The Diary of Lyra Nox

18+ This story contains explicit descriptions of sex, body transformations, breast expansion, dominating behaviour, and crude language. All characters are over the age of 18.

The Diary of Lyra Knox

Written by Ash

Lyra, the most accomplished student of archaeology at the prestigious Cambridge university, heads out into the field to seek the secrets of her family's curious heritage.

Jake tags along, hoping to score with the infamous 'Ice Queen' of Trinity College. At the very least, he'll settle for some good views of her A-class bod.

What they discover changes both their lives forever, and Lyra learns that her family's abstinent tendencies are hiding a most salacious secret.

21

st

June, 2007

At long last, the stone portal has opened! Just as I predicted, the clockwork mechanism was triggered by sunlight at the summer solstice. Only a slight push was needed for the cliff wall to swing open! What a miraculous device for such an ancient culture to have created! This discovery alone would be enough for my entire dissertation, and yet so much remains to be found inside. At last, after a decade of research, I can uncover my family's connection to this ancient place.

The expedition is off too a great start, my only regret is that my friend Jennifer was unable to be here for this miraculous moment. Jake has been a poor substitute and of little help thus far, just moping around and trying to impress me as usual. Men. Pah! He was not my first choice, but at least he is useful for carrying the tents and setting up the camp. Since then I've had little to occupy him, but that changes today. The boulder trap in the first chamber was but a taste of what's to come.

Today, we will attempt to cross the chasm. Good thing I came prepared.

Jake

Jake leered appreciatively as Lyra clambered across the extendable metal ladder they had placed across the chasm. Her shapely ass stretched out her tight cargo-shorts and provided ample eye-candy to keep him entertained as she traversed the gap one rung at a time. He drank in the sight of those creamy thighs and slender legs, the exposed skin so rare a sight back in Cambridge.

Hot, smart, athletic, sole heir of a wealthy family, needless to say Lyra was highly popular with the male students. Her refined, aristocratic beauty and (at least) D-cup tits made her the obvious target of many a would-be suitor at their privileged school, but the ice-queen famously never reciprocated their attentions. Usually, Lyra was to be found wearing a (very expensive) blazer and (likely equally expensive) trousers that left as much as possible to the imagination. For someone so well-proportioned it was a criminally missed opportunity that she never wore anything that showed off her figure, in Jake's opinion.

Until now, that is. Despite Lyra's affinity for stuffy clothing, just as Jake had hoped, the tropical heat and humidity had rendered such attire totally impractical. In her usual pragmatic manner, Lyra outfitted herself as befitted a noble explorer: Tank-tops, cargo-pants, khaki shirts - all the usual exploration gear one would expect from a scion of the wealthy British elite finally heading out into the field. While his gaze followed the archaeology student's shapely figure swinging across the chasm, Jake congratulated himself once again for inveigling his way onto this crazy trip to bear witness to sights most of his peers could only dream of. It even made up for the Indiana Jones' shit that was getting a bit too much for his taste.

Indeed, the boulder trap had been a nasty surprise. Jake hadn't believed that people

really

installed that stuff in their forbidden tombs. How was it even functional after all this time? What was next? Spike traps? Snakes? Nazis? Jake shook his head. He wouldn't be letting his guard down again, that was for sure. Let it not be said that Jake Sullivan would allow any harm to come to a woman under his protection.

His wandering eyes settled once more on Lyra's swaying caboose.

Lyra

Lyra could tell he was watching her. Typical. Just like in high school, back when her body first began to develop and became subject to boyish attention. The stares, shy or obvious, had always infuriated her. Didn't men think about anything else? Lyra would have given up her womanly figure in an instant if it meant less bother from such boring people. Instead, she had resorted to carefully selecting her attire to conceal her body's proportions and dull their interest. She cursed again for the hundredth time that she hadn't brought her sports bras and heavy jackets with her from England, climate be damned. Well, not much that could be done about it now. Concentrate on the mission.

