Chapter Text
Meeting our “hero”:
Philip Wittebane, Human Cleric
Weapon: Dagger, (1d4) damage (Melee)
Pleasure: 0%
Mental Fortitude: 100%
State: Normal
Clothing/Armour: 2/2 (Adventurer Shirt and Trousers)
Traits: Hair Trigger (for first encounter only). “This character has never had sex before. c*ms at every 50% pleasure instead of the typical 100%.”
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Philip made his way down through the forest trail. He had heard tales spun by the local witches in the town barely a day's journey from here. Tales of a beast with horns made of an incredibly rare, sturdy material. This material would be the framework of his portal door. It was said that the horns of this beast could break through the very foundation of the land and are said to be made of the same ivory that the Titan's bones used to be before the corpse fossilized. This fresh tissue, as opposed to the brittle, hard stone that had become the Titan's bones, had the unique ability to be able to snap back to its original form even if it was forced into another shape. No matter for how long or how drastic a change that was made.
A material like that would allow him to fold the portal many times over if he managed to fasten the material into the door's frame. Portability could be achieved with a material like that.
But when he had pushed for further details, the wretches had been frustratingly tight-lipped about how one would go about encountering such a creature.
Rolling for Encounter type: (1d10. 2. Enemy number dropped to the lowest possible.)
Rolling Passive Perception (70+ DC) (1d100. 64. Fail.)
Unbeknownst to the disgruntled, reluctant adventurer, a lone cultist was biding his time nearby, concealed in the shade of a large oak. He had not intended to find any suitable offerings for the enormous, bovine demon that ruled the grove that day. Especially when his companions were still recuperating from the last band of travelers that had put up enough of a fight to escape the day prior. But this lone man was smaller, weaker than the others.
Perhaps this was his chance to curry favor with the mighty beast.
COMBAT START
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Cultist 1, 4/4 HP
Roll needed to successfully Grapple Target: 60+ (Base DC )
- Small Mob Enemy
- Traits:
- (Group Mentality. If two or more of this Enemy have their turns in initiative order back to back, one Enemy can roll a 65+ DC check on its turn to activate this trait for itself and the Enemy/Enemies that come before and after it in the turn queue. If successful, the Enemies this trait activates for will attempt their Grapple Attacks at the same time, adding -5 DC for each additional enemy attempting to grapple. If the target is grappled while this trait is active, it must add +5 to DC to break free for every additional Enemy Grappling it (example: 1 Enemy grappling +0 DC, 2 Enemies grappling +5 DC, 3 Enemies grappling +10 DC))
- (Single-Minded. While grappling a target, this Enemy cannot take any actions on its turn that are not dedicated to moving the target or keeping the target still.)
- Actions:
- (Seize. When grappling a target and if a new round has begun, this Enemy can attempt a 70+ DC roll to restrain its target with rope, rendering its target immobile. -5 DC to the check for each Enemy currently Grappling the target. If successful, its target will gain the Apprehended trait and will need to make a 70+ DC roll to free itself. Enemies automatically pass a Grapple Check on an Apprehended target. The Apprehended target adds 1+ to their Clothing/Armor until the Apprehended trait is removed)
- (Deliver. This enemy will attempt to pass 30+ DC to carry its Apprehended target 10ft towards the Delivery Point during its turn. If the distance to carry takes longer than 3 rounds and the Apprehended target fails to escape within that time frame, battle will automatically skip to when the target arrives at the Delivery Point. If the target manages to free themselves before the 3-round limit is up, when they are Apprehended again, the 3-round timeframe refreshes.)
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ROUND 1
Initiative (1d20. Philip, 3. Cultist 1, 11)
Combat Order: Cultist 1, Philip.
Cultist rolls to grapple (DC 60+) (1d100. 100. Phenomenal Success.)
The Cultist immediately grapples and, because of the phenomenal roll, seizes Philip in the same turn. Add +10 DC for escaping grapple checks. Add +1 to clothes.
Philip attempts to escape being grappled (70+ DC) (1d100. 30. Fail)
Creeping towards his target, the cultist kept to the shadows, concealing the bulk of his hardly-clothed body behind a bush. What luck! The traveler was headed right toward his hiding spot. His grin widened as he realized the man had turned his back to closely examine a carved bust of the very creature that he would soon be offered to.
Seizing the opportunity, the cultist sprang out of concealment, his long fingers deftly clamping the man's wrists together behind his back with one hand. "It must be my lucky day." He panted heavily into the struggling man's ear and he pulled free the length of rope wound loosely around his waist with his free hand. "The master's rut has been insatiable. You're just what he needs."
Philip's eyes barely had time to widen before his hands were bound behind his back. He had never been immobilized so quickly in his life, and he found himself twisting his body frantically to try to get a look at the heathen that had managed to blind-sight him. In his confusion, the deranged demon behind him managed to plant a hand firmly between his shoulder blades and shove him forward, causing Philip to stumble on his own feet, wind rushing by his head as gravity pulled him, until his face smacked into the dry dirt, kicking up a small, grainy cloud that stuck to his skin and hair. His cheek smushed against the dirt, and he had to sputter to get the earth off his tongue and lips just so he could speak to the cretin behind him.
