Chapter 2 - Dawn of the New Age:

The next morning: 

Osira mused, after waking up the next morning and finding herself slick with sweat as her sister's former lover, now changed to an absolute loyalty to herself, that this new power was something she could enjoy very much. She had marched into the Palace with six sons each worth an entire army of Egypt by themselves. Always something had gone dreadfully wrong with her plans, some element sent them askew and awry. Not now. She had already had the first hieroglyphs done with the Set-name, Sebastillion's tongue was giving her the pleasures she knew it had given her little sister......

And her gaze turned to Opala, who sat on the floor, nude. 

Her teeth were bared in that unsmile that she had made but yesterday. 

"Who is Queen of Egypt, Opala?" 

This was the first test. She had taken a set of gambles with this power to alter perceptions in any way she could wish. Her writ was law, now. The world, as she saw it, which was in all truth the only way to see it or to have seen it, was the world that everyone else in the world would see too....save two. The challenge her mother would pose she would face when Farah finally dragged herself in, which was a matter of when, not if. 

For Opala, there was a crueler prison. She was still herself, in most ways, save two. The first was that at any insult from her sister she would get wet, and the second was intertwined. She knew that she had succeeded only because of luck, and that the very idea of herself as a Queen was now an unthinkable joke and that only the Queen could have those she loved most. 

"You are, my Dark Empress." 

With those words and the right moves of the Panther's tongue and nose Osira came with a low moaning pleasure, her gaze fixed on her sister, who could not look away. 

"Why am I Empress?" 

"Because you are the Firstborn." 

Osira gave her that sinister grin that made her flush. 

"So what then were you?" 

"A usurper," she spoke. 

"That's right." 

She kept her legs spread and let the panther work as she kept her hands behind her head for a bit, moaning and her hips moving as he worked her to two more orgasms. 

"The fun part of these new powers, Opala, is that you and you alone remember that but yesterday you were Queen and beloved by your people." 

Sebastillion moved away at her unconscious wish and Osira smirked each time she saw that power, turning to her side and leaving her legs open, Opala's gaze drawn there. 

"Beloved, in spite of being a spoiled little slut who fucked any guard with a big enough dick, and needing five champions to fight for you because you were brave, but bravery is not skill." 

Opala leaned forward, the heat of arousal coursing through her and she panted. 

Osira grinned then. 

"Stupid little cunt," she hissed and Opala moaned. 

The Empress laughed and then sat up, as she beckoned. 

"I want to see who's a better pussy-licker, you or the pussy." 

Her sister crawled to her, her body a true wonder made by the Gods. Osira had no hesitation to name Opala and Farah two of the most beautiful women she'd ever seen. It was a thing that had frustrated her that her sister's beauty was lesser than her own, that her stamina was lesser, that of them all the only magic she had was to let herself be bred by her own choice (admittedly not so small a gift next to their mother or herself). All of the pleasure, all the partners she wished, none of the risks. 

Opala was in front of her now and on her knees. 

"This is where you belong, little sister," she said as she threaded her hands through her hair. 

"Not pretending to be something or someone you're not and that you never were." 

"Yes, my Empress," Opala's voice was a low purr and then with her sister's guidance her face was plunged into her sister's cunt, which she ate out with a frenetic passion. 

"My, yes...." Osira purred. "I know how good you are, we've had our own fun at times." She shivered with heat and delight as her sister's nose brushed against her clit and her sister moved her head with that trained skill and her family's divinely granted sexual gifts. It was traditional for Pharaohs and their family to seek love within their own ranks. Usually it was the ideology of power, that the flesh of those who were the living Horus was sacred beyond other flesh. 

Documents in archives spoke of stunted and inbred products of this ideology, and that those who had spread it were but mortal men. Gods were real, and so was their power. The way her inner thighs and her labia reacted to tongue and nose, to kisses as if Opala were making out with and claiming Osira's snatch for her own and where that heat blazed as powerfully as the blazing winds of Set's own power.....that was the gap between the ideology of the divine and its true manifestation. 

