complex, long rows of five story tall sandstone columns rising to either side of the processional pathway, leading to the step pyramid.
Okay, the temple complex is definitely Luxor, I've walked through the VR recreation, but the pyramid is Aztec. I can't even have a consistent incorrect afterlife.
Apparently the afterlife also had a bit of an ADD problem, for the mist closed in on her briefly and she found herself at the top of the pyramid lying on a sacrificial stone slab, after skipping the no doubt lengthy transit up the thousand or so steps of stairs. Oh, good. At least it's a well-edited incorrect afterlife.
At the top of the stairs were a pair of figures, so utterly black it was difficult to tell if they had black skin, black fur, or were carved of obsidian, the light from the sun overhead being absorbed rather than reflected. They were both Egyptian, no doubt, with humanoid bodies, the one of the left heavily muscled and topped with the head of a hawk, no doubt Horus, the other slimmer and topped with that of a jackal, also no doubt...
“Wait a minute,” she out loud, “I'm pretty sure Anubis didn't have tits.”
Horus and Anubis-With-Tits exchanged bemused looks, golden eyeshadow in traditional Egyptian style aiding her in deciphering their expressions. Apparently Horus got the short straw, for he turned towards her and said in a booming voice, ANNA QUIYANG QUISLING, YOUR LIFE SHALL BE JUDGED.
“Yeesh, did you learn how to talk from Princess Luna?”
Horus blinked, then continued, YOUR HEART SHALL BE WEIGHED, TO SEE IF YOU ARE WORTHY TO PASS FORWARD TO THE AFTERLIFE.
“Okay, but if I fail can I retake the test later?”
They ignored that one, and Anubis-With-Tits pulled out a set of old fashioned scales, setting it on the end of the altar. On one plate she placed a feather, and the other a...
“Ewwww!”
WHAT? Horus demanded.
“It's still beating.”
Anubis-With-Tits finally spoke up, WHAT WERE YOU EXPECTING?
“I don't know, maybe something a little more metaphorical?”
SILENCE! Anubis-With-Tits said firmly, and released the scales. They wobbled a bit, and then finally her heart rose slightly.
“Oh, good. Does that mean I pass?”
There was a long pause, and then Horus said reluctantly, YES. BARELY.
Part of her thought she really should be taking this more seriously, but there was a giddy high running through her like after a great play session with Khan, which seemed to shut off the editor between her brain and her mouth. “Great. I hope the next part of the Great Beyond is a little more internally consistent.”
WHAT?
“Look, it's nothing on you, but I found myself on Charon's boat, which is Greek, unless the Romans are cribbing frm their mythology again, you and the temple complex are from Ancient Egypt, and the pyramid is from South America. I mean, can't you at least keep a coherent theme going here?”
Anubis-With-Tits sighed. YOU KNOW WHAT? BUGGER IT. BACK DOWN YOU GO. The jackal headed god grabbed the heart and shoved it back into Anna's chest. The world went white again...
...and she found herself back in her sarcophagus, the lid open, Khan looking down on her with a fond smile.
She took in a long breath, reveling in the feel of air entering her body. “Am I still dead?” she asked carefully.
Khan lifted her out carefully, cradling her mummified body in his strong arms, letting her head rest on his shoulder. “You never were,” he said softly.
“Then what the hell was all that?”
“A little play, both for your amusement and to test a theory.”
She wiggled a little in her cocoon, as his wide paw stroked her sweat matted hair. “I don't get it. Was that a dream or what? It felt real while it was happening.”
He sat back on a couch, still cradling her, the sarcophagus having been transferred a smaller more intimate room while she'd hallucinated. “It should have. Your sarcophagus is actually a very sophisticated MRI scanner/transmitter.”
“'Transmitter?'” She thought that through, her mind racing. “Wait, the Groupmind has finally figured out the trick of directed brain transmission?”
“Yes,” Khan replied. “But it only works if the subject is in a very relaxed and passive state Alpha state. In Subspace, as it were.”
She chuckled weakly, “So you've created a mind fuck machine, but it only works if the person is either very kinky or very Zen, and locked in a coffin.”
“Exactly. Which presents a limited utility, We admit.”
“Oh, God, you've created the Kinky Matrix.” She giggled, still running on a bit of an endorphin high. “So what was the deal with the inconsistent afterlife and the two very confused gods?”
Khan's chest rumbled, as he laughed deeply, “The sub AI's running the program were instructed to create a scenario that would make you believe you'd passed on, so that any internal inconsistencies could be overlooked as being part of your dream state. Apparently they weren't ready for you being a careful world builder at heart.”
She wiggled a little more in wrappings, enjoying the feeling of helplessness. “So, what are you going to do when you perfect this? Chuck everyone back into stasis so they won't cause trouble?”
Khan was silent.
“You aren't going to do that, are you?” she asked carefully.
“It is the subject of some internal debate in Our consciousness. Obviously doing so would severely impact human free will, which is an anathema to Us.”
“To the majority of 'Us',” she corrected.
“For the moment, yes. The temptation to... well...”
“Keep us out of trouble?” she prompted.
“Is a powerful argument. But in all likelihood it will take several centuries before it even becomes a worry.”
“Well that's nice. And what does the part of the Groupmind that is the Great and Powerful Khan think of all this? Do you want to control my mind?”
His paw cupped the back of her head, raising her face to his, “I have all the control I need over you I need,” he breathed, then kissed her.
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Date: 2014-02-05 07:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-02-06 12:43 am (UTC)I liked this.