His mind had been in such disarray that he hadn't even caught the meaning behind the strange person's words. His mouth worked faster than his usually incredibly sharp mind in this instant, and he found himself letting out a torrent of swears, cursing the already accursed being's very bloodline and trying to twist his way out of his ropes. It was only once his mind deciphered the man's sentence a handful of seconds later that his protests died with a dry wheeze. He had no idea what a "rut" was supposed to be, but as he looked up, cheek still smushed to the dirt, at the small stone idle sitting atop the little pedestal, he blanched at the thought of what it was a tribute for. A rut. What was that? A demonic word for hunger? Was he going to be roasted over a fire like a pig and served to the very beast he was hunting? or was it that the creature preferred raw meat, and he would just be dumped into a monster's feeding trough and eaten alive whilst still screaming?
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ROUND 2
Cultist 1 rolls to “deliver.” (30+DC)(1d100. 95. Epic Success.)
Cultist moves Philip 10ft towards the destination (destination is now. Add +5 DC to next escape grapple roll. 2 turns before combat skips.
Philip rolls to escape (75+ DC)(1d100. 27. Fail. Holy sh*t are these dice loaded?)
The demon's deep, gravelly chuckle cut through his squirming prey's endless babbles and complaints. His master would surely be pleased with such a spirited offering.
"Such a wild streak in you." He nearly purred as he stalked around the prone offering, his eyes drifting to the curve of his still-clothed bottom.
"Wonder if the master will let me have a turn when he's done with you." His deep voice purred in the temporarily stunned man's ear as he crouched low and gathered his body into his long arms.
With a grunt of exertion, he half carried, half dragged the little offering down the well-worn path, his own meager loincloth beginning to tent as the struggling mass ground involuntarily against his groin. "If he does, I'll have to settle for that pretty mouth of yours. The other end will be much too stretched out for the likes of me."
Another soft, foreboding chuckle filled the quiet forest as his eyes locked on the sapling braided together in an arch further down the path. Just a few more moments and he would be the favored servant.
The words, though spoken with the mischievous, if not mocking, cadence one would expect from a mean-spirited jest, the intent behind them felt as though it was hitting Philip with the pendulum of a sword swing. The whirlwind of emotions was akin to a dagger twisting in his belly and mangling his insides until he found himself instinctively digging his heels into the dirt, his feet scrambling to try to find purchase as he was shoved along the forest trail toward the den of the beast.
Surely, Surely not. Not even a creature like this, living in such a sinful, debauched world, would resort to something as horrid as what it was implying. He had never in all his years seen one resort to such despicable practices. He could give the Godless that much credit, at the very least. Regardless, his already scuffed shoes made shallow, raking trails through the earth as he was forced closer.
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ROUND 3
Cultist 1 rolls to “deliver.” (30+DC)(1d100. 98. Phenomenal Success. I ask again, is DnD Dice Roller giving me loaded dice?) Add +10 DC to the next escape grapple roll. 1 turn before combat skips
Philip rolls to escape grapple (80+ DC)(1d100. 64. fail.)
The Witch Hunter's face somehow managed to pale even more. No matter how hard he fought, the cretin forcing him along seemed that much stronger than Philip, and the ropes, though tied at a speed that would normally suggest sloppy craftsmanship, seemed quite thoroughly knotted. No matter how many times Philip managed to wrangle a small bit of rope between his fingers to try to untie his binds, he found it unable to budge with his limited range of mobility.
Maybe if he could reach his dagger? or a glyph of some kind? Fire might work just as well as a blade.
Oh, he had to be fast. The maw of the den was fast approaching. He didn't have much time left to meet this beast on his own terms.
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Round 3
Cultist 1 rolls to “deliver.” (30+ DC)(1d100. 32. Success.)
Philip rolls to escape grapple (70+ DC)(1d100. 69. Nice, but Fail.)
Because Philip came SO CLOSE to escaping, let’s make this next writing phase interesting…
The cultist continued to chuckle as his prey squirmed against his bonds. As the smaller man's cries took on a higher pitch, a more urgent tone, he could feel himself stiffening further.
It did not help that each thrash dragged that Titan-blessed bottom against his groin. As he glimpsed at the looming entryway to his master's domain, a thought rose in his mind.
"I suppose there's nothing wrong with me ensuring you're a high-quality offering." He groaned the weak excuse into the shell of his possession's ear, his hips rolling forward to purposefully grind against him. "He deserves the best after all..."
With another low groan and roll of his hips, he shifted his temporary toy into a one-armed hold around his chest. The other hand, led by exploring fingers adorned with sharp claws, crept around his hip to slip between the fork between his legs.
"This will go much better for both of us if you relax..." The demon's ragged breaths made his words difficult as he continued to press his painfully hard co*ck against the plush swell of the ass all but begging to be stretched before him. "I'll make it easier for you to please the master. You should be thanking me..."
Another roll of his hips had his eyes fluttering shut and his grip reflexively loosening the slightest bit.