She knew her sister was phoning it in in part, part of the rebellious power she granted her, a gift that was itself a cruel twist of her own sense of humor and power that her sister would only slowly grasp. The simple matter was that she had been given the power to do anything she wanted, and Osira had learned enough from her other failures to know that unfettered domination would be boring. It would be absolute power, then a gate to absolute madness. 

Too, it would be a delight to have the tables turned. To have herself in her rightful place, the sister beloved by all, the eternal living Pharaoh and lady and mistress of all Egypt. To have her little sister who was pushing her whole face into her pussy as if it was the most delicious thing she'd ever tasted, as if she wanted to drown in Osira's pussy (now there was an image but it would not be something she'd allow, too direct a fate and too kind a one) remade into the resentful and hateful sister who schemed for the throne. 

It was a dirty little secret of Opala's Egypt that where she was popular there had always been a contingent of the priests who even without her power of the wish had seen Opala's reign as a usurpation, as a theft of something that was never hers to claim. Even without her power they had blamed Opala for all the chaos that Osira created, and now.....

As she came twice with her eyes rolling in her head and leaned back on that bed, lying on her back and squirting and coating her sister's face until Opala looked like a drowned cat and had the expression of one. 

Now that vision would be matched by reality as others saw it. 

Osira sighed in contentment, humming.

"Very good, Opala," she grinned. 

She looked at her sister and saw the way the little slut fidgeted. 

"Is something wrong, Opala?" 

Her sister gave her that stare that would have had armies at her beck and call otherwise. Her brows were furrowed and she saw her flush and knew something of what she suspected. Indeed it was when her sister gasped: 

"May I please cum, Empress?" 

Osira put her fingers on her chin in a mockery of thought. 

Opala went prostrate, a kind of humility that went beyond anything she'd enforced with her whenever she bested her schemes. She even wiggled herself as if she were a cur of the kind that infested streets. 

"No," said Osira. "You may not." 

Opala whined and at that Osira sighed and got up and then raised her hand and brought it down on her sister's ass four times on each cheek with a brute force that made Opala yelp in shock. 

"Don't." 

That was all she said and Opala gulped and nodded. 

"Why do you let me remember?" She said when Osira went to her wardrobe and picked her skirt and then a set of bands and laid them on the bed. 

"Because it's so much more fun for me." 

Osira turned to her with that smile. 

"Now dress me like a good servant," her voice was a hiss and Opala, from her prostrate position said "Yes, my Empress." 

With her sister's aid, she was dressed, the skirt pulled up around her waist, the ankle bracelet and arm band secured. Osira held up her arms as her sister slipped down her top, a white garment that was form-fitting and showed off Osira's ample shape. 

She then handed Opala a loincloth that hid nothing and was beyond anything even slaves wore. 

"Patterned," she said with an over-wide grin, "over mom's clothes from when she was a dancing girl." 

Opala slipped it around her waist and sighed as her shoulders slumped. 

Osira slipped her own hand beneath that chin and slid in for a tender kiss, one that Opala melted into. 

"You know that all of this is about Egypt," she said as she gestured around them. 

"Now that I have the throne I could be the dark tyrant you were expecting, and to be fair Dark Empress is a term fitting that." 

She patted her sister's cheek with mocking tenderness. 

"But all that would do is prove you right." 

Then as she stepped away she ran her fingers through Sebastillion's fur and scritched him behind his ears, as she said, "Follow," and  Opala followed them, behind Osira and her new guardian. 

-------

In a day's time she had worked her power through the land where the writ of Egypt's Gods and Goddesses held true. Most memories had been changed along with various buildings and aspects of things that fit old wishes and thoughts of hers. Most, but not all. Somewhere out there, for she had not been in the Palace last night, her mother lurked. The very power of the Gods could not overcome that one's potency and where Opala was well-meaning but in the end weak and spoiled, Farah could all too easily fuck her way out of times like this in the past. 

She knew from her sister's casual manner in looking around her that she expected this, that some element engineered by their mother's raw sexual stamina could bypass this. That some Hero, perhaps a Hero of Time, could show up and topple her from the throne. She could see in Opala's shoulders rising the old cycle starting. First the slump of failure and the recognition of her sister's magic in full power. 

Now the determination that with her memory intact she could set right what went wrong. Osira shook her head with a grim amusement and then there was the first sign of the new order before them at the gate to the throneroom. 

