Osiris Champion

Setting: Torino, Italy, 2025. Stefano, a middle-aged archaeologist turned museum tour guide, is battered by a broken marriage to Jessica, a cheating realtor, and a ruined career. His only solace is his daughter, Rebecca, a fiery redhead and athletic prodigy with emerald eyes and a body honed by years of training. On Day 1, Stefano discovers the Osiris ring in a thrift shop, an artifact that begins to awaken a primal, hypnotic power within him, setting the broken father on a path of transformation and forbidden desires.

The Spark of Osiris

The thrift shop smelled of mildew and forgotten lives, shelves groaning under the weight of chipped porcelain, moth-eaten shawls, and tarnished trinkets. Miss Norberta, perched behind the counter like a vulture guarding carrion, squinted at Stefano through glasses thick enough to start a fire. Her cane rested ominously within reach, a silent threat to anyone foolish enough to haggle too aggressively. Stefano, his shoulders slumped from another soul-crushing day at the Egyptian Museum, sifted through a tray of jewelry with the half-hearted curiosity of a man who’d long stopped believing in miracles. His fingers brushed against the bronze relic—heavy, warm, and oddly alive. The Osiris Incubus Ring, though he didn’t know it yet. Its surface gleamed with an unnatural sheen, etched with hieroglyphs that seemed to pulse under his touch.

“I must be crazy…”

The middle-aged man slipped it on, a wry chuckle escaping his lips. “What am I doing? This can’t be real,” he muttered, glancing at Miss Norberta, who was too busy tallying her ledger to notice. But the moment the ring settled on his finger, the world shifted. The shop dissolved into darkness, replaced by a cavernous temple lit by flickering braziers. Anubis-masked priests chanted in a tongue that clawed at his mind, their voices a cacophony of divine wrath and demonic seduction. Stefano’s knees buckled, his heart pounding as whispers—millions of them—swarmed his skull.

Breeding

Power

Corruption

The words weren’t just sounds; they were chains, binding his will, reshaping it. Runed glowing hieroglyphs seared into his tongue, his veins, his soul, each one a promise of something greater. Something primal.

"W-what the hell!?"

Stefano staggered, gripping a shelf as reality snapped back. Miss Norberta hadn’t noticed a thing. The ring felt heavier now, its warmth spreading through his hand, up his arm, pooling in his gut. He observed the relic more carefully, rusted green bronze, etched with serpentine hieroglyphs, pulsing faintly with violet light. Looking into the old duty mirror who had bee on sale for as long as he could remember, Stefano lifted his shirt finding a faint violet glow flickered across his protruding lower belly—a tattoo, swirling and alive.

"This may be worse than... D-damn... Yup, much worse than the Mayan Xibalba devil orb we dug up in Honduras..."

A searing heat floods his veins with each of the purple tattoo’s pulsations. His reflection flickers—just for a second—Stefano’s hazel eyes glowing like embers, his breath hitched.

He wasn’t just a washed-up archeologist anymore.

Dominate

Conquer

Osiris Champion

He was chosen. For what, he didn’t yet know, but the fire in his loins and the newfound steel in his spine told him it was something monumental.

That night, Stefano returned home to the empty apartment he shared with Rebecca. Jessica, his cheating wife, was predictably absent—off “closing deals” with her latest client, no doubt. The thought used to gut him, but now it only fueled a quiet, simmering rage. He tossed his keys onto the counter as usual they fell on the floor instead, the ancient rusted bronze relic glinting under the kitchen light. Rebecca was sprawled on the couch, her athletic frame draped in a loose tank top and shorts that did little to hide her curves. Her red hair spilled over the cushions like molten fire, her emerald eyes flicking up to meet his. “Rough day, Daddy?” she asked, her voice teasing but laced with genuine concern.

“Yeah,” Stefano grunted, loosening his tie. “Same old shit. Tourists asking where the ‘Pharaoh’s cock’ is kept.” He tried to laugh, but it came out hollow. Rebecca’s lips curved into a playful smirk, and she shifted, her hips rolling slightly as she stretched. The motion was innocent enough—or it should’ve been—but the ring’s influence sharpened Stefano’s senses. He noticed the way her shorts clung to her thighs, the faint sheen of sweat on her collarbone. His mouth went dry.

Rebecca hopped off the couch, padding over to him. “You need to relax, daddy. You’re too tense.” Her lithe hands found his shoulders, kneading gently, but there was an edge to her touch—something hungrier. The ancient artifact pulsed, and Stefano felt a surge of confidence, a whisper urging him to take control. He caught her wrist, the middle-aged archeologist's grip firm but not harsh, and his daughter's breath hitched. “Careful, Becca,” he said, his deep baritone lower, rougher. “You don’t know what you’re starting.”

Her green eyes sparkled with mischief, but there was something else—desire, raw and unspoken. “Maybe I do,” she whispered, stepping closer, her body brushing against his. The air crackled with tension, the corrupt relic’s power amplifying every glance, every touch.

Suddenly Rebecca hops away, the sight of his daughter’s fat ass jiggling away lit a fire in the sinful father's loins, her tight athletic shorts straining as she bends to pick up her clumsy dad’s keys.

"You are such a klutz, dad"

Stefano’s pulse raced, the strain against his pants was almost painful. This was wrong. So fucking wrong. But the ring didn’t care about morality, and neither, it seemed, did the growing heat in his daughter’s gaze.