Let's meet... McDunkin? What kind of name...

"Well gee!" his obnoxiously high-pitched voice squawked. "Not often I get visitors all the way out here! Come on in! D'you want some coftea?" The old hermit had a giant nose and a white beard that looked like it had never even heard of grooming, much less experienced it. To be fair, the same could be said of the...man?--behind the beard. His coveralls were filthy and tattered, and if there had ever been a shirt beneath them it was long gone. Instead, his arms were dressed in a layer of grime that you would rather not try to identify.

"No thank you," Huny quickly answered as your party followed the...man inside.

"Coftea?" you whisper to her.

"Don't ask. And definitely don't taste."

"Well, suit yerselves!" The...man dipped a mug into a wooden bucket on his hearth. Whatever it was, it was nearly black and oozed like turpentine. He licked all of it off the outside of them mug, then proceeded to chug its contents without a pause. The notion that this thing was a human was growing more and more distant; calling it a man, even mentally, was becoming a strain.

"So, Mr. McDunkin. Have any work we can help you with? Maybe gathering resources for one of those projects you're always working on?" Huny's leading question was obviously an attempt to get to the end of the conversation. The hermit didn't seem to notice. On the one hand, that means he isn't offended; on the other, the conversation isn't moving quickly.

"Eh? My projects? Oh! That's right! I'm working on a doozy of a project right now! I'll bet the mine that it's gonna come out good this time! Say. Maybe you young'uns could help me out on it. I got a mighty fine bull corralled out back; part o' the big work, see? The boy needs a whole lotta 'ttention now, though. Maybe if some strong whelps like yerselves were willing? If you can gather up a score o' Hay Bushels to feed the boy, that'd help me keep the project going for another week! Every twenty you bring back, I'll give ya a reward."

"Great! We'll be back soon!" Huny jumps up and races for the door. The others follow, and you stand to go as well; then a firm hand catches your wrist. You look back to see the hermit has latched onto you.

"Missy, I almost forgot to say. It's about time for the boy's groomin'! Would you be fine helpin' out with that? The stubborn codger don't like my old hands rubbing his hide."

Huny turns back and gives the pair of you a quizzical look. Is this the first time she's heard of this kind of request from the hermit? Her eyes meet yours. You smile. "It's fine, you guys gather the hay. I'm pretty good with my hands, after all. Right?"

Huny turns a little red, but she nods and leads the others out. As the door clicks shut behind them, you turn to see what your new employer would have you do.

His coveralls hit the ground with a heavy thump. Cloth should not make that sound. More importantly, the most filthy cock you never imagined you would see is staring at you.

"That doesn't look like a bull," you say.

"Not even a step back? Damn, demon girls really are made of sterner stuff." That nasally squawk he'd been using has mysteriously faded. It's still there, but not half as prominent as it had been earlier. "What's a named monster doing with a couple o' heroes, anyway? If ye don't mind me askin'."

"Just sorta fell in together, I guess. Karen's new, but for Huny I fell in love with watching her ass wiggle."

"Well, hope yer not gonna tell me anything about 'one true love' or shit."

"No, but there's no way I'm sucking on that until it's had a proper bath."

"Eh? Oh, no. Relax. I ain't lookin' fer that, and a bath would ruin the crazy hermit look I've built up. I just wanted to test if you'd be up for this."

"On a guess... You're going to have me satisfy some of the bull's other desires?" Yes, you're a succubus; but fucking an animal just sounds...

"Bull? No, no, no. It ain't some mindless cow, girl. I got me a Minotaur in the cellar."

Your eyes grow wide. "Seriously?"