The Mark of Anubis
Max hated the night shift. Being a security guard at a museum, while not hard work, was to him often uneventful. Hour after hour he would wander the halls of exhibits, flashlight in hand, his hips swaying back and forth as he listened to club beats on his phone. He would much rather find himself at a club, any club so long as there was dancing and men to dance with. Often he would dance past the ancient bones of long dead animals, murals depicting epic battles and statues of heroes and gods alike. It was never an issue as the museum could not afford full camera coverage of the displays, only two recorded feeds near the entrance and exit, hence their need for an all night guard.
While most of the museum's many displays lost their glamor for him a long time ago, he still loved the Egyptian corridor. It was a spacious hallway, lined with pottery and weapons, a replica coffin, and a papyrus tapestry depicting hieroglyphs found inside one of the great pyramids. The piece de resistance of the display came in the form of two genuine statues of the god of death Anubis, placed on either side of the replica sarcophagus.
They were tall and imposing, nearly towering over the rest of the exhibit by a few feet. Max would sometimes find himself standing in front of one statue or the other, looking up at its towering magnificence. Max was not short per say, his slender yet toned frame resting at 5 feet 8 inches in sneakers. The statues stood well above this height, to the point where standing directly in front of one required him to look up. If he looked in front all he would find is the elegantly carved loin cloth obfuscating what Max liked to imagine was an equally proportionate member.
This night was an especially gruesome affair as Max found himself particularly bored out of his mind. He was not in the mood for dancing and instead found himself shuffling down the halls at a snail's pace. Trying to imagine himself at a club was to no avail. All he could see in his mind's eyes were the silhouettes of men. A muscular thigh. A slender waist. The beats in his head were replaced by the sounds of hushed breaths and distant moans. He shook his head and looked down. An impressive tent protruded in his khakis as he found his member struggling to make itself known. He looked around nervously, even though he was far from the front of the museum, alone close to midnight. It was just him and the shadows of the exhibits. He found himself at the entrance to the Egyptian exhibit. Letting out a sigh of boredom, he proceeded down the hall, unsure what just happened. He made it only a few steps before the visions came again. Bodies moving and gyrating all around him and pleading sighs of ecstasy. When he finally managed to regain his focus, he found himself standing at the foot of one of the Anubis statues. His cock now seared with pain as it pressed firm and hard against his pants. He could feel a deep pressure in his loins. Looking up at the statue, then down at himself, he knew then he needed some form of release.
