Breeding the Minotaur

This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.

All characters in all of my stories are over eighteen and legal adults in all sexual situations.

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Breeding the Minotaur

Devon gulped as he crept down to the shore, his bare hooves leaving imprints in the sand that he could only hope would be washed away. It was nearly high tide and risky enough for the anthro horse to be out there doing what he was doing right there and then as it was, his heart in his mouth, muscles bunched up with tension that really should not have been present considering the need of everything. There was only one thing a stallion like him could do with so little time and, still, so very much at stake too.

It was dire. Other furs had been getting roughed up in town, the sea-faring town up on the cliffs, and he didn't know what else he could do but try to find out what was happening. Sometimes they remembered what had happened to them up to the point where they were knocked unconscious but tales of a shadowy presence in the darkness were not enough to go on when he needed to find some way to sort all of it out, to bring his little town back to some sense of normal. Not because he was of any great importance to the village but just that he was a hunter who wanted to make sure his grounds were safe, whether he was stalking prey along the shoreline, mammals looking to take fish, or delving back into the woods.

Devon frowned, mane drifting against his neck in a black spill. Nothing passed by his notice and neither would some shadowy presence that was taking anthros, some not even returning, presumably, disappearing into the night without a trace left behind.

The cave loomed, his eyes having adjusted to the darkness, though he knew that there wouldn't be a prick of starlight inside to guide his way, holding his breath as his feet found holds in the rock. It was in the side of the cliff as if he was descending into old smuggling tunnels and, truly, the system may have very well have been used for smuggling at some point. The cave, however, was the only lead that Devon had to go on, some stumbling and mumbling and going on about being taken "on the beach", the trail of scuffed-up hoof prints telling the tale that their lips could not.

He did not speak, could not speak, his knife at his hip, though Devon would only come to see in time how useless it was in the grand scheme of things. Against her, it would never have been enough to defend himself. He was helpless before her, a towering beast of a minotaur, a thick mane of wild, red hair spilling down her head, from between her horns. She bellowed, slamming her huge paws into the wall on either side of his head, her snort wafting his mane back from his neck even as Devon's lips opened and closed, his mind simply not comprehending what he was seeing right there before him.

His caution hadn't gotten him anywhere, the stallion's mind swimming, spinning, sand connecting with his cheek. Dimly, in the darkness, he was aware that the minotaur had hurled him to the sand and he was scrabbling, trying to crawl away, a torch that she had set into the wall burning. How did the equine, however, know that she was female? Well, the fact that she was entirely naked and painted from head to hoof, her brown fur coated, in war paint, the slashes and sharp cuts of it making her appear even more fearsome than, presumably, she naturally was, as he howled brokenly and tried to crawl away.

The minotaur's bellow echoed off the cave walls but there was a glimmer in her eyes that was not for bloodlust as she smirked crudely and hefted him up, tossing up on the pile of blankets that passed for her bed, set up on a stone ledge where she was protected from the elements. As much as Devon gasped and reeled back, there was nowhere to go, the minotaur looming, thundering, snarling.

"Foolish colt..."

And then she had him where she wanted him, pinning him down and tearing his clothes from neck to ankles, not caring for all that she destroyed in the process of making her needs well enough known to him. Her naked breasts heaved, a spiral of paint drawing his eye down to her nipples, and, in the dancing light of the torch, Devon gasped, the musculature of her thick, needy body more than even he could handle in the heat of the moment.

The anthro stallion could not have said just why he did what he did but he was moving before he realised what he was doing, the moment to fight back, to turn back, passing in but the blink of an eye. The minotaur beast was on him, hooves scrabbling against his, and she must have moved too to close the distance between them, her lips savagely meeting his in the bite of a kiss. It was nothing tender like what he may have had with his partners before but the stallion would have been lying if he did not say that it took his breath away, hips rising, something responding deep inside him to the musky, carnal nature of her scent.

Maybe instinct was still there after so long but she was so musky and sweet, both at the same time, that Devon's body could not resist her, his shaft bared as it was exposed to be pushing from his sheath. The shreds of his clothing hung about his lithe yet muscular frame but they weren't going to help him as he leaned into her need, kissing her back with as much passion as he could. Her breasts heaved against him and, as he kissed her, just a little of her fervour softened, driving him on into the bare bones of a plan that may very well have been well past the edge of insanity.

