Gromet's PlazaMummification Stories

End of Days

by Darkraptor1

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© Copyright 2012 - Darkraptor1 - Used by permission

Storycodes: M+/m; punish; wrap; bandages; encase; entomb; buried; desert; hist; majick; curse; cons/nc; X

Author's Note: This is my final fictional bondage story. It is my hope that you all enjoy my swan song, so to speak.


Once, a very, very long time ago, a world was created.

This world was very similar to our own: It was called Earth; all the continents were there, along with all the major cities, and nations, though there were a few minor differences. There were different geological landscapes, including hidden cities, and there were countries that existed there, that do not exist in our reality. But for the most part, history unfolded there much like it did on ours, with all manner of stories that spanned all the eras and epochs.

But just as every tale has an ending, it has a beginning.

The very first story recorded in this world told of a man who lived in ancient Egypt.

His name was Targonamey.

Targonamey was an ambitious adviser to the pharaoh, one who desired many things, as do all beings who's stories are told. But Targonamey was cunning and scheming; he desired more then the rules or practices of his time and society allowed. Wealth and power were not enough. Eventually, through his gift of magic and sorcery, he sought to gain the throne of Egypt himself, where he could set himself up as the immortal ruler of all the worlds.

But it was not to be.

His story, like everyone else's, eventually came to its allotted end. And while his tale was, in part, determined for him, his choices influenced the ending. His scheming, plots, and sorcery eventually led to his downfall, and an ending that was far from what he wanted.


"A thousand curses upon you all!"

For all his power and spells, the adviser of the pharaoh could not stop the embalmers who were mummifying him alive. His yells and protests did nothing to stop the thick bandages that were being wound around his body, even as his embalmers began to wrap his head.

"Be silent, foul worm," the pharaoh said, glaring at the adviser he had once trusted so much. "And keep what minor dignity you have left."

As another layer of bandages was wrapped around his body, Targonamey turned his head towards the pharaoh. "My ruler, my leader, do not do this."

"And why should I not?" the pharaoh snapped. "Through your deception and witchcraft, you buried two of my daughters alive, and have mummified Salalo alive for the rest of her life! And even then, you tried to kill me, and thought I was dead. But justice always prevails Targonamey. Your assassins failed to make sure that I was truly dead. And now, I can think of no greater punishment then having you join my two daughters in their fate."

Futily squirming against his bindings, Targonamey glared at the pharaoh in silent anger. He was not afraid of death, for it held no terrors for him. Rather, his fury was in knowing that he would never be able to fulfill his plans, to achieve his dreams. He would not be remembered as the man who gained control of all the worlds, and shaped them as he saw fit, but as a traitorous advisor who was buried alive like some lowlife thief.

If his hands had not been crossed over his chest and sealed in place, Targonamey would have cast a spell to have the pharaoh's eyes yanked from their sockets. But he could do nothing, only lie on the slab as his body was wrapped up.

"And as further punishment, I will make you suffer even more then you made my daughters suffer."

Looking towards some of his more loyal aides, the pharaoh snapped his fingers. They walked over, and Targonamey saw that they were carrying a large book of black stone, tightly locked.

For the first time in years, or even before he could recall, Targonamey felt fear.

The book was unlocked and opened.

"You will suffer an eternity within your tomb," the pharaoh said. "For a spell of immortality will be placed upon you, and you will forever be trapped inside your sarcophagus, never to be released. And even if you do, the magic will simply grab you and wrap you once again."

The aides, minor magic users at best, nevertheless found the spell, began to look the words over.

Targonamey began to shake, as the awful reality of what was going to happen began to hit him.

The words were spoken, and a pale red mist began to appear. Almost like a living thing, it floated towards Targonamey, flowing over him, caressing his bandaged body like a lover. Then it vanished, going into his wrappings, and into his body itself.

Targonamey felt the magic working with him, felt his organs suddenly pulsing with newfound life, his heart strengthening, lungs becoming so efficient that they could process air even when they were unable to move.

He was immortal. Long had he desired its effects, but not in the manner that he was now - a prisoner, about to be buried alive, doomed to spend all time inside a tiny coffin, with death never coming to release him.

With the spell finished, the aides left.