Mother, knelt Polyphemus, one of her monster-sons and one of the mightiest, a demigod in his own way. Son of the Greek God of the Sea. 

"My darling boy," she said with pride. 

Polyphemus looked around and then grinned at them with bloodied teeth. 

Eating is good, Mother. 

She patted his knuckles. 

"Traitors do taste good, don't they?" 

The Cyclops laughed and Opala looked at him with disgust. 

She stumbled when Osira backhanded her with sufficient force to leave a great red mark on her cheek, her tits jiggling with her motions. 

"You will show your nephew respect!" 

Opala gulped and held her cheek and bowed before Polyphemus who chuckled and spoke in the Hellenic dialect. Opala didn't understand but Osira did and she laughed and nodded to her main bodyguard beyond. 

The door opened then by her own hand and with Opala at her left and Sebastillion at her right she went to the throne, hooking a collar around her sister's neck and tying it to the left arm of the throne. It pulled so that Opala leaned with her legs spread and her pussy visible to anyone who wished to see that sight, while Sebastillion lounged exactly as he did with her. Mornings were always the time for audiences, evening for anything the bureaucracy threw at her. 

For Osira's own part she enjoyed that the morning was like those Opala was accustomed to, people stepping in and going prostrate before the living Set, issuing those judgments and granting requests. Peasants, mostly, with a few soldiers and one priest. A normal morning, and where Opala sometimes balked at the tedium of routine this was what Osira had spent much of her early life when she wasn't fucking her father's brains out to keep him on her side when he'd declared Opala the heir at what she knew was her mother's corrupting influence. 

That morning passed in swiftness, the peasants and especially the soldiers' gaze lingering on Opala, who couldn't help but remain Opala, exactly as Osira wished her. She wasn't modest, she had never been that. She showed her body and hoped desperately that people would read the appeal and instead they simply saw as Osira wished and as Opala was realizing with that sinking realization was the case. That her sister had neither lied nor boasted, merely spoken a simple yet blunt truth. 

Their gaze lingered on her breasts and their swell and on the ways Opala's hips and body moved in reaction to tugs on the chain or various other gestures. It could have been concerning or a display of arrogance, instead it was Osira flexing her power over her sister after another of Opala's failed bids to take that which was never hers. This had been one of the things where things had gone wrong before, one person would see too much of Opala and the reactions she brought in them and the rising of their cocks in salute to her beauty would overwhelm them. 

The cocks still rose, the women's pussies were still wet, but it was no more relevant than the coloration of the throne itself. 

--------

Farah knew something had gone very, very dreadfully wrong yesterday at high noon. Light had shone, brilliant and red and with a scorching heat and she had seen people's manners change, had seen buildings shift subtly. Most frighteningly a poster with her younger daughter's beautiful, adorable smiling face had changed to a sterner expression of her older one's. 

From 

Opala Cares 

to 

The Empress Protects, Osira Guards the Black Lands. 

What puzzled her a bit was that this time, with all the other changes, her daughter still kept the marks from the panther's claws. By now, she supposed, Osira had become too used to them to change them. That had been the first danger, the second was the way the further changes had worked. Soldiers and garrisons had shifted. Strong brown men from light brown to the dark skin of Cush remained, their outfits subtly changed. 

Now Osira's monsters were a part of the garrisons and her commander, a dour and brutish-looking man with a stout strength named Ay was in command. Farah knew this, by virtue of the changes, by virtue of the ways the men and the monsters alike saluted him. 

Opala's own commander, a man named Seti, was now a stablehand cleaning the dung of one of Osira's favorite types of mounts, a thing that produced great reeking piles with a more than slightly acidic element. 

Her daughter had left her her memory, and she still had her beauty. 

She had spent the afternoon hiding, the night in a restless set of erotic dreams and had woken herself up by fisting herself and gasping with a panting relief when she twitched and came with a shuddering moan and her son's name on her lips. That was the early morning and then she'd gotten dressed, slipping on thigh-highs, a skirt, and a top that barely covered her tits and left her taut midriff exposed. 

That much her daughter had also not changed. 

