INVISIBLE CELLS Pt.1 a version of history.

Chapter 1. Hardcore Marduk & Tiamat

'Have we tried everything? We have. And do we bravely plod on? We do.'
'Oedipus put out his eyes and wandered. All I can do is close mine and let the visions whirl.'
'Birth of a Private Man' David Mercer

In the beginning of everything, one, called Marduk, waded, cursing and farting, through the formless, steamy waters. Warm vapours induced sensual feelings in his enormous, swinging balls, and this increased his impatience. This continued for an eternity. Marduk could be heard approaching from a long way off, but, because of the hot mist, could be seen only at the last moment, when on top of you.

Even for a god he was immense. His long face measured three hundred and seventy times ten thousand worlds, as ancient mythology had expressed it. The great waters came up only to his knees, and his towering immensity, above the surface, seemed increased by the gigantic, grey hairs stretching out all around him, from his head, armpits, chest, loins and ass. He was the archetypal giant, a primaeval hoarding.

His cock was a monstrosity in its own right. It took two forms. One, like a brandished weapon forged out of the restless rhythmic wading, and the other, like a thick rope, a life-line against the fathomless depths.

No thought entered Marduk's head, no image motivated his search, but his activity continued, intent on encountering something other than the oceanic sameness. Marduk needed a purpose desperately, like an excavator, on the move, without a driver.

From the beginning, Marduk was not alone, but he did not know this. There was one other, who was called Tiamat, whom the Hebrews called Tehom. She lived in the great waters. She was a giant serpent and very beautiful, even though she had never been seen by any beholder other than herself, oh! and, as they always, on purpose, always forgot to mention one lone echinoid. Her body was firm and smooth, and she could undulate and vibrate any part of it, suggestively. At will she could turn pure white, or shiny black, or brown, or golden, and she had one orifice more than Marduk, though no cock.

It was a perpetual delight to her to spread her body languorously in the warm waters, like an early client in a swimming pool, believing she had it to herself, not requiring a costume. Her thoughts were slow and seldom but her senses were full, her eyes mesmerised by the beauty of the varied emergence of her own smooth body above the surface of the water. Otherwise, she passed the eternity vibrating her tail between the lips of her orifices, each orifice producing its own unique, exquisite sensation. She sought nothing beyond this existence. Was this the DNA of feminism? It was a question Jilly sometimes asked.

Eventually, in the absurdity of things, blind chance determined that Marduk would come trampling into Tiamat's foamy depths. It could have been otherwise but it was not.

Despite Marduk's size he was no match for Tiamat's sinuous strength. Her tail was the first whip. Tiamat uncoiled her whip and whacked Marduk across the chest. He was taken aback. She slid round him and whacked him across his big ass. She whacked his thighs and then his cock. With her mouth she pulled his cock and shook his balls. She wanked his cock until he couldn't help himself. Up it came. She whacked his ass again and again. He got harder.

Pulling Marduk down into the waters, she arched her back far above him and peed on him. His hard-on remained. Then, she lowered herself on him, rubbing one of her slits against the head of his cock, until she slipped the whole thing up her. She started to fuck him. Sitting on his cock she bounced up and down, and rocked to and fro, shaking his cock in her cunt, mercilessly. She called him 'fucker' and, at this, he came, but his hard-on would not go down.

She continued fucking him, whacking him with her whip all the time. The rape of Marduk made her ass get hot for him. All she wanted was to pull her cunt open and to get as much of his dick as she could, and if she had to whack him, and bump up and down on him, and scratch him 'til he bled, and spit on him, and call him 'fucker', then she would. At last she came and he came again, then she felt warm, vibrant and powerful.

Marduk was both fascinated and appalled by Tiamat. When she uncoiled herself from him and lay back to sleep in the hot foam created by their writhings, Marduk looked down upon her with utter loathing and contempt. This was the first time ever that a male failed to understand how the female had come to be the object of his desire. Gripped by fury, Marduk opened his mouth, bared his great teeth, lowered his head over her sleeping body, and bit her in two.

