SET wanted nothing more than to feel life in the body of his wife. A smoky tendril stretched out from his gaseous form and skimmed the empty shell she’d left him. But what a beautiful shell. Her dusty pink nipples topped globes of taunt flesh. A flat abdomen led to trim hips and a smooth mons. If only her legs would willingly open, cradle him, welcome him into her dark recess and their sensual embrace. Angry, he vibrated and jagged strike of red lightning flared in the center of his mass. Per their agreement, for three millennia he abstained from enjoying carnal delights with his wife. At council meetings, her sparkling presence reminded him of what he didn’t have— never had. Nephythys, the woman his minuscule soul attached to. In all their time together never had she graced him with a smile, a willing touch, a moan of pleasure. Those precious acknowledgements she reserved for anyone, but him. He hoped all this time apart had softened her, made her long for his attention, any attention. Perhaps now she would allow him a foothold into her heart. After so long, her bitterness must have healed. How wrong he was. His optimism withered when he entered her bedroom and beheld this still, nakedness sprawled on the bed. This is all she would give him. A corpse. Parts of him lashed out and shattered the pretty things she collected.

He pulsed with the desire to crush her, leave nothing but a bloody, broken body. One of the many dark pleasures he enjoyed. He couldn’t, not to her. The bedroom disintegrated as tendrils sprang from his gaseous body and whipped about the room. Nothing escaped swift destruction, except the soulless form on the bed. SET drew his expanded self together and calmed, reined in his darkness. Once composed, a tendril wrapped around her waist and dragged her limp body to the edge. He transformed from his preferred state to a more solid form, his dark swirling essences, momentarily trapped beneath a barrier of thin, translucent skin. He could be any-thing, male, female, or animal, but he made himself into a form he knew she would desire; a tall, muscular male. He looked down and studied his member jutting proudly forward. Cylindrical, the appendage had none of the features that completed the male anatomy. No sacs, no hair, no veiny sinews, and no bulbous head with a slit opening. Not his favorite form, he tolerated it for Nephythys. His gaseous state was much more functional. The boundaries of flesh disturbed him. Limited him. Made him vulnerable to all the vagaries humans suffered. Never would he bind himself into human form. She would have to accept this substitute. SET spread her legs apart and studied her opening. Dry, no moisture wept for him. In his gaseous form, her arousal didn’t matter. He could penetrate every part of her body, simultaneously filling, repeatedly until all his frustrations were excised.

He touched the jutting part of him to her opening and felt her shriveled membranes brace. This will hurt, he thought with a cruel grin. His essences pulsed beneath the translucent skin, taking pleasure at the thought of her pain. But physical pain healed while a wounded heart festered. Somewhere on the island, her spirit waited for his departure and the ritual cleansing to be completed. Once the Nulls removed all evidence of his presence, only then would she rejoin her body. Nothing of his visit would remain. Angry, he thrust inside and buried as deep as the appendage allowed. Something pricked his eyes and a bead of moisture rolled down the slope of his face. He touched the strangeness, smoothed it between his fingers. Tears. He jerked away from his wife and reverted to his gaseous state. This is why he never took the disgusting form. Quivering in annoyance—or maybe fright—he fled the destroyed room and ended up in the alcove. Thank Ra she wasn’t here to witness the display. It would give her pleasure to see him so weak. Her laughter would ring in the council chamber. The God of Evil would not suffer humiliation. Agitated, he swirled about the room, brushing every surface, filling every microscopic crevice. He brushed something. The remnants of man.

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