This trip was too important to let herself get distracted by Jake. Almost a decade's work culminated in this moment. Ever since she was old enough to read, Lyra had devoured the contents of the extensive library in Knox manor. At first, it was simple childish fascination with accounts of far off lands and fantastic stories. Then, piqued curiosity about the family history and her own lineage. It was at age fifteen that Lyra stumbled precipitously upon the manuscripts that contained mention of her Varangian heritage.

Lyra shivered as she recalled the thrill at discovering that her stuffy, boring English family may in fact be of more exotic origin. History became her passion overnight. Countless weekends were spent buried in dusty old books in the library learning about Viking mercenaries seeking their fortunes in the ancient Byzantine capital, taking riches and trophy wives back to their homelands. Was this how her bloodline had migrated to England? These were the kinds of questions Lyra Knox pondered while her school friends got up to the things teens do with boys like Jake and then brag about at Monday lunchtime. Lyra considered it no great loss that she had never felt the slightest inclination to participant.

Everything traced back to this remote area of the Peloponnese mountains, a day's journey by scooter from the nearest town. By virtue of the Knox family's long history with Trinity college, they happily agreed to sponsor an expedition as part of her thesis. Her notes already overflowed with her findings from the ruins outside - ritual stones, marble statues, ornate carvings. Lyra was sure now that, whatever lay within this underground complex long hidden beneath the mountain, it would satisfy both her own curiosity about her family and secure her academic success. She was already imagining the title of the paper she would write - 'Religious rites of the Hellenic people and their societal rituals'.

For this was clearly a site of great significance to some ancient people, the earliest carvings long predating the Byzantine empire. From the scattered stonework outside to the elaborate mechanisms of this sunken warren, it was apparent that this complex had been a magnificent and affluent temple in its heyday.

An unfortunate fire in the west wing over a hundred years ago had destroyed many of the family records, barely enough clues had remained to pinpoint this area where her Viking ancestor had found his fortune. Looting this temple may well have been the origin of their wealth. Had they also found a woman here to take home as their wife? And, was her family really... cursed?

Lyra's scientific mind rebelled at the idea of a 'curse', but it strained the limits of probability to be a mere coincidence. Over a dozen generations since her family had returned to England, with each generation producing only a single daughter as heir to carry on the their line. What were the chances of that? Miniscule. With no sons to bear it, her family title had passed maternally since their unexplained exodus from Greece so many years ago. Perhaps that was why they had survived the Norman purge of the Anglo-Saxon aristocracy: such a family would have few alliances and be of little threat to a fledgling king. The sparse documents that survived the fire made reference to this genealogical phenomenon as though it were to be expected, yet none explained why.

All these mysteries Lyra hoped to solve on this trip. This precarious chasm may even be the final obstacle. With one last push, she leaped the final few rungs of the ladder and landed on the solid ground on the other side. Lyra stood and dusted herself off, pinching her sweaty shorts and top to unstick them from her skin, before glancing back at Jake to find him grinning at her in familiar way men always did. He waved cheerily.

Studiously ignoring him, Lyra turned and examined the pedestal they had sighted from the other side of the chasm. It stood about 10ft tall, the pinnacle just out of reach for her. Upon it stood the mysterious ebony-black totem she had been unable to properly identify through her binoculars. Illuminated by the light of her torch, she could tell it was embossed with intricate glyphs. Lyra desperately wanted to take it down for closer examination. Straining on her tip-toes, she stretched as high as she could go, but it was just beyond the reach of her 5" 6' stature. She cursed under her breath, knowing what this meant.

The metallic clatter of the ladder behind her heralded the arrival of Jake. He dusted himself off, and smirked at her. 'Need a hand?'

'Can you get it down?' Lyra wasted no time on pleasantries.

Jake reached up effortlessly and lifted it down, ignoring her outstretched hand and instead holding it up to his eyes to examine it himself. Lyra huffed internally, but settled for examining the totem from afar until his childish curiosity was sated, rather than seek a confrontation.

'Is this some kind of... medieval dildo?' Jake's incredulous question broke her disgruntled train of thought before she could get a proper look.