Targonamey's mummification was almost complete. With his body sealed away under ten layers of wrappings, all that remained was his head, and the embalmers were working quickly to ensure that it was covered as well. In less then a minute, his vision would be gone, and his ability to speak would be forever taken from him.

But he wouldn't go without a fight.

"You, pharaoh, are a fool!" he growled. "A curse I now lay upon you and this world! I will return to claim it as my own, and nothing you can ever do will stop me!"

But the pharaoh was unfazed. "A powerful spell that is, and one I cannot undo. But I can foil your plans," he said. "For I lay a counter-curse upon it. You may indeed rise to conquer this world - but it will be a bittersweet victory, for if you are ever released, it will only be at the end of time, when this world comes to an end.

Targonamey's eyes bulged in anger. He had not expected such a curse, and the ramifications it had were not lost to him.

"Damn you!" he screamed. "I will-"

Wads of bandages were roughly forced into his mouth, and deep into his throat, where he choked and sputtered, trying to speak. But ever more bandages were shoved in, and then his chin was forced shut. From there, the embalmers wrapped around his head and mouth, sealing it shut, and taking away Targonamey's ability to speak.

His eyes were the last to be wrapped. They glared up at the embalmers in defiance as the bandages covered them, and sealed his face away forever.

The embalmers continued their work for another ten minutes, wrapping ever more bandages around Targonamey's bound body. The pharaoh had instructed them to make the wrappings as tight as they could, to further ensure that Targonamey would be kept as immobile as possible.

At last, when they wrapped him up so completely, that there were no longer any human shaped features visible through the bandages.

Now mummified, Targonamey was picked up and carried over to his coffin. It was rough and crude, and more benefiting a commoner, rather then the pharaoh's right hand man. He was placed inside it, and the lid was closed, and nailed in place.

Then the coffin was picked up and lowered into a stone sarcophagus. More spells and charms were spoken as the lid was closed, ensuring that Targonamey would remain trapped inside. But the spells were also meant to work against his curse. For as the pharaoh knew, he couldn't stop all the spells of Targonamey, who was the most powerful wielder of magic in the kingdom.

All he could do was work, and try to delay his release as long as possible so that, if he ever did break free, it would be at the end of time, when all things would come to an end.

* * *

That night, a small procession took the sarcophagus deep into the desert. It was led by the pharaoh himself, along with his guards, and a team of workmen. For many hours they traveled, until the lights of Gaza could no longer be seen, and they were left along among the rolling hills of sand and rock.

At last, they reached their destination. It was a random place, one where nobody would find on a map. Hopefully, it was remote enough that no one would come through and stumble upon the site of Targonamey's final resting place.

The workers quickly grabbed their shovels and started their task. They were skilled, and worked quickly. Once the deep hole had been dug, they took the mammoth stone sarcophagus and pushed it through the sand, until it reached its destination.

With a heavy shove, it fell in, and slid into place.

The pharaoh watched as the sand was poured in, covering the sarcophagus until it was lost to sight. More and more sand was poured on, until the site was completely covered over, and indistinguishable from the rest of the desert surrounding them all.

With their task complete, the workers came up to the pharaoh and his guards. There was a box inside the chariot the pharaoh had driven in, and they all reached inside, took the small vials within, and drank the liquid.

There was no fear, because all knew this had to happen.

Less then a minute later, all the workers lay in the sand, dead from the poison they had drunk.

Silently, the guards took the bodies, loaded them onto the chariots. For the workers would be taken back to the royal palace and given a proper burial, so that they would reach the halls of the afterlife in safety. Their deaths were a necessary sacrifice, so that no one would be able to speak of where Targonamey had been buried. Yet, when they got back to the capital, the guards themselves would drink poison as well.

In the end, only the pharaoh would know where Targonamey's grave was, where he would lay for untold centuries, alive and unable to escape, kept company only by his hate and his drive for conquest, which would never leave him.

But for now, at least, his threat to the world was gone. And pharaoh hoped that it would remain that way.

Targonamey was no longer a threat. And his daughters had been avenged.

With a snap of the reins, he sent the royal camels back into the desert heading back the way they had come. The guards followed, along with the bodies of the workers.

The desert was still and silent once more, with no movement under the midnight moon.


Deep within his grave, inside his coffin, and within his bandages, Targonamey lay where he was.

He waited.


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