Maybe... Maybe all she needed was to get laid.

As wild an idea as that was (and a little egotistic too on his part), her moan against his mouth and the tremble of her body matched up with his tail and the stallion could only try, try to tame the beast who had been taking others, presumably for her pleasure. He bore her back with as much strength as he had in his body, desperation driving him on, her paws scrabbling for his cock and finding a thick length of stallion-dick right where it belonged. A pawjob was not to be as softly caressing as he may have wanted but he moved over her, her legs spreading, wrapping around his waist as he covered her body with his own.

His heart pounded, mouth dry, the minotaur's head rolling back as her humping gyrations positioned his cock perfectly at her folds, practically begging him for what she truly needed. Devon pushed in, throwing all manner of his old caution to the wind, her bellows deafening, the minotaur humping and grinding up at him as if it was the last fuck she would ever get. Maybe it was the last real one that she'd had in ages (no one had come back talking of sex, at the very least) and he was the only one who could give it to her, the stallion grunting and heaving as he pounded her.

The velveteen soft heat of her cunt wrapped around his breeding pole was almost more than the stallion could handle but he had to do it, had to keep going, grunting and snorting, powering over her. She could have easily have thrown him off with how burly and thick her muscles were, though her chest and wide hips nicely balanced out her physique so that she was still quite feminine, but she did not. And there had to be a reason for that even as he took advantage of the naked vulnerability of her tits, nipping and suckling at her nipples with raw abandon. Everything he had he gave to her with raw abandon, her tight cunt wrapping around his cock as if it was meant to be there, a tight fit still with his equine length but a perfect fit too at the same time.

Yes, she was a female who could take his dick and he lost himself in her greedy need, their moans rising, the sound of waves crashing on the shore echoing not all that far away. Down there, no one could disturb them or even knew where they were as he hammered into her over and over again, kissing and slurping at her breasts and even pushing his muzzle between them too, all for his greedy pleasure. She had to have it, the minotaur lady with a history he was yet to know, yet her thighs squeezed him tight, clearly letting him know that he was not going anywhere until she had well and truly had her fill of him in more ways than simply the one.

Her bellows echoed off the walls and he ground into her, securing her lips in a deep kiss, taming the beast even though he had not before known that that was even possible to do. He had to try, had to fuck her to completion, ever increasingly aware of the fact that his hard length of stallion-meat was bare with nothing of a condom. There was a high risk of impregnation, both being hoofed creatures, but it would have taken a far stronger stallion than Devon himself to care about something like that, too caught up in the moment itself to even consider the negative consequences of it. And everyone knew how thickly virile stallions were.

Her pussy clenched down around him in a pulsating ripple, erratic in its carnal nature, and she howled out her orgasm, pumping and milking him on to a high that could never have been denied. She bucked and ground up against him as if there was nothing else left in the world for her, horns cracking against the stone walls, blankets a rumpled mess, her juices slickening down the length of his cock as she milked him and milked him. Even then, there was nothing that Devon could do but deliver unto her all that she needed as he ground his teeth together, sealing his lust down into a deep-throated groan, spending his need deep inside her tight cunt.

Rope after rope of virile stallion seed, so very potent, flooded her and, if she had been more with her sense, the minotaur would have wondered if it was ever going to stop, pouring into her, even bloating up her stomach a little with the sheer volume of it. His huge, swinging nuts had a lot to give and the nature of a stallion was to pump out all that he could, uncaring for the physicality of his partner when a moment clawed its way up that vehemently.

He had to have it, have to give his all, snorting and grunting like a feral creature himself, lost to lust as heavily bore down on her, though her body was more than sturdy enough to take his weight and then some. His chest shuddered and heaved but contentment was quick to flood him too, leaving his cock buried all the way up to the hilt of his sheath inside her as the minotaur moaned and lay back, her horns tipped away from him in what he hoped, at least a little, was a show of submission. He didn't know if he was quite strong enough to subdue her for a second time.

But there was something about her, her brown fur and fiery-red hair that tugged at his heart, softening just a little as he brushed it back from her face.

She should be my wife...

And he'd learned well enough in very recent times that sometimes the craziest ideas were the ones that came to the sweetest fruition.

At least, the stallion hoped so as he took the minotaur's paw in his own.