'What? No, of course it's not.' Lyra snatched the artefact from from him. 'Medieval would be late 6

th

to early 16

th

century, this temple is at least as old as the early Roman Republic...' her rebuke died on her lips as she took in what she was holding. Warmth rose in her cheeks. Beneath Lyra's hand, the bumpy surface of the rod seemed almost like...

An angry rumbling sound brought them both back to their senses.

'Oh shit, not again.' Jake reacted first, grabbing her arm and pulling Lyra back from the edge of the spike-pit that suddenly opened up around the plinth that they had just lightened of its load.

22

nd

June, 2007

The glyphs on the totem are new to me. The script is similar to the language at the entrance to the cave system, but more angular, as though designed to be carved rather than written. Perhaps an older dialect? (Runes?) There are some that share similar shapes I recognise from the murals: 'Key', 'Vessel', 'Gateway'. Without the context it's difficult to say what the others might mean, though a translation should be possible with time.

As for the totem itself, it measures approximately 30cm lengthwise by 5cm across, roughly cylindrical, the form is... 'priapic' in design...

Lyra sighed, putting down her pen and glancing over at the totem that stood erect on her make-shift desk. Despite her protests to the contrary before the spike trap dramatically changed the topic, it really was very clearly intended to be phallic. Not that she would ever admit it to Jake. Though she had little interest in participating in the vulgar acts of procreation until it was strictly necessary to carry on her maternal line, Lyra had studied enough theory of human anatomy to recognise a penis when she saw one.

She picked it up again, turning it over and running her finger along the embossed glyphs that criss-crossed the otherwise silky-smooth surface like bulging veins. She shuddered. It felt strangely warm in her hands, giving her the unsettling impression that it was living flesh beneath her grip rather than polished ebony. The longer her skin stayed in contact with it, the stronger she felt a slight tingling on the tips of her fingers. Static electricity?

Lyra frowned, struggling to find an explanation for the curious physical properties of this ancient artefact. Setting it aside, she picked up her pen to record her observations in her journal. While she worked, alternately handling the mysterious totem and jotting down notes, the muggy evening air slowly descended on their camp. As the sun settled, the crickets began their nightly chorus. Jake's footsteps trudged about outside as he put the camp in order. Lyra began to shift uncomfortably in her seat. It was only after adjusting the biting strap of her bra and unsticking her tank-top from her clammy skin for the third time that she began to notice that the humid atmosphere was not her only discomfort.

So subtle that she had not sensed it while intent on studying the mysterious totem, a slight warmth had been building in her abdomen. It felt somehow disconnected from her senses, like touching a hot oven tray through thick gloves. When she concentrated on the sensation in her belly, it began to grow stronger. Like dipping a foot into a hot bath, the warmth spread across her skin but rather than from the hot humid air, it originated from deep inside her, near her groin.

Confused, Lyra laid a hand on her stomach. A shiver ran through her body. Her fingers felt like ice on feverish skin. As though in response to her touch, the hot glow began to flow out from her belly, upwards towards through her torso and into her chest, and she looked down to find to her surprise that her nipples were visibly tenting her top, even through her bra that was clearly outlined beneath the moist fabric.

Lyra had never felt anything like this. Her head was heavy, her breaths coming fast, her cheeks beginning to flush. Her first thought was that she had contracted some exotic tropical disease that caused her body to flare up a fever to drive it off. It was only when she felt the sensation of moisture on her thighs that she noticed the damp patch spreading across her shorts.

'What in the world?' Lyra murmured in consternation, pushing away from the desk and leaning forward so she should see past her chest.

She stood, staggering away from her desk as she frantically unzipped her shorts and pulled down her underwear to check for signs of infection. Her fingers came back moist with some clear, sticky discharge from her vagina. Lyra shivered as the warmth that had been spreading across in her body began to fade, leaving her feeling cold and strangely bereft, but she couldn't tell why. Lyra stared at stringy fluid lacing her fingers in confusion, before it dawned on her.