Philip's eyes widen, and despite every reasonable ounce of his being telling him that everything about this was wrong, that this was NOT how this day was supposed to go, that he was meant to be the one pulling this depraved creature's strings and NOT the current situation of having this creature humping his backside like a mutt to a bitch—
Suddenly, he found his face burning at the idea that he had inadvertently referred to himself as a bitch. And, as shameful as it was, that, paired with the humid, repetitive pants of hot air against the shell of his ear, made his belly churn with a mysterious heat. Like a string of a lute plucked so that a thrum of sinful delight wormed its way down his tingling spine and nestled in his gut, as slight as that pleasure might be when compared to his dread.
Ah, so it seemed the church hadn't managed to stamp out all of his sinful inclinations. He would have to atone soon. Very soon.
At the thought of potentially surrendering to both the unmistakable demon within him and the literal demon physically on him, Philip reared his body back when the opportunity presented itself: twisting himself out of the demon's claws while the ghoul attempted to place him in that single-armed hold and managing to land on his feet without losing balance.
He had thought he had made it. He had even been in the middle of taking a confident step forward, preparing to ramp up speed to make his escape, when suddenly his still-bound wrists were seized with both of the fiend's clawed hands, yanking the very nearly escaped Witch Hunter back towards itself before he could properly make a run for it.
"Woah there." The cultist's tone was hitched up by an octave, the bite of anxiety present with how hurried the words were.
Hands, now stiff and utilitarian rather than the rolling, massaging things they were before, shifted along the captive's arms. Claws dug through the meager protection of the offering's thin shirt, the pressure of his nails just shy of slicing the soft skin.
"Eager to meet the master, aren't we?" His chuckle failed to hide the nervous tilt of his words. There wasn't a chance his lord hadn't caught a whiff of this delectable snack. Not to mention his own arousal. If he had lost his grip...
No need to worry about that now. He hadn't. "Let's get you in place, hmm?"
With one hand still holding his torso in place, his other arm swept the bound man up from behind his knees. Secured against his chest in a morbid parallel to a bride, the cultist stepped through the natural threshold that marked the entryway of his master's grove.
Philip barely had enough time to process a new plan to escape before he was being dropped—literally dropped— down a hill. A steep incline awaited the captive and captor on the other side of the twin braided saplings. Philip hit the ground with an oof and then disappeared in the underbrush when the slope of the land forced his bound body to roll deeper into the lair.
He had expected the demon who captured him to accompany him into the lair, to carry him, as much as he seethed in the cretin's arms, and hand him off into the maw of the beast.
It wasn't an ideal outcome, but it at least would have left Philip with some semblance of dignity.
But no, now he found himself becoming scratched and scuffed by every stray twig, thorn, and rock as he tumbled down the hill like a snowball. He only stopped once his torso connected with a short and stout tree stump that blocked his way forward. He groaned at the impact, feeling the thud from such a stop all the way in his bones. He would have curled in on himself if he had been physically able at the moment.
Once he settled, there was nothing in the woods but his ragged breathing. Philip lay there unmoving, his eyes flicking this way and that, trying to get an idea of where this monster could be.
Then, just when he had started to drop his shoulders and let his mind wander to potential ways to wiggle out of his ropes, he heard it.
WHUFF
A deep sound, like an agitated bull sniffing the air, sounded just in front of him, beyond where the stump blocked his vision. Accompanying the sound was a deep bellow. Again, akin to a bull or buck, and the sound of wood being splintered somewhere ahead.
The next bellow he heard was nearer to him.
WHUFF WHUFF
PSHHT
MOOOOOOOO
The sound was deafening, rattling in Philip’s skull until his vision went fuzzy, and a second later, a large hand with brown fur covering every inch of it crashed down on the stump shielding Philip from the creature's gaze, causing what was left of the long-since-dead plant to split in half as the hideous beast was revealed.
Strangely enough, the first thing that caught Philip's eye was the hoof that raked against the ground by his head. It was nearly the size of a dinner plate. A deep ebony color that had dark, red-soaked chunks of dried mud clinging to every crevice. The ankle barely thinned out, being about the width of Philip's neck, and then the thickness of the leg suddenly tapered outwards for what equated to the calf of the monster. Rippling and bulging like the muscles would tear through the skin at any moment, and, horrifyingly enough, that was all Philip could easily see of the monster before the sun's glare from between the gaps in the forest's canopy blinded him from the rest of the creature's grotesque silhouette.
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COMBAT PHASE 2
Minotaur - 27/27 HP
- Boss Enemy
- Traits:
- (Anorg*smia. This enemy has a harder time finishing the job. Must start org*sm Checks with +5 DC to base)
- (Reckless. If this Enemy is Grappling its target at the beginning of its turn, it can roll a 65+ DC to activate this trait. If successful, this Enemy will roll with a -10 to DC on Sexual Attacks, Climax Rolls, and Willpower checks for the rest of the round. Can only be activated 2 times)
- (Charge. If the Enemy moves at least 20 feet straight toward a target and then attempts a Grapple Attack on the same turn, the enemy rolls for Grapple with a -20 to DC base)
- (Bitchbreaker. Any successful Sexual Combat rolls made by this creature have an extra 1d10 added to the outcome (d20 instead of d10, d30 instead of d20, etc.), Mindbreak rolls are made with +5 to the base DC. Any Sexual Attack roll above 70 adds a flat +10 to Pleasure and Corruption)
- (Addictive Load. When this Enemy succeeds at an org*sm Check, the target must roll a 35+ base DC Willpower Check to avoid becoming Addicted. Every subsequent successful Enemy org*sm on the same target will increase the Willpower Check difficulty by +5 to DC. When the target becomes addicted, they must roll for Mental Fortitude damage for every turn that the character is still being f*cked after being creampied.)