"Nehas!" Her voice called, and her son neighed and went to the door. For a moment she couldn't resist a sigh of relief. So Osira had not tried to erase her brother's exi-and then she paused. 

Every other time Osira had her brief reigns of power and terror and error, Nehas vanished as surely as night into day. Her brother's birth was a thing that had disgusted her and led her to seduce her father. Farah still hated and resented that Osira had done it as easily as she had, that her husband had betrayed her as easily as she had done him. It might be hypocritical but she didn't care that much. 

So why did she do nothing about her brother? 

She went to the Palace, her royal dignity still intact, leading Nehas with her. The horse's keen human intelligence noticing things, too. She wondered, since he couldn't speak even if he could write, what he remembered and what he thought. He didn't sneer at the posters of his elder sister as Queen and that too was disturbing. Osira had not changed her approach and it was if anything a break from the tedium of politics and power. Why had she changed? 

The Palace was open to them, and they walked to the throneroom, seeing the statues of her husband in lieu of the ones she'd raised after his death, Opala's jewelry with its elegant femininity replaced with Osira's austere soldier-like atmosphere, though the banners were far more lavish and there was  gilding of a different pattern. 

-------

"Your mother's here," spoke one of the servitors, whose gaze lingered on her sister and with a nod of her head Osira let him lean down with a greedy smile as he groped Opala's tits and let her feel that pleasure and moan as she spread her legs and then when she'd reached the point of almost orgasming, Queen Mother Farah waiting with increasing irritation and anger beyond the doors, he stopped again as Opala shouted "Fuck! Stop doing that!" 

Osira laughed and scritched her sister behind the ear as she did Sebastillion. 

"Oh Opala, you don't get to cum anymore unless I want you to." 

"Let the whore in," she said to the servitor who cackled at Opala's visceral dislike. 

------

Farah never liked the Hellenic giant, the father of other Cyclopes and one of Osira's most brutish children. Seeing him outside the walls instead of the familiar lines of human guards spoke volumes about what Osira wanted to do with, and to, the people of Egypt and even her own monstrous progeny. 

With visible dignity she and Nehas both went in, the Cyclops giving them an unholy grin. 

"Osira," she said with a curt tone. There was only herself, Sebastillion, Nehas, and Opala in the room besides the Queen, for now. 

"Mother," Osira said with the disinterest and distaste of someone who'd misjudged a step and stepped in dung in brand new sandles. 

"This won't last, Osira, it never does." 

Osira slouched on the throne. 

"And what do you think you're going to do, Mother? Fuck the guards? Fuck your grandsons?" 

Farah glared at her. 

"It's worked before." 

Osira gave her a cold grin. 

"You still haven't wondered why I've allowed you to keep your memories, even though Nehas doesn't." 

Both Opala and Farah gave her that look then. 

And then Osira snapped her fingers and a few of the bureaucracy stepped in. 

"Let it be known on this date in the count of time since Ra made the world by casting his jism in to the chaos," she began in the formal statement of power and rule, "that Queen Mother Farah's youngest offspring Opala and Nehas are hereby declared bastards, and the Queen Mother is to be shorn of any true power she possesses besides the offering of her body." 

Farah froze. 

"Why?" Her question was a horrified shock. 

Osira leaned forward. 

"Because I want my dear brother as a part of things, after all." 

She looked to Opala, who stared at her with that sudden desperate shock and anger crossing her face. 

"And because," she said with her words drawled, "I want to note a simple truth. You bred yourself with Father's warhorse, a beast now dead, and had our brother. Who ages differently to horses and has human intellect. Why then should it be taken as a given that Ursa was our father's child at all?" 

Farah froze and the look on her face displayed that sudden dawning shock and as the courtiers nodded and recorded the information and would step out, Osira leaned forward still more, her nipples brushing just against her knees, nearly bent double. 

"Shame," Osira spoke with visible malice, "that your habits finally caught up with you, Mother, but there it is." And then she sat back, drumming her fingers against the arm of the throne. 

And then her smile became much more sinister as one of her other monsters, not a son but one of the entities that fathered them stepped in. He was a giant himself in a cloak with two glowing golden eyes all that was visible of his face and a great clawed hand. 

"And I don't think three siblings is nearly enough," she said with that tone of vicious amusement. 

