Beyond his wildest dreams

Setting: Torino, Italy, 2025. Stefano, a broken archaeologist turned museum tour guide, has just discovered the Osiris ring, an ancient artifact that’s begun to awaken a primal, hypnotic power within him. His marriage to Jessica, a cheating realtor, is in ruins, and his daughter, Rebecca—a fiery redhead with emerald eyes and an athletic body—is his only solace. On Day 1, the ring’s influence is already twisting his thoughts, urging him to test its power and confront the dark urges it’s stirring.

The First Taste

The apartment was dim, the only light spilling from a cracked lampshade in the living room. Stefano’s pulse thrummed, the Osiris ring a cold weight on his finger, its hieroglyphs catching the faint glow like a predator’s eyes.

"Keep calm, Stefano... Everything is perfectly normal."

The violet tattoo on his left hand pulsed faintly, a slow burn that seemed to tug at his nerves, sharpening every sound—Rebecca’s whistling from her room, the creak of the floorboards, the distant hum of Torino’s nightlife. His notebook lay open on the desk, half-scribbled with frantic thoughts:

Power.

Breeding.

Domination.

He slammed it shut, heart pounding.

"F-Fuck!"

The ring’s whispers were relentless, curling through the middle-aged archeologist's mind like smoke, promising things he’d never dared imagine.

Not until now.

He stood, the air heavy with possibility, and called out, voice steadier than he felt. “Rebecca, can you come here a sec? Need help with this damn phone again.”

A lie, flimsy as hell, but the ring didn’t care.

Breed

Corrupt

Dominate

It wanted a test, and so did he. Stefano's tongue felt thick, tingling with the echo of ancient words from the temple vision—Sanskrit, maybe, or something older. While waiting, he slipped into the bathroom, the door half-open, and tugged his shirt up.

"Yes, everything is perfectly fin... What the fuck!!"

The tattoo stared back, its violet swirls deeper now, almost alive. He traced it with a fingertip, and a jolt shot through him, like lightning grounding in his gut. His reflection looked wrong—eyes sharper, his jaw once buried under layers of fat looked tighter with a hint of something feral as his masseter muscle bulged.

“What the fuck are you doing to me?” he muttered, half to the ring, half to himself. The artifact hummed, as if amused, he noticed a similar pattern starting to take root on the back of his left hand, pulsing with corrupt power.

Rebecca’s footsteps snapped him back. She appeared in the doorway, the slender beauty's red hair loose, wearing one of his loose shirts and shorts that hugged her toned thighs—years of athletics carved into every curve. “Phone acting up again, Dad?” she asked, smirking, but the pale vixen's emerald eyes lingered on him a beat too long.

Stefano’s throat tightened. The ring’s warmth spread, pooling in his chest, charging his deep baritone with demonic charisma. “Yeah, uh… can’t get the screen to unlock,” he said, holding out the phone. But as his daughter stepped closer, he let the ring guide him, the middle-aged man's words slowed to a hypnotic rhythm, deepening. “Take a look, sweetheart. Really look.”

The air shifted, heavy, like a storm brewing. Rebecca’s fingers brushed his as she took the phone, and he swore her breath hitched, the redhead vixen's pupils dilating just a fraction.

He didn’t stop there. Leaning against the bathroom sink, he kept her close, the tattoo hidden but its heat radiating. “You’re good at fixing things,” he said, voice low, testing the edge of intent. “Better than me these days.”

A half-truth, laced with something darker. Rebecca laughed, but it was softer, her cheeks flushing as she fumbled with the phone.

“Not true,” she murmured, glancing up, and fuck, those emerald eyes—bright, searching, maybe a little too curious.

The ring pulsed, urging him to push harder, to see how far she’d bend. But another part of him, the part still clinging to the man he’d been, screamed to pull back.

"I-I can't... Not to her."

His hand drifted to the tattoo instinctively, and a whisper of the temple’s chant echoed in his skull:

Take

Claim

Breed

Stefano’s gaze flicked to the mirror behind her, catching his own reflection—hungry, dangerous. The ring was rewriting him, and Rebecca was too close to the fire.

"Shitshitshit... I'm a fucking ticking time bomb and Rebecca might be the very spark setting everything on fire."

She handed the phone back, her lithe fingers lingering again, and said, “Fixed it. Anything else you need?” Her tone was playful, but there was a tremor in it, a crack in her usual confidence.

DOMINATE

The ring didn’t miss it. Neither did he.

"I-I need to get away, but maybe..."

They moved to the living room, Stefano’s hazel eyes drawing to his own daughter’s toned bubble butt, the curve barely hidden by the large shirt riding up the curve of her toned ass.

"Yeah, m-maybe I can keep it together."

How wrong he was...