Two feet, clad in heavy hiking boots, landed on uneven, rocky ground. Exhaling heavily, Miss Eliza Cooke - intrepid young explorer and wealthy socialite - disconnected the cable attached to the harness she wore over her clothes, and then turned to survey her surroundings, fishing a pair of binoculars out of her bag.

Jagged cliffs rose above her on all sides. The ocean roared in the near distance, slipping through the gaps and crevices to crash against the rocks lower down in the chasm into which she had abseiled. It was a veritable devil’s cauldron. In a mere two hours, the tide would rise enough to swallow the surface she was currently standing on, rendering it impossible to escape back to the summit above. But she had no intention of remaining that long. If she hadn’t found what she was searching for by then, it wasn’t here. It wasn’t as if there were many places to check.

Her eyes fell upon an opening on the cliff opposite the one she’d climbed down, wide enough that a cave could lie beyond. Crossing the rough plain carefully, avoiding the gaps that led to deeper crevasses within the cauldron, Eliza scaled the short distance to the cave entrance. Given that it wasn’t that far up, she didn’t bother using her grappling hook this time. Why waste another cable, when she was definitely an experienced enough rock climber to traverse such a short distance?

Every rich heiress, Eliza believed, should find something to devote their lives to. Those that didn’t - that had all the money in the world, no demands on their time at all, and yet squandered their years on the Earth pampering themselves, drinking, partying, and searching for a spouse - weren’t worth talking to. Inheriting her mother’s love of outdoor pursuits like hiking, climbing and swimming, and a little of her father’s interest in archaeology, Eliza had invested her time and energy in exploring the little-known regions of the world, salvaging lost, ancient treasures from the most treacherous sites. She did not keep what she found, instead returning them to whichever locals lived nearest or were descended from the civilisations who first created the artefacts. Nor did she seek any reward for her efforts.

No, her reward was the adventure, and the elation of success. The pounding of her heart, the humming of her skin. The knowledge that she had done what few, if any, had ever done before. She had just abseiled down one of the most dangerous cliffs in the world, and was entirely unscathed. Even for someone who had spent almost a decade training for such feats, it was still a remarkable achievement. If she left empty-handed, it had been a good day regardless. Leaving the way she came would prove more difficult, but she was confident she would be able to. And she had a satellite phone and a flare gun, with which to signal for help if she really had to. She’d hired a rescue team with their own helicopter for that very purpose. She was an adrenaline junkie, not an idiot.

She completed the short ascent to the cave opening, rising smoothly to her feet, and turned back to look back down at the stretch of ground she had left behind, a broad shelf on the edge of the ravine. A quiver went through her, her most sensitive areas tingling pleasantly. She grinned with faint bemusement. Her escapades usually thrilled her, but they didn’t often turn her on! She supposed she had been a little pent-up in the months since her last relationship had ended. She’d had no trouble satisfying herself on her own, but there hadn’t been much time for that during this week-long expedition. Perhaps the blood pumping through her body as she’d traversed the treacherous terrain had stirred up her suppressed lust.

Or perhaps, she thought wryly, the nature of the artefact she was seeking was having a subconscious effect on her. The few scraps of information she’d been able to dig up suggested it was an ancient fertility totem. She’d found enough of those to know that ‘fertility totem’ often translated as ‘sex toy’. If anything, that made her more willing to risk life and limb trying to retrieve it, just for the comedic value. Her friends always appreciated tales of her latest perilous adventures all the more when the punchline was a prehistoric dildo.

Eliza stepped deeper into the cave, switching on the torches mounted on her shoulders as she moved into an area of lower light. The twin beams illuminated a taller rock wall not far ahead. For a moment she grimaced, annoyed at the effort she had wasted on an apparent dead end, before making herself look around more carefully. Her experiences had taught her that even when the path ahead seemed impossible, there was often a solution - especially when seeking out lost treasures. Those that had hidden them usually contrived to bar access to them with insurmountable obstacles, while also including the equivalent of a secret door so they themselves could reclaim their valuables.

It didn’t take long to spot the gap at the top of the rock wall - high enough and hard enough to see that a less seasoned explorer would more than likely miss it, especially in the dark, but someone of Eliza Cooke’s experience and insight found it with little difficulty. The corner of her mouth twitched into a triumphant half-smile, which morphed into a bewildered smirk as her erogenous zones gently pulsed again. She didn’t know what was going on with her, but she wasn’t exactly upset about it! She hoped it didn’t grow beyond her control, though - she’d hate to reach such a state of excitement that she lost her grip and fell...

Despite these mild concerns, she nonetheless began to expertly climb the rough barrier, her torches casting light upon each handhold before she took it. Though she’d had harder challenges in her time, the exertion soon seemed to get to her. As she reached the halfway point, she paused for a moment to take stock. Warmth permeated her body, her cheeks felt flushed, and her breathing was increasingly heavy. But it wasn’t from the exertion.

She gritted her teeth. She was getting too horny! She could feel urgent shivers darting across her body like electric currents, circling her breasts and her rear, stroking along her slit... This was crossing the line from pleasantly strange to a potential hindrance.

She hung from the wall for a few long seconds, forcing herself to take slow, deep breaths and calm down. There would be plenty of time to satisfy her inflamed libido later, once she had returned to safety with her prehistoric prize. Once she was satisfied she had quelled her inexplicable ardour, she resumed the climb.

