Chapter 4
Cassie
Two days later
I still can’t believe it.
They actually matched me with the grey bull, Brutus.
I was half hoping they’d email back saying, sorry, thank you so much for your interest, unfortunately you’re not a match.
And I was half desperate for it to be him. The other studs seem nice. Handsome. Good genes. Everything I was looking for on paper.
Maybe it’s that I saw Brutus first. But I just… can’t imagine it being anyone other than him.
He looks so… so kind. Like I could… melt into his arms. Even though that’s totally inappropriate and not part of this breeding program thing at all.
So when I got the email back, saying we’d matched…
I was equally ecstatic and terrified. I booked the earliest available appointment and called out sick from work until then, because I am a fucking mess. A completely dysfunctional bundle of nerves.
I’ve practically been living at Rachel’s house, binging reality TV on her couch, trying to dissociate until it’s time.
I’ve done a lot of research. Too much research. Only minotaur pairs produce minotaur children; minotaur males and human females always produce human children. Those children tend to be exceptionally healthy and strong and can go on to have children of their own.
I refuse to get my hopes up, but… at least I’m not doing something ridiculously irresponsible.
It’s finally the day. I wake up too early and make breakfast for Rachel as a thank you.
She digs into the omelette, shoveling it down so she can get out of the door in time for work.
As she pauses by the front door, I’m kind of freaking out.
Rachel grabs my shoulders and says, “Cassie. Breathe. You’re going to do great.”
“But what do I do for the next six hours?!” My heart is going to vibrate out of my chest.
“Do you want my totally unfiltered advice?”
“Yes. Obviously.”
“Watch porn. A lot of porn. You need to be lubricated. That cock is huge.”
My cheeks warm, but I nod. “Yeah. Okay. That makes sense. Thank you, Rach.”
She turns to go, then hesitates. “Just… maybe don’t masturbate on my couch.”
I look at her in horror. “Rachel!”
“The bathroom is fair game, though.”
“We are not having this conversation.”
Rachel laughs and squeezes me in a tight hug. “Deep breaths, Cassie. It’s gonna be fine.”
“What if it goes horribly wrong?”
“We’ll split another bottle of wine.”
I take a deep breath. “Yeah. Okay.”
Then Rachel is gone, and I’m left with an empty house.
I distract myself for half the day, and when I physically can’t convince myself to stop thinking about what I’ll be doing later today… I take Rachel’s advice and start watching porn.
It works well. A little too well.
Hours later, I squirm and rub my thighs together. My panties are soaked, but I refuse to masturbate in my friend’s home, bathroom or no.
Besides, it’s probably better if I’m… eager to get started, right?
During my porn binge, I followed the rabbit hole and found a minotaur and human couple publishing amateur porn. They have all sorts of videos themed around, well, taking massive minotaur dick.
I knew minotaur cocks were huge, but that’s basically all I knew. I wasn’t expecting them to have such a… specific shape.
The woman takes her time running her hands up and down her partner’s impressive length. When she wraps both hands around it, her fingers barely overlap. His shaft is long and cylindrical with a blunt end. The circular edge flares out and throbs, mesmerizing, as the woman strokes.
When she teases him with a ruined orgasm, that flare reaches a truly impressive circumference. Based on their dirty talk, the biological purpose is to create a firm seal in the vagina, making sure his cum surges deep.
I swear I can feel my ovaries twinge in anticipation.
Halfway down his cock, there’s a thick ridge she calls his ‘medial ring.’ She pays the ring special attention before straddling him and lining that blunt, flared head up with her entrance. It’s wider than her fist.
Talk about zero to a hundred.
The minotaur’s deep voice fills my headphones. “That’s right, princess. Take Daddy’s cock.”
“It’s so big!” the woman gasps as she sinks down, even though I’ve seen the entire thing disappear into her in every video. Somehow. I’ve decided to not question the physics.