Farah didn't have time to object before the giant took her and Osira unhooked the chain on the throne and let Opala follow with her as did Sebastillion. 

-------

Farah found herself in a corner of the Palace that had grown darker. 

The scorching heat of Osira's new magic was visible there and then something moved or skittered on eight legs and Farah found herself suspended by a great mass of something sticky and white that wasn't cum. 

"What?" Her voice was shocked as Osira put her arm around her sister, the arm moving to cup her left tit and to play with it. 

"Opala and I want a big family, mother dearest. And here's the most fun part of all. The thing that's about to do this is a daughter of a woman of Greece cursed by Athena." 

It moved now and was visible, a great spider-like being with a silver sheen to it, clambering up her back. 

"Cursed to be a spider, though the family can do something that most spiders can't." 

Farah gasped when something slipped into her wet cunt, as Osira crossed her arms, slipping off her skirt and her top and standing nude while leaving Opala's chain in Sebastillion's mouth. 

"These spiders, incidentally, remember what they were. When they're  born they'll be very, very hungry." 

Her smile was much colder and far more sinister then and something of the darkness within her shone at that moment, a coldness entering very akin to the old Osira, before she turned to her sister. 

"Congrats, little sister. Your first evil plan is in motion." 

"Huh?" Opala's shock turned her voice almost shrill as Osira booped her on the nose in a fine gesture of contempt. 

"You wouldn't be a very good resentful little sister if you didn't have plans going," her tone was that cold and amused contempt she'd given her as Opala felt that heat flowing. 

"I know you're too stupid and too naive to come up with one," and she laughed as Opala moaned and her hands slid to her tits, massaging them as she shivered and worked her nipples to hardness, "but that's all right. I'm still myself." 

And then Farah found herself moaning and shuddering when the creature's hardness against her slipped into her and she felt it rooting deep in her. It reached her cervix and Farah moaned in a deep pleasure as the magical gift of Hathor that had blessed her when in her mother's womb went into full effect again. Things began to slip in, by threes and then by dozens, as Opala watched in awed shock and arousal at the way her moth's belly began to swell outward as various lumps began to form in it. 

Osira's hand slid down her body, then, and she moaned more loudly as her sister began to finger her and worked in her entire fist with a roughness that made it hotter. 

They watched as their mother's belly continued to swell and grew and grew and grew, becoming a vast pebbly thing covered with ultimately, Osira estimated, around a couple thousand eggs before Arachne's daughter withdrew the ovipositor and a second thing slipped in. Farah stared at her belly and moaned with her tongue hanging out, a deep arousal visible on her face. 

"I lurve thish," she slurred. 

"I know," Osira laughed. 

"About time you were put to a proper use." 

Her sister's hips moved in unity with her hand as she flexed that fist inside Opala, who bent forward slightly and moaned with a trembling voice. 

"I've been the one to do the breeding of my own soldiers and I'll still be doing that from time to time," Osira grinned, "with my new patron. Pretty sure my magic still requires its fuel and I actually hope it does. Set has the best cock I've ever fucked." 

Opala was breathing heavily now, leaning forward, the heat coursing through her. The cum that sprayed into Farah's womb would slosh around all the eggs and then sealed her cervix and her pussy with a hard white crust. Farah too was panting heavily and excited. 

"That web will hold," Osira said with an amused tone, "for the entire span of your pregnancy." 

She looked at the spider. "How long?" 

Three weeks, Pharaoh. 

Osira threw her head back and laughed. 

"Nice," she said. "The Palace has a new work of art," and then a slight flex of her fist and a nod from her to Opala brought her little sister to a bellowing orgasm that led her hand to slip out of her wet pussy as Opala fell face forward, shuddering. Farah's head was above her own height and she turned to the spider. 

"How will she eat or stay alive?" 

A gift of the Gods, the spider's voice tittered. She shall neither want nor thirst for food or drink, merely hang in a web of pleasure, letting the magic work. Three weeks and the eggs shall grow, then the plug will fall and they will hatch. 

The spider tilted her cephalothorax in an unholy humanlike posture. 

And then they feast. The power of the Lord of the Red Sands will shield your family, human and equine alike. They will feast and they will spread. The Nile today, the unknown lands beyond it tomorrow. Our thanks for the gift, Pharaoh. 

