A Minotaur's Loins (Original) (Patreon)

Poll Winner

Themes: Rough Sex, Mind Break, Breeding

Summary: Based on this image. A Minotaur Gladiator, undefeated in the arena, finishes his latest fight. In the aftermath, he's escorted to a room where a Noble woman is waiting for him. He's informed that his services have been purchased, and that like the beastly stud he is, he's to breed her silly. Of course, he IS twice her size...  

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As a massive battle-axe clashes with a greatsword, the crowd watching roars its approval, people jumping out of their seats, cheering and throwing their hands into the air. But neither of the beings wielding said weapons pay them any mind. Each is far more focused on one another, eyes glaring past their locked blades, nostrils flaring.

Their feet crunch and push against the ever-shifting sand that they stand in, and even as they dig in, their muscles bulge obscenely, showing just how much each of them is putting into things. One is a Minotaur, but the other is Half-Giant, leaving them of similar shape and size and twice the height and width of any of the normal humans watching them, even if the latter is certainly more human-like than the former.

They wear loincloths and some pieces of armor, but nothing that would protect them entirely. A single piece of armor rests on one shoulder apiece, and a belt of chain mail is slide around their midsections to protect their guts. However, their muscular chests are completely exposed, and all it would take was one particularly powerful blow to cut either of them down.

Such a blow hasn’t happened yet, but that doesn’t mean there haven’t been other blows. All around the pair lay the bodies of other gladiators, each and every one of them felled by a weapon that either rests in the hands of the two remaining standing, or lays on the battlefield, discarded by its dead wielder. This particular Battle Royale has been going on for some time now, and even though there were attempts by the lesser competitors to team up and take down both of the shoe-ins for this victory, in the end it’d still come down to the two of them, Minotaur and Half-Giant, covered in sweat and grime, cuts and bruises… and still going strong.

Or perhaps not. The Half-Giant lets out a grunt, and his foot slips back half a step quite suddenly as their stalemate breaks. Sensing weakness, the Minotaur doesn’t hesitate to take advantage of it. He pulls back his battle axe, side steps the clumsy slash from the Great Sword that follows and brings the massive bloody blade of his weapon down on the Half-Giant’s head. It splits like a watermelon, and there’s a moment of silent as he kicks the gladiator in the chest and drags the battle axe back out of his skull.

For a moment, the Half-Giant stumbles back, his body not quite catching up with the fact that he’s dead yet. Then, he slumps to his knees and falls forward, his face and his skull in ruins. The Minotaur Gladiator snorts and snarls, and with a roar, he thrusts his battle axe over his head, turning in a circle to glare at the crowd.

The silence breaks, and the responding roar is near-deafening as both cheers and the sounds of despair fill the stadium. There’s a lot more cheering then there is anguish though, because really, if you were willing to risk it all in voting against the Minotaur Gladiator known simply as Thickfury, you were an idiot. This was not his first win, and it would not be his last.

As the crowd continues to go wild and Thickfury soaks in their adoration and adulation, a small side gate opens up, and a normal-sized man in robes walks out, smiling and waving as if the people in the stadium might be paying him any mind at all, rather than the bloodied but altogether victorious Minotaur standing in the middle of the ring.

Of course, when he speaks, his voice is amplified a dozen times over, leaving his words reverberating throughout the stadium, even louder than the combined volume of the hundreds of people watching the match.

“Ladies and Gentlepeople… and all you other scum of the earth! Give it up for our reigning Champion, THICKFURY!”

Another cheer, even louder if that can be believed. Meanwhile, Thickfury just snorts and lowers his battle axe, watching the man silently with beady eyes. His owner, the Arena Mage Pharallus, glances back at him and gives a sharp smile and a wink before continuing.

“Yes, yes. That was quite the show, wasn’t it? And once more, Thickfury rises to the challenge! WAS HIS VICTORY EVERY IN QUESTION?!”

A resounding ‘NO!’ sounds from the crowd.

“No, it was not. Now then, I hope you all enjoyed watching our Champion do what he does best, because it’s time for the night to end!”

There’s some disappointed cries at that, like they expect to stick around and watch the Minotaur fight until he finally drops, despite the fact that they’ve all been sitting in the beating sun for four hours as it is. But then, for much of the crowd, this is the most entertaining thing they will ever see, and having it come to an end means a return to reality, and their shitty lives. Regardless, it’s not up for debate.