- Actions:
- (Unbind. (Conditional) If this Enemy’s target is Apprehended at the start of its turn, the Enemy must roll a strip check to remove the rope Apprehending its target. If successful, its target will no longer have the Apprehended trait and will lose the bonus +1 Clothing/Armor for rope)
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ROUND 1
Initiative (1d20. Minotaur, 4. Philip, 15)
Combat Order: Philip, Minotaur.
Philip attempts to get out of his ropes (70+ DC. Nat 1. I could not roll worse if I tried flubbing the dice myself. Philip must wanna get f*cked at this point.)
Not only does Philip fail to get out of the ropes and get away, but he actually falls INTO the minotaur’s arms.
Minotaur grapples Philip (automatically passes grapple check due to Apprehended trait.)
Rolling for grappled position (1d4. 4. grounded/away.)
Minotaur rolls to remove Philip’s clothing (70+ DC. 95. Epic Success.)
Minotaur rips off ropes and (1d2) clothes. (1d2. 1) Minotaur rips off Philip’s shirt. Philip is no longer “apprehended.”
Philip didn't need much convincing to begin trying to writhe his way away from the enormous creature eclipsing him in its shadow. All it took was him managing to catch a glimpse at the chains and shackles adorning the beast's wrists and bulging neck. Something about seeing the rusted metal glittering in what little sun it reflected spurred Philip into action:
He could escape. This beast can only go so far, or so he hoped.
To his credit, Philip did manage to push himself to his feet despite the ropes keeping his arms locked firmly behind his back. Unfortunately, that's also where any credit he could have given himself in the situation suddenly came to an abrupt stop. In his panic, Philip found himself scrambling to his feet too fast. When he pivoted his body to try to flee from the creature, he spun himself too hard and ended up tripping over his shoes in an attempt to right himself. His back connected with the stomach of the beast. It felt like someone had taken a brick wall, covered it with a bear pelt, and tried to pass it off as a living, breathing creature. Philip's eyes bulged as the wind left him with a breathless oof, the impact, much like the rest of this little "quest" of his, left him reeling, unsure of which way was up, down, or sideways.
A shuddering huff left the enormous monster as his new cow backed into his broad chest. The thick skull, crowned with a set of horns nearly twice as long as his cow stood tall, dipped forward as he chuffed and inhaled.
A deep, bellowing moo, the softest sound his barrel chest could make, vibrated between them. He could smell the spike of fear this little cow let off in waves. It was so very small. With the exception of its face, most of its fur seemed to be gone as well.
Another attempt at a soft bellow left its wide lips on moist breath as he drew his hot, sticky tongue across his newest mate's neck. Once he bred the little cow properly, it would officially be part of the herd. The small thing would never need to worry about anything other than taking his co*ck and rearing their calves.
An arm nearly as thick as his cow's waist locked around his mate's hips. It took such little effort to bow the tiny companion, to press them forward into the dirt on their chest and knees.
A snort of annoyance filled the air when his heavy co*ck, veins pulsing and thick, pungent cum dripping from the head, slid against fabric instead of fur or skin. Another snort, this one if warning, was the only heads-up his tiny cow received before his free hand tightly grasped the tangle of rope and cloth covering his cow's upper half.
With a twist and a jerk, fabric and fiber tore away with ease, the blunted claws and callused fingertips slicing through the meager protection without hesitation.
There. Now his cow could prop itself up in the proper breeding position. A satisfied “Moooo” echoed lightly in the grove as he tipped his head down to draw that hot tongue across the entirety of his mate's back. The tangy taste of sweat, fear, and the barest hint of arousal was addicting. It had been so long since he had a proper mount.
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ROUND 2
Philip rolls to escape grapple (60+ DC) (1d100. 25. Fail.)
Minotaur rolls to strip Philip of his remaining clothes (70+ DC) (1d100. 69. I—Huh… I don’t know if this is a crit or if it’s nothing. checks rules. I think…I think a strip check counts as a sexual attack? I think it may fit in the same vein…)
Because it’s unclear whether a 69 in this situation is a crit or not, I’ll go ahead and treat it as a regular success, but will not give the minotaur the chance to f*ck the hero yet. Maybe comment if you guys think this situation counts as a crit hit or not and I’ll go with that moving forward.
Philip's back shot straight like he had been lashed when he felt the beast lick across his neck and back. Feeling that wide tongue curl around his throat and wet the curly hair decorating his back to the point of being soaked caused him to yell out and curse, trying to jerk his shoulder backward to try to wipe away any excess.
The sounds, the fur, the size, everything about this creature seemed so... familiar. His mind had already drawn parallels to cattle back in the human realm, but the smell of the beast, mingling with the coppery smell of dried, aged blood and general musk, was what truly solidified the similarities in his head. It genuinely smelled like cow pies and dirty animals in this lair.
straining his neck so he could tilt his head back rewarded him with the sight of the twin horns. Bull horns.