At the summit, she found a gap into a shaft just large enough for someone with her slender figure, long enough that the light from her shoulder torches couldn’t reach the end. Never having suffered from claustrophobia nor nyctophobia, the undeterred Eliza crawled onwards, heart pounding with anticipation. The surface she was creeping along was much smoother than the rock wall, and the dark, far from being daunting, felt warm and welcoming. It reminded her of nighttime in her tent, lying in her sleeping bag on hard ground in near-total darkness, letting her hand creep down the front of her trousers and massage her needy quim, trying to stifle her sounds of passion so her travelling companions in the neighbouring tents - local guides, hired helpers and the like - didn’t overhear...

Eliza chided herself again, realising to her frustration that she had slowed almost to a standstill (or crouchstill, she supposed) as she got lost in the lewd memories. How could she let herself get distracted this close to her goal? With renewed determination, she continued onwards, doing her best to ignore the insistent throbbing between her legs.

At last the low roof above her fell away, and she emerged into a wide, pitch-black space. With the beams from her torches not strong enough to illuminate much of her surroundings, she fished a more powerful lamp out of her backpack, switched it on, and set it down nearby. She was standing in a large cavern, mostly featureless aside from the stone plinth at the other end, inches away from the opposite wall.

And displayed atop the plinth, proudly pointing upwards, was a wooden phallus.

She exhaled jubilantly, and was startled when the sound came out as a plaintive moan. Thoughts of her success were buried beneath a torrent of mental images, as she imagined what it’d be like to slide that inside her. She had sex toys at home, of course, but neglected to take any with her on her expeditions, packing only what was necessary. And she had to admit, as skilful as her fingers were, she missed the feeling of a broad manhood thrusting inside her...

Before she even made the conscious decision to move, she was darting forwards, her usual confident striding gait replaced by a frantic scurry. She stumbled, her natural sure-footedness undermined by her increasing fervour, but regained her balance with her arms outstretched and waving at either side. Her gaze never left the dildo in the near distance. She had to get to it. She had to have it. She needed it.

As she scampered closer, her keen eyes registered more details of the artefact, her subconscious filing away the facts for later. It was a little above average length - seven or eight inches, she would’ve guessed - rather than being monstrously exaggerated, as such items frequently were. It was thick, that was certain, but not too thick - she definitely had girthier dildos at home. It was adorned with a pair of testicles, adding to the overall realism of the wooden sculpture. She noted the runes carved into its length, which she couldn’t identify - even at this quick, cursory glance, she didn’t recognise them as belonging to any language she knew. She would have to consult her friend Hazel, who was an expert in ancient linguistics and runology.

Right now, though, translating the runes was the farthest thing from her horny mind. Reaching the narrow altar upon which the artefact stood, she reached out to seize it - and hesitated, struck by sudden reverence for the ancient idol. She gazed at it as if mesmerised, her mouth agape, her eyes fixed on its bulbous head. Tentatively, she reached forwards again and extended her middle finger towards the very tip of the phallus.

As soon as her fingertip made contact with the wooden point, she let out a cry that echoed around the cavern, her strong legs buckling beneath her as her already ardent arousal became overwhelming. She managed to grab the totem around the shaft as her legs gave way and she dropped to the floor. Whimpering desperately, she lay back against the side of the plinth, pawing at her chest and crotch with one hand while the other clutched the ancient dildo in a grip of iron, her eyes crossing and rolling in their sockets.

She’d forgotten where she was, what she was doing. She could barely remember her own name. All her thoughts and awareness had been drowned out by need - insatiable, all-consuming need. She needed to get off. She needed the wooden cock between her legs. She needed it.

She hurriedly unbuckled her belt and shucked off her trousers, as well as the comfortable briefs she wore beneath, letting her bare buttocks thud back down onto the hard stone floor. Thrusting the phallus towards her groin, she hissed elatedly as she began to massage her wet pussy with the knobbly base, rubbing it back and forth on and between her lips.

It didn’t occur to her, at first, that she had the ancient sexual aid the wrong way around, pointing the phallus outwards instead of sticking it inside herself. She stared dumbly at the primitive sex toy as the runes across its surface began to glow, as if lit from within by a blazing fire, and kept grinding it up and down her slit, helpless to stop herself, a slave to her lust. She was so close. Her need to cum was all she could think of, even as she watched the icon shine brighter and brighter.

Before the light grew too much to bear, her eyes rolled shut as she crested, her back slamming into the stone behind her. Within the grasp of her curled fingers, hard wood turned into taut skin, a static object abruptly animated, twitching and throbbing. At the very brink of release, Eliza suddenly felt something that hadn’t been there before, some new protrusion from her body, filling her with sensations she’d never experienced... but she was in no state to recognise what had happened, or think through the implications, as she was struck by the most powerful orgasm she’d ever had, bellowing with ecstasy as she felt herself squirt. Something hot and wet splattered onto her thigh, but she didn’t care.

She thought she might have passed out for a few moments. She came to her senses slowly, panting with immense satisfaction, her mind totally clear and serene, gazing down between her legs. Belatedly, she processed what her eyes were telling her, registering the sight of the transformed phallus, and the sticky substance plastered on her thigh.

For several long seconds she remained silent, her eyebrows knitted together in a confused, concerned frown. Finally she found her voice, her deadpan tone belying her total astonishment.

“So... I guess I have a dick now?”