“I know, I know! But not to worry, there’ll be a show next week as well, and all the new fodd- I mean CONTENDORS will see if they can bring down our CHAMPION! Will next week be when Thickfury finally falls?! WE. SHALL. SEE!”

And with that, Pharallus claps his hands together, and both he and Thickfury disappear from the battlefield together, teleporting into one of the back-areas of the arena. As soon as they’ve landed, Pharallus is snapping his fingers and walking away.

“Come.”

That’s all he says, but in the end, that’s all he really has to say. The Minotaur might not like it, but this is his lot in life, to be owned by this man, to be forced to fight day in and day out for the amusement of others. He was a Gladiator, and his fate was to eventually die in battle. Truth be told, not a terrible fate, he only wished that he was the one who decided just who it was he killed.

If he were free, the only thing the Minotaur would really change about his current lifestyle was that he would travel a lot more, seeking out challenges, rather than being forced to fight these pathetic weaklings who almost never gave him a good fight. That Half-Giant was the best he’d seen in a long while, and even he had relied more on his sheer size and brute strength, both things that Thickfury also had in spades, but that did not truly make up all that he was as a Champion.

He doesn’t have much time to contemplate these things though, because Pharallus shows him into another room and Thickfury finds himself walking into decadence and opulence of the highest quality. Along one wall is a massive viewing screen, the kind of scrying spell that required either a high level of enchantment or a high level of mage to properly pull off. It shows the now emptying stadium, and the arena that he’d just fought in these last few hours.

Within the room itself awaits only one being, a woman who is very clearly of nobility, based on the quality of her garments, and the fact that she’s lounging back, eating grapes and drinking wine. She is not the first guest that Pharallus has had here though, and he doubts she will be the last. She undoubtedly paid quite a lot to be able to view him working his craft in private though.

“What did I tell you? Is he not the best?”

“… Indeed, he is. I suppose I would have settled for the Half-Giant too if he’d won, but I must admit, it is the Minotaur that excites me. I am glad he was victorious once more.”

“Quite! So then… now that we’re all here, there is the matter of the final payment.”

Thickfury watches as the noblewoman pulls a small scroll out of her bosom and hands it over to Pharallus. It’s a mark of just how greedy the Arena Mage is that he doesn’t even leer at the woman, instead leering at the scroll as he unfurls it and reads it contents quickly.

“Perfect. All is in order than.”

Whipping around to look up at Thickfury, the man points at him.

“You! You are not to leave this room until I come back for you. You are to obey this one’s every order to the letter for as long as you are here, so long as they do not countermand my own or force you to harm yourself. Do you understand?”

The Minotaur grunts and nods, showing that he does. Pharallus clearly doesn’t need much more than that, because with a wicked smile, the mage exits through the door at the other side of the room, leaving them alone together. Thickfury turns to the noblewoman, only to find her standing up… and stripping down?

He watches in some mild confusion, but also certainly arousal as the gorgeous blonde beauty exposes herself to him, pulling off her expensive robes and beautiful dress and revealing her naked form to his eyes. She gives him no order to look away, so he stares, feasting on the view for as long as he is allowed. And yet, the command to avert his gaze never comes. Instead, the noblewoman steps ever closer, licking her lips as her eyes slide up and down his form. Now that she’s closing the distance, Thickfury can see a glistening layer of oil has been spread across her entire body, every last inch of it, in fact. She is covered in a sheen of fluid, and it accentuates her already gorgeous form.

“Show me.”

Her voice, when she finally does give him a command, is husky and aroused. For a moment, Thickfury isn’t sure what she wants… but regardless of how some might treat him and how some might view him, the Minotaur is not a simpleton. He catches on when her eyes flicker down to his loincloth, which is already beginning to tent. Grunting, the Gladiator Champion tosses aside his battle axe, the bloodied weapon clattering to the floor and yet not so much as prompting a flinch from the noblewoman. Then, he loses his shoulder armor and the chainmail best, before finally pulling off his loincloth, exposing his true size to the naked female before her.

He longs to reach out and grab her, especially as she draws even closer, now only a step or two away. But he knows better, especially now that she’s standing before him, and the difference in their size is so obvious. The noblewoman clearly wants nothing more than to play around. Perhaps she will abuse him or attempt to emasculate him.