Philip swore he heard the sound of something breaking. Like a part of his sanity was chipped off. It was as if it was made of glass, and a pebble smashed right into the corner of it and knocked off a piece.
he must truly be going insane.
"A BULL?" Philip squawked. His mouth hung open in disbelief. But yes, everything about this creature, even down to the ring hooked into the snout of it, resembled everything that he came to associate with damned cattle back home.
...Except, not completely. He realized too late that this thing was equal part humanoid as it was bovine as his pants were also wrenched from his legs with a low-pitched
rrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiIIIIIIIIPPPPP
He made another ugly guffawing sound when his head snapped downwards when he felt that his sinfully lustful flesh had actually twitched in interest at the thought of this wild...godless...bull-man...THING on top of him now.
Oh no, this would not STAND!
He placed one hand on the stout forearm encircling his waist, trying to push on the humanoid arm and hand just to buy himself a little wiggle room, his leg rearing to try to kick between the bull-thing's legs.
The enormous creature of leathery skin and bulging muscles groaned, the sound more akin to a deep bellow than anything else as his cow's hind leg slipped back between his hooves.
The soft, nearly furless calf slid wonderfully underneath his swollen balls, stirring the impatient seed within. Ah, his cow was just as eager to bear his calves despite its... no his smaller frame. The bull let out a short series of huffs, a mockery of a chuckle, as he quickly glanced at his mate's pitifully small member dangling between his legs.
Perhaps that's why he came to the Grove. He must know that he was meant to bear calves instead of siring them. Best not to keep the sweet little cow waiting, then.
Eager to hear what new sounds the soft mate beneath him would make, the bull snapped his hips forward. Another shuddering groan vibrated from his barreled chest and into his mate's shoulders as the tip of his co*ck snagged on his cow's tightly puckered entrance. With a wet snap, the long member slipped up and between his cow's rump and well along his lower back. As each fold bumped against the crest of his wriggling partner's rear, the bull's breath caught in its throat.
His breathing coming in ragged, desperate gasps, he drew his hips back once more. Thick, strong hands jostled and forced his cow into position for another attempt…
Philip's toe curled at the feeling of the bull thrusting against his backside. He had instinctually puckered his rear and flinched back, clenching and curling in on himself like a dog tucking its tail between its legs. This seemed to have saved him, because just as quickly as the flared tip of the 'tool' he was to be impaled with pressed against his ass and promised to enter, he managed to knock it off-course and send it lurching between the fattened curves of his rear to tickle halfway up his spine.
He blanched. No, no way. It couldn't be that big, could it?
He wasn't sure if his back was a reliable method of measuring such a thing, but it damn near felt like it was as wide as his torso, and the wetness smeared across his back from the leaking tip only stopped a little past the midpoint of his spine. He couldn't help the odd sound that came out of his mouth. He had never made a sound quite like it before, and he was quite certain he never could again in a million years. It sounded like he never became a man. Like he never sprouted hair on his chest or face, or if... other parts of him never 'dropped', per se.
Such a high-pitched and pathetic sound. And what was worse was his own meager co*ck twitched with interest yet again. Damned traitorous flesh, showing interest in such horrid displays.
His own nostrils flared, amusingly much like the beast above him, and a thin sheen of sweat found its way onto his brow as the beast yanked him back to try again.
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ROUND 3
Philip rolls to escape grapple (60+ DC)(1d100. 10. Fail.)
Minotaur rolls for sexual attack (1d100. 36. Roll the dice as intended (d10) adding +5 to the result)
Pleasure damage (1d10 +5. 7 +5. 12)
Philip’s pleasure is now at 12%
Minotaur rolls for climax (95+ DC) (1d100. 58. Fail. next DC at 90…)
The bull's grip softened ever so slightly as his cow shivered beneath him and squealed like a newborn. Ah, the little one must be intimidated by his size.
A soft chuff left broad lips as they tousled the short hairs on the back of his head. This was not his first mount. He was not some short-horned yearling who would break a cow with the first shunt.
Another reassuring chuff ruffled the pinned mate's hair before that long tongue dragged across the back of his neck. So long as he held still he had nothing to worry about.
Blunted teeth clamped down on one bare shoulder as the bull eased his hips forward with a shallow thrust. This time, he hit the mark squarely, the slightly flared tip of his co*ck popping in with minimal difficulty despite the tight squeeze of his mount's hole.
A shuddering exhale had his hot breath fanning out on either side of his lips as the bull leaned forward, burying himself just beyond the halfway point.
His little cow was so warm, so tight . His newly sheathed co*ck twitched as those gummy walls fluttered and clamped down around it.
Philip let out a deep groan. Or at least he tried to. Very little sound came other than a quiet wheeze that, embarrassingly, did make him sound a bit like a heifer.
Oh, dear merciful Lord in Heaven... A man's body could not possibly be designed for something of this caliber.
