82 - The Great Quake

Latoya held up her own candle. "Horus Thothson's story doesn't end there. Although she goes by Hathor now. I guess you could say she was trying to find herself. Started wearing skirts, bras. She accepted an invitation to an archaeological dig in China...and was trapped underground by seismic disturbance. What happened after that is what I call

THE GREAT QUAKE

Hathor coughed in the dark. The shaking earth had collapsed the tunnel. The ancient chamber that had been uncovered remained intact, as it had for centuries, despite local earthquakes. She shook, trying to keep her breathing shallow. Her co-workers had been in the tunnel, she had been in the furthest reach, cataloguing the stranger statues at the back. There was no noise except her own breathing.

It was just her now.

Her and the statues.

The terracotta figures had been discovered standing in neat rows. Each unique, the features molded, she believed, from a living model. Not soldiers, this time. Women, for the most part. Nude. A harem of concubines for an emperor that wanted a wide selection of pussy in the afterlife.

Carefully, Hathor rose to her knees. There was no light. Somewhere on the floor should be her flashlight. Once she had light, she could see how bad it was, if she could dig her way out. There was no way to tell how much air she had down here. Probably not enough to survive to wait for them to find her.

Her hands swept out in low, level arcs, just above, the dirt-covered floor. Hathor froze when she touched the clay ankle of a statue. Each was well-balanced, unlikely to be knocked over at a touch, yet she didn't want to be the one to destroy a member of the emperor's harem.

A stupid smile came to Hathor in the dark. Most of these statues were of women. Not all of them. The ones in the back of the room she had been investigating had all featured some curious anatomical irregularities. Intersex individuals of different configurations and conditions. Hathor had been fascinated by the careful skill taken in depicting the genitalia. Definitely modeled from life. It reminded her of her own unusual anatomy.

"A thousand years ago," she joked. "Maybe the emperor would have kept me in his harem."

No one answered her weak little joke, of course. None of her coworkers were clear on her situation, either. It had been easier that way, even if she had to fend off the overtures of a few male colleagues. Hathor remembered when it wasn't that long ago that she was looking at women the way the men looked at her. Transition had been an eye-opening experience, yet ultimately...

Another pottery ankle touched her hand. Hathor shifted away from it. She was disoriented in the dark, trying to mentally picture where she was. The statues would be in neat, even rows, unless the earthquake had moved them. She moved on her knees, moving in a small circle, hands out.

Ankles. Ankles. More ankles. At each touch, Hathor shifted away. Except there were too many of them, too close, all around her. That shouldn't be possible.

With a silent curse, Hathor rose to her feet. She stood for a moment, then reached out. Felt a hard, cold nipple. Followed it up to a smooth, rounded shoulder. Moved it over a few inches to find another. Traced across a pair of collar bones. Turning around slowly.

She was surrounded.

"Shit," Hathor said.

With a sigh, she knelt down again. Wrapped her arms around the thighs of the nearest statue, trying to ignore the clay dong that pressed into her cheek. With a grunt, she pushed up with her legs, lifting it just an inch or two in the air. Crab-walked forward, trying to feel if there were any statues behind it. Three tiny steps then she set it down. Took a half-step back.

Her head hit something hard.

Which should have been impossible. She had just moved forward, there had to be a space behind her. Hathor shifted her head.

Her cheek hit pottery cock. Except none of those should be erect. All of the hermaphrodites had all been modeled flaccid. Hathor moved her head, tried to clear it, suddenly dizzy. Her own cock suddenly grew hard, her pussy wet. There was a smell...not the smell of dust or earth, but like old jizz rags and underboob sweat. She tried to move, but the statues crowded in around her now. Everywhere her face went her lips brushed against a stony prick or hard, smooth vulva. Hathor shivered, dizzy, and seemed to hear a distant tread in the dark.

Of course. The Emperor was coming to see the latest member of his harem.

Hathor tried to scream. Something cold and hard but definitely not pottery rammed itself into her mouth, pushed down her throat, filling her completely.

"The rescue crew dug her out within thirty minutes," Latoya said. "Fortunately, Hathor was near the back of the room. She had passed out in a jumble of statues, probably due to low oxygen levels, but was otherwise mostly unharmed."

"Mostly?" Roberta asked.

"Hathor's internal anatomy is a little complicated. They found her bleeding. It turned out to be her period. Her first period. The doctors were surprised; most intersex individuals aren't fertile. Who knows what might have happened, if the rescuers had taken a little longer?"

Latoya's smile was nasty as she blew out the candle.