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This story will draw from Episode 10, as well some other episodes and auxiliary clips.
It's going to be a slightly different universe: instead of presenting the characters of Jinniyya and Darbouka as scientific inventors,
there's going to be a pseudo-mystical element which changes the story from being about an Arabic version of Supergirl to more of a
tale about an Arabic version of O Mighty Isis. Hopefully, you'll agree that this is an intriguing idea.
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Dr. Zaynab El-Basri was distracted.
The brilliant archaeologist had arrived at the base of the Cathedral of Learning, not in the superheroine costume of her alter-ego, but in her professional work clothes.She had just come from a meeting in the nearby Frick Building, discussing the possibility of a research grant with the Dean of the History Department, and didn't have the time or the opportunity to change. She was too busy thinking about the prospects of her upcoming return trip back to the ruins of Ebla where, unbeknownst to her foundation benefactors, her amazing story had originated.
Dr. El-Basri had her beautiful dark hair tied back tightly in a constrained ponytail. She was wearing the usual black spectacles which she didn't need for reading, but helped to characterize her separate civilian identity. The Lebanese professor completed her office attire with a sport jacket over a buttoned-up white blouse and gray pants, befitting the appearance of a modern academic woman with a formidable reputation of scholarship in the ancient history of Middle East. There were few who could match her in that field.
Usually, she would enter with a grandiose flourish through the roof skylight, gliding down to the Heroine League meeting room on her majestic controlled air currents, and performing the perfect superheroine landing as her powerful fists contacted the floor and her shiny black heeled boots hit the surface with a satisfying THUMP. Sometimes, an overly sarcastic heroine like Arcana would make snide comments about how Zaynab overdid her pretentious entrances for dramatic effect.
But not this time. Instead, Dr. El-Basri decided to take the same humble method that all the other heroines did, except for Poderosa. She breezed through the revolving doors at the base of the Cathedral, and then pressed the button for the 58th floor. The elevator doors would only open once the cameras that X-Machina and Cybrina had installed had confirmed her identity, scanning her face and body for hundreds of data points.
With the scanning procedure complete, the lovely archeologist stepped inside. The doors closed behind her, enclosing her in the elevator, and she took a moment to recall the details of how her saga had begun.
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Several months ago, Zaynab had just recently returned from the ancient city of Ebla in western Syria. As a precocious post-doc, she had the distinct privilege of leading the expedition from the University of Pittsburgh to excavate the ruins of the Temple of Astarte. It hadn't hurt that she had deep ethnic ties to the region: her Maronite Christian family had lived in northern Lebanon for centuries, migrating to the United States in the 1920 during the Civil War.
During the month or so that she was camped near Ebla, Dr. El-Basri made a series of very important discoveries about the lines of Ebla's kingship and the worship rites of the ancient Amorite pantheon. She was willing and able to read the cuneiform writings - possibly the oldest alphabetic system in the world - and came back with enough information to write a year's worth of papers for the various archeological journals.
Her trip to Syria was an unqualified success, except for two things. Firstly, she had found a unique artifact in the Temple, a stone amulet made of meteorite material, which had text on it that disturbed her greatly..so much so, that she kept the artifact in her apartment to shield it from academic scrutiny, while she figured out what to do with it.
The second problem was much more pressing. Upon her arrival back in Pittsburgh, she was immediately set upon by her overbearing mother Fatima to help out with shifts in their family-owned Lebanese restaurant, Dijlah, which means "arrow" in Arabic.
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"Ummi!...Mom!" the Lebanese girl would retort, her beautiful long black hair tied back in a ponytail to keep it out of the way of the food.
"I'm an archeologist! I know you don't have anyone else to rely on, and I'm sorry about that, but I just don't want to take over the family business!
It just doesn't leave me any time for my classes or for the papers I have to write..."
"Classes? Papers?" chided her Mom. "We sent you to school to learn about running a business! And maybe meet a nice Christian boy. And now you're out there, digging in the hot sun, getting dirty in the sand? That's no job for an Arab lady!"
"But that's what I want to do with my life, Mom! Not to make people shawarma and falafel, for Christ's sake," Zaynab shot back. "Can't I at least reduce my waitressing hours to just one day a week?"
"We'll talk about this later, Zaynab!" Fatima replied gruffly. "Right now, you've got an order up."
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"This rice is cold!" barked the woman with curly red hair and glasses who was sitting at the table with her bespectacled partner, wearing his fancy ascot.
"Yes, and this lamb is undercooked," added the man, dismissing Zaynab with a wave of his hand. "Bring us a new plate!"
"Yes, sir," Zaynab retreated back to the kitchen with their plates. "I'll get you a new one, no problem..."
She had really wanted to lay into the couple for being such pretentious yuppies! But that would have caused problems for her mother's business, and Zaynab didn't want to drive any more of a rift between them than already existed.
