Drunken oaf: player lost fight (M/M & M/F) (Patreon)

You thrash and kick, swing and yelp, but nothing happens. There is still a huge hand seizing the collar of your clothes, belonging to a man-bull so big, he could be mistaken as a small house. After all, his fur is as grey as rocks and just as sturdy. In his other hand, he still has a big frothy mug of ale that gets sipped parsimoniously. 

“La-li-loh, I got an’ nice lil’ ho…” Half drunk he mutters away walking deeper into the alley, the scene of your fight. His jovial attitude makes clear that he isn’t afraid of anything besides spilling his drink, because after all, who would mess with a pile of muscles on hooved feet? Even though his hat hides his eyes, the way somehow seems clear to him and soon your vision is shrouded, the surrounding walls rising ever more, quenching the sun.

With a mighty swing your body is flung like a ragdoll to bounce on the dirty floor of the alley, falling near the barrels used to gather trash. The smell of waste is strong enough to pierce the stench of the man-bull. Cold bites your limbs and your battered body can only move through the sheer force of will. But there isn’t much to do as the behemoth steps closer, tail swishing over his buttocks clad in dark shorts made of battered fabric.

And the worst thing about it, is that smug and crooked grin that glistens from his salivating, missing teeth and everything. Every word that spews from his mouth carries droplets of beer and drool, raining against his rotund body and the ground.

“Now my lil hoh… leht’s play a lil’ game, shall we?” A thick hand covered in grey fur, with hoove-tipped fingers caress his enormous beer gullet, moving down his ragged red shirt till he reaches the bulge of his trousers.

Oh no… things are quickly going from bad and horrid. You struggle to stand up, but only succeed in placing your hands in the dirt, pushing your torso upwards. Unwantedly, this only makes the situation worse as the beast assumes with his pea-brain that you’re into playing by his rules.

“Ahh, getting ‘in da mood eh? I knew ye were a lil bitchy hoh when I saw you walk…” And with that, the first button comes off, a tush of pubic fur spilling out like a wave reverberating against the rocks straining the button below. Two more steps from the gargantuan beast, and you look to area behind him, in hoping to find someone, or anyone really, in hope of help. There’s none, not a voice or a sound besides the grunting from the boozing bull... The second button comes off and the first glance of a thick length comes to view, showing that you’re in more trouble than expected. It’s thick, it’s the thickness of a fist and it’s black as the metaphorical hole you’ve somehow ended up in. You beg to any gods that might be listening that if things come down to it, this guy better be a hardener instead of a grower. His pants are unbuttoned and the thick bovine length already rests over his furry balls with a strand of pre that drools wetly upon the pavement.

“This is the rules… You suck, I drink. If I blow a gank before finishing mah beer, you’re free. If not, am going to finish in your ass… And with mah large mouth, I can drink a lot very fast.” And he gives another malicious chuckle. You’re too weak to even run. How are you supposed to suck him off fast enough?

The answer comes as soon the mug’s tip touches his lips, desperation filling your mind and body with such intensity that, before you know it, you lurched forward with a desperate display of vigor and seized his gigantic thing by the base. Your nose bumps his leaking tip by mistake, a moment being wasted in wondering if this is how you’ll meet your maker, because that thing is fucking thick! You guide it onto your lips, one hand grabbing the middle of his beastly length, the other seizing the bulbous grey cockhead, and slips the tip in. Eye widening in panic as you’re realizing the difficulty to even accommodate just that... Your jaw is gonna be really sore tomorrow…

He laughs, meaning that he pulls his head back from his beverage, but on the other hand, the cold splatter over your back means that he spilled some of the beer. “Ey, ey, calm down! Ah wanna feel it!” And that gigantic hand seizes the back of your head and push you forward against his dick. With a wince and a groan, that thing stretches your maw to the limit, pushing past your teeth and resting against your tongue, tasting the salty flavor spill over it. With another fiery groan, you thrust your head forth, suckling the trunk at the best of your ability, tongue rolling frantically over it’s underside, rubbing the thick skin of his man-meat, as your hands grasps its sides to pump it back and forth vigorously.