“Deep breath, princess…” He thrusts, burying another six inches in her. “That’s it, take it like a good girl…”
I don’t think the daddy talk would be my thing under normal circumstances, but I’m so horny right now, it doesn’t matter. Every time I see the minotaur’s massive cock disappear into her pussy, my own pussy throbs.
I was a size queen back in college. One of my boyfriends had a dick as thick as a soda can, swear on a Bible. Maybe this isn’t the most insane idea.
My inner muscles clench, and tingling pleasure spreads from them. I whimper quietly, arousal starting to tempt me toward the bathroom.
A shrill ring scares the crap out of me as my phone vibrates in my hand and ALARM: GET YOUR BUTT OUT THE DOOR flashes across the screen.
“Shit. Fuck!” I need to get on the road and I am… so horny I can’t see straight. I dash into the kitchen and chug a glass of ice water, then hurry to my car and hope for the best.
Getting out of the city is… a little dicey. I get honked at more than once. But I manage to get onto the open highway without incident, and it’s not long before I pull onto the gravel road indicated by my GPS.
A hand-painted sign reading Welcome to Honeysuckle Farm assures me that I’ve taken the right turn, even though all I can see is the dense woods surrounding me.
After a few bends, a complex of cheery red barns emerges. They look totally convincing from this distance, like a low-tech livestock operation, but according to my research, the facades hide a mix of modern amenities and farm-themed stalls for various performances and experiences.
The email I received was very thorough, and I open it again. A map shows the complex with my destination circled, along with written directions.
I drive further into the parking lot, past the barns that are used for public tours.
The breeding barn is tucked at the end in order to give discretion to its clients.
I appreciate it as I park in the furthest spot.
The dense patch of summer greenery feels like a safe wall to my mammal brain, something I can tuck up against as I get my bearings.
I check the clock: twenty minutes early.
Classic Cassie. It would be embarrassing and overeager to go in at this point. I don’t really want to kill twenty minutes in a waiting room if I can help it.
So, I set a timer for fifteen minutes and take a deep breath.
Most of that amateur couple’s videos are ten minutes long, so…
I bite my lip as my heart thumps with thrill, then I pull out my phone and start the next video.
By the time my timer goes off, I’m beyond hot and bothered again.
I quickly pull myself together and step out of my car—then wobble and catch myself against the hood. Fuck, I’m dizzy. Guess my blood is… not in my brain.
With the air of someone four drinks deep pretending to be sober, I straighten my spine and stride up to the door marked on the map in my email. A scanner waits for the barcode I was sent, and with a quiet beep the door opens.
I step into a cheery room that looks more like the living room of a home renovation show featuring farmhouse chic than the waiting room for a… sperm donation clinic. A few women sit on the cushy, trendy chairs, flipping through magazines or scrolling on their phones.
There’s a beautiful antique desk with distressed cream paint by the door, and a chickadee harpy looks up and gives me a friendly wave.
Her white and black feathers resemble a pixie cut, and her wide smile reveals her slightly pointed teeth.
Below the desk, she uncrosses her clawed, bird-like feet and leans towards me.
“Cassie, right?” she asks in a musical voice.
“Y-yeah, good guess.”
“Oh, I didn’t guess. This syncs with the scanner.” She taps the laptop sitting on the desk next to her. “Here are your forms for today.” She hands me a tablet open to paperwork that already bears my name.
“Wow, this is slick…”
“Isn’t it?” She wiggles happily, then blushes. “Sorry, I’m new. Still geeking out.”
My shoulders relax. “I’m new too, so to be honest, that makes me feel a bit better.”
Her smile is like sunshine. “I’m so glad! Just let me know if I can help with anything. There’s coffee and tea right there, so please feel free to help yourself!” She gestures at a wet bar with a single-serve coffee maker and a cute little stand full of premium tea bags.
“Will do.” I take the tablet to a chair, carefully read the contract since I’m obsessive that way, sign it, and return the tablet to the harpy.
Then I head over to the tea station, just to have something to do. There are almost too many options…
I get lost reading them all.