His jaw slackened as his head fell forward, his chin practically touching his chest. His hole instinctively clenched around the creature's 'sword', which caused Philip to have to suck in a breath from between puckered lips. It was so big. The already-too-thinly-stretched ring of muscle quivered around the beast's girth. His own inadequate-seeming length twitched excitedly at the stimulation of the initial thrust. Philip idly gripped the long grass between his fingertips with one white-knuckled hand planted firmly on the ground. The hand that was still holding on for dear life to the bull-like creature's forearm dug deeper into the flesh, pulling at the fur and leather-like skin like that would somehow help his current situation.
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ROUND 4
Philip rolls to escape (60+ DC)(1d100. 50. Fail. These are the dice, Philip. Work with me here. You know you’re supposed to try to get BIG numbers, yes?)
Minotaur rolls for sexual attack (1d100. 78. Roll the dice as intended twice.)
(2d10) pleasure dice. (10, 2)
Another 12%, putting Philip at 24% pleasure.
Minotaur rolls for org*sm (90+ DC) (1d100. 99. Success.)
Philip rolls willpower check to avoid becoming addicted (35+ DC) (1d100. 49. Pass.)
Philip is not addicted to Minotaur cum yet but now must take (5d10) pleasure damage from enemy climax.
(5d10. 8, 6, 5, 7, 9) (35)
Philip takes 35 pleasure damage, putting him at 59% pleasure.
Philip org*sms.
Philip rolls (1d10) pleasure dice. (1d10. 1.)
Philip takes 1 pleasure damage, putting him at 60% pleasure.
Philip must now also roll corruption damage. (1d20)
(1d20. 3.)
Philip takes 3% Corruption damage, leaving him at 97% Mental Fortitude.
Managing to focus his mind on a single goal, Philip's eyes rolled upward and locked onto a small clutch of bushes that seemed to resemble a tunnel leading out of the den. A ding of an idea sounded in his brain. If he could just manage to get there...
just big enough for him, but not nearly enough for his 'friend' to make it through after him if he was quick...
Sucking in a deep breath, Philip used all of his willpower to drag his knee forward. Then, he released the fur clamped in his fist and planted it firmly in the grass in front of him. Then his other hand moved forward too. More and more, he inched forward, feeling more and more of his insides become free from clutter as he eased himself off of the bull demon's co*ck. Each extra blade of grass crossed felt like another battle won on his trek.
Each little whimper and mewl from his cow had the hulking bull's ears twitching, his stomach tightening, and his hips inching forward a bit more. His teeth still locked onto his small mate's shoulder, the minotaur groaned and shifted his iron grip so both hands rested firmly on his little heifer's narrow hips.
His back arched and a snort of warning tousled the grass beneath them as he felt his prize start to inch forward and off of his aching rod. Oh, that would not do. His little cow would be properly bred, their hips locked together. With another short snort and squeeze of his hips, the bull abruptly jerked his prize back as his hips shuddered forward, their bodies meeting with an audible smack of skin.
The tight ring of muscle, quickly blown open to near its limit, desperately tried to force the intruding co*ck out by twitching and pressing against it. The sudden stimulation at the oh-so-sensitive joint between the base of his shaft and the sheath had his heavy, overly full balls quickly tightening as they swung under their connected bodies to gently tap against his little cow's meager package.
Mouth detaching with a soft, wet squelch, the minotaur's head lolled lower as his back arched further, that heavy tongue hanging limply between massive jaws. Using the convenient creature beneath him more like a toy than a mate, he roughly pulled the slender hips back against himself once, twice, three times more before...
MOOOOOOO
Rope after rope of sticky, thick, pungent, hot, plentiful cum painted the insides of his sweet little cow. In time with each pulse, the bull twitched its hips forward; thick fingertips locked onto the soft flesh with enough force to bruise. Crimson eyes seemed to blur and fade as the org*smic haze washed over the beast's brain. There was only the feeling of finally breeding. Claiming his little cow with the first of many loads.
The sound Philip made when he was pulled back was humiliating. His fingers remained clutching the grass and caused its roots to rip out of the ground when he was yanked back. The co*ck inside of him managed to press so deep and stretch him so far that it had his eyes rolling back in his head.
His arms tapped out on him, and he sunk down onto his elbows as the bull began to thrust into him in earnest. The wet plaps and smacks to his rear made his face burn with both a very healthy dose of shame, as well as a shameful feeling of pleasure.
“Gaahhhhh—ahhahaaaa… gaaahhhhh… ”
Then, Philip felt something hot and, oddly, tingly squirt into his bowels. His own body tensed and his back arched as the mix of sensations caused his brain to go blank and his co*ck to spurt out a pathetic stream of cum onto his own chest and into the grass. His body quaked and shuddered, more pathetic sounds leaving his mouth.
Oddly enough, as he was coming down from the high of his org*sm, a strange fuzz felt like it was trying to grow on his brain. His brain felt foggy for just a short while before Philip managed to shake his mind of it.
He slurped the dribble from his glistening lips with clenched teeth— WHEN had he started drooling? — and tried to recover his bearings.
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ROUND 5
Philip is going to roll to escape grapple (60+ DC) (1d100. 35. Fail. Can we get one fricking fight, please? Philip needs to be able to get up for that, DnD Dice Roller.com!)