But it’s not enough, as you hear a loud gulp coming from above while his hand relaxes his grip on your head. You must do more if you don’t want your ass as stretched as your maw! One of your hands tremble as it dares to go in uncharted territories, seizing the bull by his balls, fondling the enormous orbs as gently as you can considering your dread and haste. Inch after inch you pull your head back, letting the now glistening cocktip pop out with a wet cork-like sound, it bobs up and down while you put your tongue to work, licking its underside, the left, the right, the center, and the top. You feel him shudder for your efforts, his grip on your head tightens, and a relieved groan comes to your ears.

“Yehhh… just like a good whore…” The time spent talking isn’t spent drinking, and you hurry up with your ministrations. A strong grip of your hand along his cock pumps it from the base to the head, as if coaxing his thick semen out while, once more, his hand pushes your head forth, forcing your maw into accepting his monstrous slab of meat. But this time, he doesn’t stop just with the tip. The length slips on and on, inch after inch that invades your mouth and rams against your throat. Luckily he doesn’t push further than that, focusing in giving a hearty and audible gulp of his beer, but the message is clear: Hurry the fuck up.

With a lot of effort you pull back and forth, knowing that deep-throating that monster would only result in the most embarrassing end to an adventurer ever. You slurp and lick, even nibbling if possible, being rewarded with an equally thick gush of man-bull-milk. Not an orgasm, just a taste of what’s to come. Hands caressing the sides of his length, as if smearing it in oil, kneading it like dough in an attempt to guide him to the edge.

“Ahhh, hurry up, hoh, am just finishing mah drink… actually, you know whut?”

The gush is sudden and your entire body freezes, if you had any ideas about biting his junk in order to escape while he was hunched over, they are flung through the proverbial window as you clench your teeth by a sudden cold  wetness, yet he doesn’t flinch. Your back and clothes are now completely soaked in what remained of his beer, as he nonchalantly tosses the mug to the side.

“Ah changed mah mind…”

And both his hands grab your head like a melon, your eyes watering as you look up to that twisted grin full of holes and leftover drink. Not a word is voiced as he remorselessly thrusts your head back and forth onto his length as if he was in a glory hole. You try to breath through your nostrils, but the brutal movements takes the air out of your lungs, tears rolling down your cheeks as you gag over and over. His length hits the back of your throat hard like a punch, and your squirms and slap at his thighs in vain. He just won’t stop...

“Dis is a true mouthwork hoh, not that… hmf… sloppy johb…”

And out of nowhere, his body makes a single, simple shiver, and a torrent of sticky bull batter pours through your throat into your stomach, directly. You nearly choke on it, coughing and shivering while you trash and hit at his sides, but his torrent just flows. Laughing loud and hard in the middle of his bliss, the man-bull pulls your head out, inch after inch while goo pours from your lips, splattering the ground and smudging your face and (MALE: torso FEMALE: Tits) the moment his cockhead pulls out of your mouth with another loud, wet noise. Your body falls flat on the floor, with cum still dripping from his meat over your back, as the drunken beast arches his back and gives a light coo. To add insult to injury, he leans down, picking your sleeve to clean up the tip of his cock, before backing down, buttoning his trousers, and turning back, stumbling into the the unknown. You can hear his drunken singing, proclaiming how he has a new ‘favorite hoh’.

“Bye bye darling! You know where to find meh. Ah hope next time… hgmmr… you learn to suck bettah.”

You lay there, humiliated, coated in semen and with a really, really achy jaw, thinking on what to do next time a drunken man-bull comes after you. After a while, you regain enough strength to sit up, cowering behind some barrels, lest someone else sees you in that miserable state. Resting long enough for you to stand up, you go somewhere else to clean up from that disgusting mess.