That will certainly test the limits of his self-control, and Thickfury finds himself stiffening as she reaches out and grabs hold of his cock. However, she does not try to squeeze or crush it in her small, dainty hands. If anything, she seems in awe of it, bringing it up to her face… and nuzzling it? The Minotaur’s nostrils flare, even as his length grows harder still under her ministrations.

“This… this is it. This is the perfect cock. Oh, how I’ve longed to find something like this among the free men of this city. But no, I should have known better. I wanted brutality… so I had to come to the most brutal place in town.”

Looking up at him, the blonde noblewoman has a massive, perverted grin on her face. She reaches out and splays her fingers across his muscular stomach, running her fingers over the ridges of his well-defined abs. She can’t quite reach his chest, not from the ground.

“Fuck me, Champion.”

For a moment, he doesn’t comprehend what she’s said. It’s so far out of what he considered the realm of possibility that Thickfury stares blankly down at her, rather than following her order. She growls at this, and curls her hand into a fist, before beating it against his abs to no physical effect.

“I said FUCK me! You stupid beast, Pharallus assured me you spoke common! Take this big fat cock of yours and STUFF IT IN- me?”

He finally moves as she’s ranting and raving, and with ease, he scoops the noblewoman up with one hand. If that’s what she wants, fine… Pharallus will know that he was merely obeying an order. Bringing her up into the air, Thickfury snorts expressively, hot air blowing all over her face. She sputters, but before she can say anything else, he’s using his other hand to spread her legs apart… and dropping her right down on his cock.

No ceremony, no foreplay, no hesitation. She wanted him to fuck her? Fine, he’d fuck her. With a snarl, Thickfury fills the noblewoman with his massive meaty length and then some, pumping up into her right from the start, giving her no chance to say another word, or give another order. Truthfully, he expects to kill her in those first few moments. Not necessarily because he wants to, but because he can’t imagine how she’s meant to survive a cock bigger than one of her arms.

However, not only does the noblewoman survive his thrusts, as he uses her like some sort of sword-sheath for his meaty ‘blade’, she THRIVES. After the first few dozen thrusts, she even recovers enough to speak, much to Thickfury’s surprise.

“Yes… YES! JUST LIKE THAT, YOU MONSTER! FUCK ME! FUCK ME HARDER! BREED ME, YOU BEAST! CUM INSIDE OF ME AND FILL ME WITH YOUR SEED!”

Compelled to follow her orders, he proceeds to do just that. Fucking her harder is no problem, but he can’t help but be surprised when she STILL does not break. Her body much be magically reinforced, or perhaps the oil that he can still see glistening across her skin is giving her some sort of protection. She’s certainly more elastic than most of the women he’s ever been with, and though her body stretches around his shaft, it never tears, it never rips.

He fucks her, and she screams her pleasure to the high heavens, climaxing time and time again around his member. But that doesn’t stop Thickfury. Still, she did give him the order to cum inside of her, and while he doesn’t immediately follow it, eventually his release arrives, and the Minotaur Gladiator pumps the noblewoman full of his ejaculation, coating her womb and cunt walls in his white, hot, sticky seed.

“… More… break me, you beast… give me more…”

Thickfury’s beady eyes widen slightly and his nostrils flare as the noblewoman claws at his broad chest, still able to murmur, even after all that. Still, he doesn’t know how long she’s paid for his services for, but until told otherwise, he is to obey her. So, that’s exactly what Thickfury does. He continues fucking the noblewoman with his massive cock, continues using her as his cock-sheathe, and continues filling her womb with more and more of his seed until she’s bloated to the breaking point with his cum.

Her body never does quite break, at least not in the physical tearing or ripping sense. But her mind? By the time Pharallus comes to collect him, the noblewoman is a mewling puddle of cum on the floor before him, no longer capable of coherent or intelligible though, completely and utterly destroyed by his massive Minotaur prick. There’s no doubt that she got what she wanted though. With the amount of cum flowing out of her and the amount of cum still inside of her… she’s almost certainly pregnant.

The thought leaves Thickfury feeling rather… odd, as he follows Pharallus out of the room and back to his pen. The knowledge that he will have offspring, and that that child will be the son or daughter of a noblewoman… it makes him think about things he’s never considered before, things beyond fighting and killing and eventually dying covered in glory.

He’s not sure what to do about it though, not sure what comes next. This is new territory for the Minotaur Gladiator, that’s for sure.