There, then, poured forth, from her severed body, thousands upon thousands of serpents, some with the extra slit like Tiamat and some with cocks like Marduk. Marduk's anger thundered above the waters so much that he created a great flash of lightning, which circled the sky before, like a boomerang, it returned to consume him, turning him into a pillar of fire.

Had Marduk's path not crossed Tiamat's lagoon, chaos would have been eternal and nothing would have mattered from one end of existence to the other. As it was, a contradiction, that might have gone unnoticed, gave birth to a principle out of which history emerged.

The echinoid was a heart-shaped sea urchin. It witnessed everything. During the great turbulence, which shook the earth to its core, the sea urchin burrowed deep into the sea-bed. Neither Marduk or Tiamat knew of the sea urchin, but, much later, one of their male offspring nosed it out and had intercourse with it through its anus and, so, another principle entered history. The sea urchin had no desire to be part of history, it had no teeth for it. However, it entered history through the origin of species, which was sex between species, as myth had always known, but which science couldn't discover and, therefore, refused to countenance.

'Inevitably imprecisely,' as, knowledgably, they would repeat to each other, 250,000 - 300,000 years later, if these mythic events had any actuality, two women, middle-aged and sisters, were inhabited by the meanings of Marduk and Tiamat. The women entertained an hypothesis about the past which they knew marked them off from others. They joked about it and called it 'alternative history'. It was not something they had made up themselves. Others had been involved in its construction. They would never affirm its truth, but it lurked at the back of their lives, like superstitions, at times restraining them and filling them with unease. Also, it acted as a springboard for splashy dives into the deep end.

The cognitive relation between themselves and this history was complex. To understand this, the history itself must be known.

Chapter 2. 'the age of the serpent will live again'

Of the two sisters Jackie was more the one who was concerned with intellectual niceties. She insisted that Marduk and Tiamat were part of pre-history rather than history. Myth preceded history. Their 'alternative history' began with what professional historians called 'Ancient History', and the sisters' version of it was a selected history. It began with the end of Lydian imperialism, although their telling of it was as much concerned with erotic terror as it was with affairs of State.

Most historians would have agreed with the sisters that the last king of Lydia was Croesus and that he loved Apollo. By following the demands of Apollo, Croesus had amassed great riches and power over others. Apollo was the chic face and body of Marduk, an antique PR image, created by Marduk's acolytes, designed to hide the grossness of Marduk from the world. This was alternative history.

Croesus had a weakness, or was it an infuriating fondness? They never knew for sure. Whichever, he hated himself for it. It, was a girl who worked as a baker in the court bakery, in Sardis. Although of lowly birth and only fourteen, she was in the eyes of many the most beautiful girl ever born. Jackie and Jilly would add to this 'and, probably, the most beautiful who will ever be born.' Croesus' appreciation of her beauty was pure lust, naked biology and against his will.

He was forever plaguing his ministers with intimate descriptions of the breadmaker, saliva appearing at the corners of his mouth as he did so.

'Her pubic hair, you know, is so black and crisp. Yes, "crisp", tingles to the touch, that's how it is. Can you imagine her thighs? Thick and strong, so full of cool goodness, but the insides burn. Her skin, smooth as olives, the colour of oysters. She is a serpent. She has the eyes of a serpent, certainly she has the motion of a serpent.'

When Croesus mentioned 'serpent' his ministers became nervous, reminded of their most sacred, but secret responsibility.

'Would you like to fuck her?' he would ask. 'She's a hard, narrow fuck, I'll tell you that. At the moment of your release she shows you her strong, white teeth.'

Croesus could have her whenever he wanted, which was often, but because he had her, no one else dared, though many desired to.

There were things about the breadmaker of which Croesus would not speak. These were things which really tormented him. Many times he asked her why she never appeared to enjoy him. He was never able to turn her on, no matter how big he made the golden dildos with which he fucked her. Once, when cross-questioning her, the insertion of the dildo being particularly painful, she had confessed to a liking for girls. The king of Lydia was furious. It was unthinkable that his great gold and power could not command desire. He fucked her harder and harder but he thought it was never enough to make an imprint on her mettle.