Was this... arousal? The 'less-academic' girls that hovered around Lyra's friend group were always talking to each other about their exploits with boys and how hot it made them feel, but these were entirely foreign concepts to Lyra. Even back in middle school, teachers had warned Lyra's class that as they progressed through puberty they would begin to feel new and exciting things as their bodies matured, yet for Lyra the steady, unrelenting growth of her secondary sexual characteristics was simply an annoying (and frequent) cause to buy new clothing. The subsequent increase in attention from boys had been an unwelcome distraction from her studies rather than something to be be excited about, hence why she took to smothering herself with heavy blazers and tight bras to deter their interest.

It had been a point of disbelief among her close friends in high school that their (supposedly) 'sexy' friend had no inclination to flaunt herself or explore her sexuality. Jennifer, her closest friend since childhood, had persuaded Lyra to try one of her 'little helpers', yet after following her instructions and probing her vagina with the slippery little dildo for a good five minutes, Lyra had felt nothing but an uncomfortable numbness, not the mysterious pleasure Jen had assured her she would feel.

Concerned that she was somehow different from other girls, the teenage Lyra had rather awkwardly broached the subject with her mother. She sat Lyra down for the 'talk'. Her mother told of how it was much the same for her all her life, but for one short period. Mum had been in her late-twenties when she had suddenly felt the irresistible urge to find a partner. After marrying Lyra's father, she had conceived her almost immediately. But, as soon as Lyra was born, she went back to feeling nothing, and could now barely recall it being otherwise.

Was this what her mother had felt? What everyone else felt? This, this warmth, it had evoked a temptation to touch more, to feel something... inside her. As the sensation subsided and the usual numbness in her sex returned, if not for the evidence on her hands and shorts, Lyra might have been left wondering if she had imagined the whole thing, just like Mother said. Hesitantly, Lyra lowered her hand to her long-dormant sex, almost scared to touch in the face of an unknown, but her insatiable curiosity couldn't let her leave this mystery explored.

She felt nothing. Lyra carefully ran her fingers around her folds, pinched the clitoris, all the sensitive places her girlfriends said should feel delight at the slightest touch. Nothing.

Lyra's eyes flitted back to the totem on the table. It was many times larger than Jen's little sex-toy. She reached for it, and as her fingers closed around the veiny surface, the hot temptation in her groin began to glow once more.

Jake

It was fully dark as Jake trudged back from the latrine pit he had so painstakingly dug at the edge of their camp. Hiking up his shorts and buckling his belt, he picked his way along the path by the dim light of the twin glows emanating from their tents and the dying embers of their fire. The sun was well and truly set, the crickets having long since finished their evening concert. Yawning, he glanced over as he passed Lyra's tent, expecting to see the usual silhouette hunched over her desk, toiling away by lamplight late into the night. Instead, his eyes almost popped out of their sockets.

Lyra was not at her desk, but the lamp on her desk was still on, casting a perfect silhouette of Lyra onto the tent's translucent fabric. Her curvaceous figure was on full monochromatic display, like one of those old Bond intros that teased the audience with the dark silhouettes of women dancing sensuously.

Except, Lyra was not dancing. One shadow hand was pressed to her ample chest, while the other snaked between her legs. She writhed, stumbling around the tent, before collapsing onto her bed, just on the other side of the tent from where Jake stood, only meters away. As he stood there, stunned, he strained his ears to hear the desperate gasps and suppressed moans coming from inside Lyra's tent as hers legs began to kick the air as she bucked upon her bunk.

Jake couldn't believe what he was seeing. Was this really the prudish Lyra!? The ice queen of Trinity College? 'She-Who-Scorns-Pleasure'?

It was almost a relief to find that, under her icy exterior, Lyra was only human, with urges that needed sating. Turns out that even she couldn't last this long in the wilderness without letting off a bit of steam. Jake's pants twitched. He quietly turned off his torch and found a comfortable spot where he could enjoy the show. Speaking of letting off steam...

Lyra

Why had she done it!? Lyra moaned as she thrust the totem inside her once more. The smooth bumps of the ancient glyphs brushing past her rapidly moistening lips sent pleasurable jolts of joy arcing through her nerves and into her unprepared brain. She hunched over, the muscles in her belly clenching as it went deeper, deeper, moulding and spreading her pussy, satisfying a desire that she never knew she had.