Her foreleg brushed against Farah's ass as the Queen Mother made a semi-conscious sound of utter pleasure and her body jerked slightly, the webbing holding her still. 

And then the spider slipped back into darkness and would leave under the light of the waning Moon. 

Osira stepped to her mother, held above her to a point that her swollen egg-filled belly was in her face's vision, caressing along it as Farah put her head back and keened slightly with a genuine pleasure. Her hands marveled at the sensation, the eggs were soft and yet they didn't react more than moving slightly, her mother's belly swollen with that magic that was her own gift. 

Opala remained on all fours, shivering. 

Osira turned back to her. 

"Well," she said with that amused tone as her hands continued to caress her mother's belly and she pondered the changes. Maybe she'd keep a few of her new siblings for her army, or to eat those that weren't traitors in a way more subtle than what Polyphemus did, "no Farah and the magical do anything cunt bullshit." 

"Mother's right where she belongs," she said and then she kissed her belly and she heard her mother's low moans that were all she'd be able to do for speech for the next three weeks. 

"Pregnant, having children by my magic, completely unable to help you." 

"Gabrielle and the others-" 

Osira turned and folded her arms in front of her chest and shook her head. 

"Tomorrow I'll show you the new whores for the soldiers," she said, her grin a malevolent one. "Mine and the Egyptian Army both. Nobody's going to help you now, Opala. No champions. No abrupt, convenient twists from your friends. Laquadia, Gabrielle, any of those others..." 

She clasped her hands together. 

"They all have their own lusts and it's the easiest thing in the world to distract them with it, to keep them busy and content. The pact I swore says anything I wish can happen, that if I want to alter memories it will be as if it never was." 

She put her foot on her sister's neck and shoved her face hard into the floor. 

"And that means that when you see them tomorrow you'll remember them, all right. They won't remember you. All they'll know is pleasing the cocks of whatever soldier decides they're horny at those moments." 

Then she moved her foot off. 

"Now," she said, "I have kingdom business to do. You...." she then kicked her sister in the ass and Opala yelped at the kick, "are here because I'm going to figure out how to arrange for our old games to work when you don't have any magic but everyone thinks you are the bitter sibling who passed things over for magic." 

Her gaze returned to their mother. 

"Of course that one has a short term solution, admittedly, and maybe...." 

She shrugged. 

"I do have to formalize the notices that you aren't Father's child anymore," she said with that smug smile, "and Nehas is now officially our brother." 

She patted him on his neck and then gave Opala that cold grin. 

"It's a new age, Opala. You're not the beloved Queen anymore. I am." 

She then flexed her muscles slightly and prepared to step out. 

"And I'm going to be enjoying this, very very much." 

And then the door closed Sebastilion following her, as Opala rose to her knees. She remained in a room lit by torches with her pregnant mother and her brother beside her, on her knees. She remained there for a time before standing up and going to her mom. 

"I'm sorry mom," she said, as her hands massaged the bumpy mass that was Farah's belly, as she too marveled at the reality that there were thousands of eggs that would grow into spiders large enough to easily wrap themselves around a person. She shivered at the thought and then again at the idea that their family would balloon into being the size, easily, of a big town once these eggs hatched and that most of their family would be feral man-eating beasts. 

"I'll fix this. Osira always loses." 

Farah groaned in pleasure and it was clear she hadn't even heard Opala, who gave her mother a hug and then went to the door. 

That evening she would eat in the same room as Farah, this becoming a short-term tradition of Osira's to mark the first stages of her triumph. Osira had a royal meal with all the finery, she had coarse peasant food. 

"I never treated you like this," she grumbled. 

Osira shrugged. 

"True, but then you were always weak and unworthy of your throne. And now you're my half-sister, legally, so I don't have to treat you as royalty any more than I do." 

Opala grumbled but continued to eat the food and then the two would return with Sebastillion to Osira's room, where Opala would go to her cot and curl under a sheet as the bed rocked to Osira's contentment and the panther's moans. 

"Gonna fix this," Opala said in a half-asleep mumble and then she went into a very deep dreamless sleep. 