Minotaur rolls to activate trait “Reckless” (60+ DC) (1d100. 70. Success.)
Minotaur now rolls with -10 to DC on Sexual Attacks, Climax Rolls, and Willpower checks for the rest of the round. (can only be activated one more time)
Minotaur rolls to change grapple type (60+ DC) (1d100. 62. Pass.)
Minotaur pulls Philip into a (1d4. 2) Standing/Away grapple.
Does Minotaur advance position? (60+DC)(1d100. 60.) He does.
Position Advanced to… (1d2. 1. Full Nelson! “ Corruption Damage is rolled and subjected to a x1.5 modifier (roll a 10 it becomes 15), +10 to Grapples, +5 to Mindbreaks when applicable.”)
Minotaur rolls for Sexual Attack Intensity. (1d100. 86. “Roll dice as intended twice.”)
(2d10. 9, 9)
Philip takes 18% Pleasure damage, putting him at 77% pleasure.
Minotaur rolls to Climax (80+ DC) (1d100. 5. Fail. DC returns to 90+ next round.)
As the aftershocks of the org*sm began to fade, the bull let his weight shift forward and lay the slightest bit more across his little mate's back. Wide nostrils flared as he regained his breath and soaked in the scents surrounding them in equal measure. A proud bellow, quickly dampened so as to not hurt his sweet little cow's sensitive ears, filled the grove as he caught a whiff of their shared climax. Of course, his heifer would find release in his proper place; speared on his herd leader's co*ck.
But, why was he making those impatient little noises? And wiggling so much? Surely he did not think one dose of seed was all he was capable of? There was much his heifer needed to be taught. And, as his bull, he would be the one to provide such a lesson.
Grunting, the beast drew a comforting tongue across the back of his mate's neck once again, rather enjoying the tickle of the short, curly fur against the wide muscle. The sapling trunks of rippling muscle that passed for arms slipped down to hook under the trembling cow's knees. In one, surprisingly agile and fluid motion, the bull rocked back until his haunches rested on the soft mossy earth, his mate tugged along for the ride without ever having to suffer the displeasure of dislodging himself from that tight, warm hole.
Those enormous hands quickly found purchase in the tuft of fur atop his squawking mate's head. With another low groan, the still very erect demon only needed to flex his biceps to gain enough leverage to bounce the bloated cow along the final 6 inches of his shaft. Each time their hips met with an audible squelch, a heavy pant or soft groan sounded behind and above the perfectly folded stress toy.
Each shunt saw the pace increasing the smallest bit, the intensity of the groans quickly shifting to growls. Little Cow would learn true satisfaction before he would allow them their proper rest.
Philip's arms were trapped between the humanoid bull's biceps and the wide pecs of its chest. All he could do to brace himself was splay his fingers across the rippling muscles that flexed on the chest whenever his body was jerked up and down. His eyes rolled back in his head every time he was made to fully connect with the beast's lap. The strange feeling of coarse hair scraping against the underside of his balls, cheeks, and the rim of his hole made him moan loudly, throwing his head back until he was resting it against the junction where big, bulging, trunk-of-muscle that was this beast's neck met its shoulder. Even with looking away as best he could, he could still see his stomach, bloated and fat-looking, becoming even further warped and distended every time his body moved downward. It was like watching a battering ram being pushed against a sheet but stopping just short of ripping it in half, and just below that was his still-hard co*ck bouncing up and down along with him, slapping wetly against his own belly and smearing residual cum on his happy trail.
His intestines gurgled as the cum inside him was churned by the very co*ck that planted it there, and Philip groaned again, unable to stop the gasps and groans from spilling from his lips. His lips almost curved upwards before his teeth sunk into his bottom lip painfully.
NO! He was NOT enjoying this. He was supposed to hate this! He DID hate this! No godly man would enjoy sodomy OR enjoy being bedded by a demon!
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ROUND 6
Philip rolls to escape (60+ DC) (1d100. 40. Fail.)
Minotaur rolls for sexual attack intensity (1d100. Nat 1. Hooooly sh*t! Hooooly sh*t! Hoooooooly sh*t! Philip don’t f*ck this up!)
Minotaur is forced to release Philip, taking (1d4) damage in the process.
(1d4. 1) Minotaur is now at 26/27 HP.
Philip groaned again when the beast's tongue ran across his cheek in a—what was that—was that a loving gesture? Or, at least, as loving as a creature like this could be. Philip let out an audible "Blegh" when the tongue combed over the back of his neck and stretched to touch the corner of his mouth, turning his head away from the offending muscle.
THAT does it. He will not sit here and be groomed and...and... One glimpse down at his belly getting put through a proper pummeling made him scrunch his eyes shut TIGHT. He didn't even want to think about what this creature was achieving with him.
So, he turned his head and attempted to snap at the beast's arm. It was SO CLOSE. It was RIGHT THERE. If he could dig his teeth into it, he could MAYBE get it to let him go that way instead of just trying to muscle his way out of the creature's arms.
