The Minotaur (Consensual/Harem)

The sound of the drums wakes you, slowly you pull yourself up out of the nest of animal skins and hay you have made for yourself in the back of the cave. The night sky is clear and full of stars as you walk out and look down at the bonfire burning in the center of the valley.

Your home is positioned about halfway up the side of a forest covered mountain. The only clearing nearby is the one created by the local humans a decade or so ago. It is there that the fire burns and the drums beat.

When you first came here you had avoided contact with humans for as long as you could, for nearly a year you stayed out of sight. Eventually however someone spotted you and you were unable to catch and kill them. You have been around for long enough to know that humans always react the same when one of your kind move into the area. They either send in a few men with metal skins to root you out or come in a horde to burn you out.

So you were surprised when instead of either of those things you had begun to find neat piles of food and animal skins left in the forest. It took you some time to realise that they had left that stuff out for you.

Eventually they had created the clearing and the fires and drums had begun. At first you had watched from afar as they banged the drums and danced, when all was said and done a pile of tribute would be left in the clearing for you.

Eventually you had gotten up the nerve to enter the clearing during these rituals, they had showered you in food and gifts. So it had been for years now, you still expect that one day they will come for you as they always have before but you are fine with enjoying it whilst it lasted.

You are old for a Minotaur, most of your kind don’t live half as long as you do, either being killed by humans, other Minotaurs or some other mythical creature. You came from the northern climbs of the world decades ago, surviving there the same way that many of our brethern had, eating, fighting and fucking. You recall the early days, moving from place to place, grabbing female when you could. You are sure you sired at least a few children along the way but you never hung around to find out. Always the humans were on you, hunting you down.

When you finally found a region you thought you could stay in they had sent small bands of hunters after you. Dressed in metal and with bags of tricks. The first few groups had underestimated you, you recall with pleasure finding a woman among them, you had enjoyed taking her when her friends were dead.

In the end they had hit you enough times that you had to flee, running south with a network of scars to remind you why you ran.

You had not stopped running for a long time, not until you landed up here.

Although you don’t know it you are old for a Minotaur and that is part of why you feel less of an overwhelming drive to breed. In younger days you would have raided the villages within weeks for females. Instead you were happy to stay out of the way of the humans.

As you come up on the edge of the clearing you reflect that that doesn’t mean you don’t still feel the desire, it is just not worth the pain that comes with it anymore.