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"At last!" she sighed, exhausted from the evening's labor. "I'll just pack this up in a takeaway box and bring it back to the apartment. Maybe I'll eat
it later after I've caught a few winks. Got to get ready for class tomorrow!"
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There, next to her bedside, Zaynab found the secret artifact she had hidden from the rest of the members of the Syrian expedition - the stone amulet with the symbol of the fertility goddess, Astarte. Using her knowledge of Eblaite cuneiform, she read the inscription: "Whomsoever holds this in their hands, and reaches the moment of greatest pleasure, will become a Goddess on Earth!"
Perusing the ancient text for the dozenth time, the brilliant post-doc still had no idea what it meant. Grasping the amulet in her left hand, she sought only the blissful abandon of sleep, to rest her weary head from the evening's hectic chaos.
But there was no peace for Zaynab that night, and not for some other citizens of Pittsburgh as well, as an unexpected meteor from deep space had shattered right above Downtown Pittsburgh, emitting dark energy radiation in every direction.
The dark energy easily penetrated the thin walls of Dr. El-Basri's apartment, and as she slept, the radiation channeled directly through the otherworldly meteorite material of the amulet she held in her left hand. Her skin began to absorb the radiation, and it spread throughout her body via her bloodstream.
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Without realizing why, Zaynab began to feel incredibly aroused. This was unusual, because normally she was quite sexually repressed. Her mother had drilled it into her during high school that masturbation was morally wrong, and that the warm feelings that she harbored for some of her lovely female classmates were taboo, and not to be acknowledged or discussed further.
Driven as she was by accomplishing the goals in her archeology career, the truth within Zaynab had long been suppressed...until now. Her long-buried tendencies rose to the surface, demanding the release of her desire.
As if compelled by a mighty urge, she slipped her right hand under her soft Pitt sweatshirt and began to caress her own perky breasts, making the nipples harden. This was a sensation that she had long been denied by social convention...and it felt so good!
The beautiful archeologist titled her head back and moaned gently, "Oooohhhh!" at the touch of her own fingers against her skin, which felt increasingly warm and pliant. As she explored her own sensuality, Zaynab could feel a moistness seeping from her crotch.
Zaynab could hold back no longer. Even though she had little experience in the ways of her own body, she instinctively knew what to do. She inserted two fingers of her right hand into the crevice of her tight vagina, stroking in and out, in and out, while keening with satisfaction. By now, she had dropped the mysterious amulet, which had rolled onto the floor.
"Aaaahhhhh!" she groaned, as the gorgeous curly black hairs of her pubic mound unfurled in exultation around a new gland that seemed to be developing just under her skin, causing a bit of pain at first, but then careening into ecstasy. The archeologist's lovely clit protruded rigidly at attention, like a soldier ready for battle.
Continuing to masturbate methodically under her soft blue garment, Zaynab's senses filled with passionate thoughts about her own body that she had never felt before. "I feel so beautiful...so powerful...what in the world could be making me do this?" she wondered briefly to herself, but the scientific rationality was quickly swept away by the torrent of orgasm flooding her system.
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Within seconds, Zaynab's muscle tissue was growing and expanding under her heated flesh. She felt her abdominal muscles turning into slabs hard as steel, and her shoulders broadening. Her biceps and triceps became rippling packets of pure brawn, and her chest muscles gained so much extra mass that her breasts began to swell more prominently like perfectly rounded mountain peaks.
Zaynab felt the sensation travel down to her thighs, which amassed inches of muscular thickness like powerful tree trunks. The warm sensation of orgasm, traveling outwards from her soaking-wet pussy, was launching her entire body into hitherto unknown territories of raw power and strength.
Somehow, the amulet had initiated a process converting her into a superhuman form, yet with the womanly curves of an ancient goddess of fertility.
But that wasn't the only change which the Lebanese post-doc was experiencing. What she didn't know without looking in a mirror was that her face was slowly becoming more beautiful, mutating ever so slightly to fit her internal preconceived notion of the perfect Middle Eastern siren. Her eyes grew softer in appearance and more seductive in appeal, her cheeks acquired a naturally attractive blush, and her lips turned bright ruby-red, moist and enticing.
"Aaaaaahhhhhhhh!" Zaynab screamed, exploding into her final orgasm, while sticky juices escaped her vulva, staining her lacy panties. Although she experienced a sensation of unbridled power, she was also even more worn out than when she had first collapsed onto the bed.
All of the energy that Zaynab's cells had expended transforming her physical self had been spent, and she had no vigor left to even keep her alert any longer.
The amulet which had apparently helped trigger her change lay forgotten on the floor, and she fell fast asleep, cozy and exhausted inside her blue Pitt sweatshirt, her beautiful long dark hair tousled across the bedspread.