“Cassie? We’re ready for you.” A darling water nymph with cool blue skin and sapphire hair leans out from behind a rustic wooden door. She wears a pink gingham dress with a matching bow.
My nerves settle a little. It’s hard to be anxious around someone so adorable.
She holds the door open for me, then leads me through a hallway with beige toile wallpaper.
As I take a closer look at the little farmhouse scenes, I realize they’re all sexual: a centaur fucking a woman from behind, a lazy satyr orgy, a woman draped across a minotaur.
“Here’s the changing room,” the nymph says, leading me in. It’s like a spa locker room, with a makeup counter on one side and a wall of cubbies on the other.
The nymph hands me a fresh robe from a nearby wardrobe. “Once you change into this, I’ll take you to your room. I’ll just be outside; come out whenever you’re ready. No rush.”
“Great, thank you.” I nod, but as soon as the door is shut, I rush. I don’t know what else to do with all this nervous energy.
Soon, my clothes and shoes are piled in a cubby, and I wear the plush robe and terry cloth slippers.
I step back out, and the nymph leads me further down the hallway.
“This is your room.” She pulls open the door.
Inside, it resembles a massage room—the light is dim, and the woven wallpaper features soft natural tones.
A light, pleasant scent infuses the air from the oil diffuser that sits on a vintage dresser.
Next to it is a pitcher of water, a tidy stack of folded washcloths, and a bottle so fancy and high-end that I don’t initially recognize it as lube.
The major difference is that instead of a massage bed in the middle of the room, there’s a padded bench. A breeding bench. And on the far side, there’s a second door.
So, I’ll be greeting him pussy first. That’s probably for the best. Avoids any awkward pleasantries. Lord knows I’ve met plenty of doctors with my feet up in stirrups, cunt out.
“You can hang your robe on the hook here. If you need help preparing, there are materials in the drawers. Help yourself to anything, and it’s yours to keep!
When you’re ready, press the button here.
” She points to a green button embedded in the front of the bench’s armrest. “When you’re done, your stud will leave first. I’ll give you a few minutes to rest, then check on you.
Whenever you’re ready, I’ll take you to the shower room. ”
The shower room. Right. Things get messy, I bet… I stuff my hands into the robe’s pockets to keep them from shaking. “Sounds good.”
“There’s a call button right here—” She points next to the door. “—and right here.” There’s an orange button on the opposite armrest from the green one. “Just ring if you need anything at all. Any questions?”
I shake my head. “No, I appreciate how thorough everything’s been.”
“Alright. I’ll leave you to it. Enjoy!” The nymph gives a wave and pulls the door shut.
And just like that, I’m alone.
Curious—and not quite eager to get naked yet—I pull open the top drawer. It’s like a portal to a cute, feminine sex boutique. All sorts of lubes and ointments line one side, and a variety of new-in-box vibrators in gold and pastel shades fill the other.
Alright. Good to know.
The second drawer down holds tidy stacks of glossy magazines. Playbull catches my eye. A fully erect minotaur flexes on the cover. Fuck, his cock is huge. Thick veins line the cylindrical length, from the sheath at his base, past that medial ring, and to the flared, blunt tip.
I don’t know how that’s going to fit inside me, but the idea sends heat pulsing through my cunt again.
I’m not going to need much prep time. If any. Still… I roll up the magazine and tuck it into the pocket of my bathrobe.
Well…. Nothing left to do but get naked. I slip the robe off my shoulders and hang it by the door.
I approach the breeding bench. It looks a little intimidating, but it’s really not complicated.
I clamber on from the back, and the widest part of the bench supports my belly, chest, and head.
Lower portions on each side support my bent arms and legs, so I’m held comfortably in the position my yoga instructor calls ‘tabletop.’
As I settle onto the bench, my back arches instinctively. My pussy clenches, aching with emptiness.
It’s a good thing I frothed myself up to beyond horny because I’m not sure I’d have the courage to push the green button otherwise.
But I did, so I do.