'I hate the man and all like him,' Hermus, keeper of the treasury, often confided to Tamnos, his assistant. He was speaking of Croesus. Hermus would gather Tamnos to his bosom in the depths of the Lydian night, and, over several bottles of ancient wine, bury the two of them away in the bowels of the treasury, blanketed in sodomy.

'I have told you before, he is the weak link in this Mermnad dynasty. The sins of Gyges weigh too heavily on Croesus' shoulders.' Hermus referred to Gyges thrusting his dagger into the breast of a sweating and tormented Candaules and usurping the throne, some four generations back. Everyone knew the story. King Candaules was excited by the thought of other men knowing his wife. Gyges was Candaules bodyguard, a big, muscular man. The thought of his wife bumping and grinding over Gyges' muscle was a thrilling fantasy Candaules never tired of envisioning. Candaules would tease Gyges’ imagination with accounts of his wife's naked body. Eventually, he brought the fantasy to life. Gyges entered the royal bedchamber, but with Candaules concealed behind the drapes to witness his own shaming. In the delirium of this shame, the drapes parted on Candaules, exposing the excruciation of his face and the excreta of his enlarged genitals. This sight and smell so stirred his wife's disgust that she screamed for Gyges to take not only herself but the gold and kingdom as well. Candaules blood gushed from him as though pumped from a well, covering Gyges glistening torso, leaving it a bed of gold, stained by rivulets of red sandstone, like the exploited landscape of Lydia itself.

'He certainly talks of the bakery girl as though she was Candaules' wife. Perhaps, he wants to re-enact the death of Candaules and so expiate the sin which founded the Mermnads, an act of purification, to leave the future safe in the hands of Atys, his son.' Tamnos loved to speculate, especially under the influence of wine.

'Let me tell you Tamnos, something you do not know, something your flights of fancy have not glimpsed,' Even more than his own speculations Tamnos loved it when his mentor would reveal to him a little more of the complex world they inhabited, He was learning statesmanship and Hermus was his instructor.

'Croesus' breadmaker is a Scythian!'

Hermus allowed this announcement to reverberate in Tamnos' head. The Scythians were a fierce race of people, half Mongol and half European. They lived in wagons, rode wild horses, and both males and females rode into battle, the females more bloodthirsty than the males. Female Scythians had only one breast, the left one, the right having been cauterized at birth. They were forbidden to violate their virginity until after they had killed at least three enemies.

Tamnos asked, 'Is she a virgin?'

'No, she is not.' Hermus could see the consternation he was causing, registering in Tamnos' furious rubbing of his lower lip.

'Does she have a right as well as a left breast?'

'She conceals it well, but, no, she does not. I believe Croesus finds this a peculiar delight, but he keeps it very much to himself.'

'How do you know all this?' The sceptic in Tamnos was almost as pronounced as the speculator.

'Tamnos, my dear, she is one of us. I know everything about her. She is here for a mission, or should I say, a sacrifice, whichever, she is a girl inured to pain.'

'I imagine Hermus, she would have to be if she lets Croesus play the doctor with her.' At this Tamnos bordered between epilepsy and giggles, a fit in either case, as the sisters had heard others remark.

Hermus reached over and held Tamnos' wrists firm with his gigantic hands, as though he was controlling Tamnos' outbursts. 'This is not a time to be laughing. Solon, the lawmaker, is on his way from Athens to visit Croesus, if we do not act soon there will be no prising apart the Marduk's jaws, the rule of law will hold all of us in chains, forever.'

'You have a plan, I know it! There is a plan. The age of the serpent will live again.'

'Croesus likes you Tamnos, he likes your flights of fancy, they appeal to his sense of purpose. You could easily sow seed in his mind. So listen carefully,' and Hermus went on to slip Tamnos the seed.