Mise part 2
They left the deserted temple by a small back door. Out into the warm night air, they walked down a gravel path through the press of ferns and flowered bushes. At a bend in the path, under the overhang of water-beaded rocks, several Companions moved ahead and took torches from a stand, lit them into flame and led the way. Down they went, the path gave over to bare rock, worn into steps by the passage of many feet. Plant life clung to cracks in the rocks and the air grew cool with contained moisture.
Time meant little in the shifting light of flame and shadow. The downward spiral halted and Daniel found himself stepping onto a narrow stone bridge, the crash of the Bodashtart river underneath. Astarte led him on, the press of other bodies close about them. Over the bridge, down narrow stone steps, paralleling the swollen torrent of the river, her hand in his, guide and comfort. His other hand brushed the wide balustrade, cool stone blocks covered in damp moss that caught in his fingernails. At their feet, painted figures and faces rose and receded with every step, colours picked out in blood red; haunted, lost faces stared up at him.
On she drew him into the dark, anonymous people pressed close, the roar of the river blended with a reverent murmuring chant from the Goa'uld around him.
Now they halted at the foot of a giant gate, its black curling metal standing open, giving access to the earth itself. Strong hands on his shoulders encouraged him on. Unnecessary - he would follow her until the fire in his blood burned him to cinders.
Again they descended, into a place of warmth, laden with aromas like the germination of life; it was the womb of the world.
Through a pair of towering golden gates, they arrived in a large cavern. Ornate crystal chandeliers hung alive with candlelight. Enormous stumps of ancient trees carved into seats and benches lurked in the shadows surrounding a dark, still pool of water. Ferns and moss grew over its rocky sides and spread up over a smooth boulder, which stood at the centre of the cavern.
The Companions spread out, setting torches into wall sconces, closing and chaining the golden gates, all the while chanting steadily. Tasks completed, they began to disrobe, then came to Ba'al and Astarte, and helped them out of their clothing. Daniel’s breath hitched. Unable to pull his eyes away from Astarte’s luscious body, his heart began to pound when hands touched him, slipping his pants down and taking his glasses. All he could do was stand before her, his desire obvious and humiliating, for unlike the Nishta of Ba'al, which left his head a confused muddle, the breath of Astarte took ownership of his body and left his mind in perfect order.
She smiled, a slow, predatory gloat, and kissed him hard on the mouth. Then hands took his arms, turned him away from her, and guided him up the smooth steps to the top of the boulder. Bright steel chains glinted on the dark rock. He tried to pull away, to refuse, but they pressed him to his knees and he knew he was lost. Manacles were fastened over his ankles, others just below his knees, pinning him to the rock. Hands pushed him down to sit on his heels, then pressed him further until his chest rested on his thighs, and his chin on a groove in the rock. His arms were extended out from his body and locked down, and then a final band of cold metal slipped over his neck and held his head as immobile as his body.
His custodians left him alone on the rock, able only to breathe shallowly and stare down at the people gathering in a circle around the pool. Nude bodies gleamed in the candlelight, eyes closed they knelt and settled, Ba'al and Astarte at the head of the pond. The chanting cut off. For long nervous moments he watched as each of them bowed, their foreheads touched the damp rock. Suddenly Ba'al retched, a near silent shudder wracked his body, then again and then something appeared in his mouth. It-wriggled. He heaved again and Daniel let out a choked moan of horror as the parasite - the snake inside the host - slid out onto the stone. It squealed and reared up, lashing its tail, beady red eyes stared first at Astarte, then up at Daniel.
Beside him Astarte began to retch and produced the real Astarte in a slick pool of mucus. With the two of them out, the Companions began to gag up their Goa'uld. In no time fourteen Goa'uld squirmed and hissed in the open air, their host bodies remained still, unresponsive, probably drugged.
This is one story the guys back home will never believe.
Daniel tried to avert his eyes, but bound as he was he couldn’t look away, and self-preservation kept his gaze glued to the reptiles. I thought she was going to mate with me, but this is way beyond what Hathor did.
His thoughts froze as Ba'al and Astarte reared up, neck frills flaring and turned to face him. With astonishing speed, small wings unfurled from their torsos and the two shot into the air, up and over his head. They landed on Daniel’s bare back, making him cry out and jerk futilely at his restraints. The Goa'uld hissed and spat, and writhed their cold scaly bodies over his skin.
“Get off, get off, for the love of all that is holy, get off me,” he snarled, scared witless, sure now that he was going to lose his body to one of them. Both? Was that possible?
The writhing was settling down into a sinuous rubbing, one was coiling around the small of his back, the other up over his shoulder blades, sibilant noises tickling his left ear. Its tail seemed to be caressing his skin, comforting him?
A hopeless snicker escaped him. “I might not be able to stop you, but I promise you this, I will make your life a never ending hell. I will fight you every second of every day and I will never rest. You will regret ever taking me, and my friends will hunt you down and kill you - even if they kill me too, and I’ll thank them for it” He heaved in a gasp of air, prepared for what was about to happen. “Do your worst. I know the host survives.” His hands clenched, nails cutting into his palms, fine tremors running through him.
The snake on his shoulder squirmed gently. It’ll be that one. He stared at the Goa'uld below him, sitting up, weaving their heads in the air as they stared back at him. Why is the other one there?
Waited….
Something sharp pierced his skin, not at his nape as expected but into his back, below his waist. Agony speared through his spine, up to his head and out along his nerves.
Daniel screamed.
Another pain stabbed at him, in the same place. He sobbed and swore, bitting his tongue as he ground his teeth against the fire building in his back. Is it in? Shit, I can’t feel it. Desperate to retain his self awareness for as long as he had left, he tried to think of his friends, knowing the next time he saw them they might be trying to kill him. He pictured Jack, looning around on the Nandi homeworld, Sam and Teal'c surrounded by pint-sized wonderful people.
His pained breaths puffed out of his mouth. Dimly, he realised the agony was fading. Oh god, is that it - taking control? He tried to focus, felt the one on his neck… and the other on his hip. What? It’s still outside me…. Yes, there it was, uncoiling, sliding up his back, its tail tickling his ribs. He felt it reach the one on his neck, tangling together and squeaking like a dog’s chew toy. The two Goa'uld slid to his shoulder, then slithered off and plopped onto the rock next to his face.
He tensed again, and hurt his eyes trying to focus on them. They stopped for a moment, staring back at him. One had a bulbous appendage on its torso, a shiny sac that looked like it contained fluid. They took flight, making him start yet again. They landed near the pool, already twining together.
Morbidly fascinated, he watched the bulbous sac be absorbed into the Goa'uld’s body. When it was gone the other Goa'uld extended its own appendage, obviously phallic with a wicked pronged head. It entered the first Goa'uld - had to be Astarte - through the sac’s opening. Joined, the two tied themselves together in knots and began to roll and thrash over the rock and into the water, churning it to foam in their frenzy.
This appeared to be a signal for the Companions to begin their own orgy. Daniel froze, expecting another attack, but the twelve snakes went at each other, hissing, biting, flaring frills, until they were one hopelessly tangled ball. Relieved, confused, revolted and nauseous from the pain in his back, Daniel watched helplessly as the snake ball rolled around the pool edge - a bizarre guard over the two mating with unabated fervour in the water.
?
The night dragged on, one agonising second at a time. His legs were long since numb, so were his arms. The puncture on his back throbbed in unending misery. He still felt sick, but as he hadn’t eaten in over thirty hours, fortunately there was nothing to come up. And there was an annoying itch on his left shoulder blade that just wouldn’t go away.
On the bright side, his wholly unnatural arousal had vanished, probably the instant Astarte had sunk her fangs or whatever into his spine.
Daniel checked to see what was happening below. Yep, still at it. He sighed and shut his eyes. Unfortunately, his brain wouldn’t shut off. He’d initially thought Astarte had wanted his DNA to create a new batch of symbiotes, but swiftly rejected the idea. Hathor had picked him because he was there at the time. Astarte had a whole planetful of men lining up to deliver their offering in her temple.
This whole night screamed ‘ritual’ to him. Only Ba'al and Astarte were mating - the others looked like they were playing… or wrestling. If Ba'al and Astarte mated in such elaborate circumstances, he’d bet it was for something of more significance than Jaffa. Teal'c had once told him the symbiotes bred for Jaffa were infertile, which made a lot of sense. Why create an army who could in turn breed and build their own armies.
They really are like queen bees…. Hathor flashed into his mind, cold eyes fixed on his, her mouth swallowing him, the vicious jaws of the true Hathor emerging from that mouth, stealing his seed and self respect in one swallow…. Forget her. Focus. Queens produce infertile drones for Jaffa. They take years to mature and either become a minor Goa'uld, serving a System Lord, or are killed and eaten. And the queens mate with one of the host species. Not her own kind.
Ba'al and Astarte were still writhing in the water, slower now but not showing signs of stopping.
She’s mating with him and she’s got my DNA as well. She had to have taken his cerebrospinal fluid in that sick parody of a lumbar puncture. So, mating with Ba'al and carrying human DNA produces what? A fertile Goa'uld?
Oh, boy.
I think you’re in really deep shit now, Danny boy.
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