The bull's eyes, which had drifted shut in absolute bliss as it lazily ground its perfect little mate down against that throbbing shaft snapped open as teeth grazed along a bulging muscle. The light scraping sensation along the admittedly more sensitive skin of its upper arm forced a ticklish shudder to run down its spine. Along with it, a stuttered inhale shook both of them as its body twitched away from the odd sensation.
Thoroughly distracted, the beast lost his grip entirely, his precious cow falling forward and out of his protective embrace. The subsequent bend of his co*ck and drag along those warm walls was heaven at first, although the sharp removal from its proper sheath, accentuated with a comically loud pop, had him immediately growling in displeasure. Compared to his heifer's walls, the air of the grove was unpleasantly cold.
Not to mention the loss of the second org*sm building deep within his gut. With a guttural growl, the demon leaned forward and gathered those large hooves under his frame, the sharp edges gouging into the soft earth. The growl quickly cut off into an inquisitive noise as the feeling of mild discomfort radiated up from one of its calves. The enormous crowned head co*cked curiously to the side as he took in the look of absolute displeasure on his mate's face.
The little spitfire had kicked him! His herd leader! Granted, he imagined the cow was a bit frustrated at being separated in such an undignified way. No matter, he would mount again before any more of his seed could spill onto the grass. The bit that had seeped out was just something else to spend extra time on when grooming later.
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ROUND 7
A/N: It was at this point in writing that I realized that I had forgotten to consider one of the Minotaur’s traits when calculating pleasure dice: The Bitch Breaker trait. “ Any successful Sexual Combat rolls made by this creature have an extra 1d10 added to the outcome (d20 instead of d10, d30 instead of d20, etc.), Mindbreak rolls are made with +5 to the base DC . Any Sexual Attack roll above 70 adds a flat +10 to Pleasure and Corruption)”
Figuring it was too late to go back and rewrite this entire Phase 2, because it would be a WILDLY different outcome than what we currently have, decided to instead calculate another set of corruption dice based on how many times Philip has org*smed so far.
Philip’s MF dropped to 87%.
Now back to our regularly scheduled D&D-styled monster f*cking, this time calculating Bitch Breaker traits.
Philip rolls to run away and vault a nearby fallen tree (40+ DC)(1d100. 40. Success.)
Okay! See, Philip? THAT is how you pass a DC check! Philip vaults over the fallen log, buying himself a full turn before he has to worry about the Minotaur!
Minotaur moves to the tree and attempts to gore it with his horns (50+ DC) (1d100. 3. Phenomenal fail.)
Wow! Minotaur is flubbing this round. Okay, so not only does the minotaur NOT break the tree, but he actually hurts himself in his own confusion.
Minotaur rolls (1d4) damage (1d4. 4)
Minotaur takes 4 damage and is down to 22/27 HP
He couldn't believe that worked! As soon as Philip's feet hit the forest floor, he was taking off running, or, well, drunk-stumbling towards a nearby fallen tree. One thing he knew about bulls was their tendency to charge when angry. He wasn't sure how pissed off he had made the bull when he pulled his little stunt, but he was certain it was better to get the hell out of dodge just in case his trying to get away came back to bite him in the ass.
So, Philip half-sprinted-half-limped towards a nearby fallen tree that was littered with large streaks where the bull had used it to sharpen its horns and more than likely used it as leverage for...other activities, planted his hands firmly on the bark, and vaulted his way over it. He just barely managed the feat with a body so full and spent, but he did manage it. Collapsing and rolling on the ground on the other side once out of immediate danger.
The bull's lazy, lust-hazed swipe to catch his mate's arm closed on empty air, promoting a grunt halfway between confusion and frustration to escape the thick throat. Blinking rapidly to better focus, the demon's eyes widened in surprise as he watched his little cow adorably waddle to his preferred sharpening log.
A sharp, indignant moo echoed in the forest as he watched the heifer stumble and scramble over the log, disappearing in the tangle of branches and browning leaves on the other side.
What was the little heifer doing? He had already proven his ability to catch, to provide. There was no further need for the chase. He had marked his cow. Claimed him.
Another snort flared his nostrils as he tossed his head. Very well. If this cow still required a demonstration of strength from the herd leader, he would oblige.
With shuddering steps, he casually charged at the log, his still erect and dripping member bobbing with each jarring step. Usually, he would lower his head to impale any obstacle unfortunate enough to be in the way. But, just in case his dumb little mate was still in the way, he kept his head high, leading with his chest. Besides, it was his favorite sharpening log. Shifting it a few feet should be a sufficient demonstration. Enough to bury himself properly in those soft, warm, wet walls again.
So preoccupied with how it would feel to drain his balls again, the bull failed to notice the tangle of twigs jutting out of the fallen log... until a particularly dry and sharp branch snagged against his swaying sac.
MOOOOOOO!!
His roar spooked several nearby birds into flight, the sound a cacophony of pain and absolute rage.
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ROUND 8
Philip rolls to attack Minotaur (50+DC) (1d100. 92. Epic Success!)
Philip hunkered down beside the tree, glaring at the minotaur's painful misstep with a mix of satisfaction and, despite his better judgment, a little bit of sympathy-pain in his own sac.
Then, his eyes flicked upwards, to the incomplete halo of horns adorning the creature's crown. Two massive, sharp borns embedded in that bovine skull that he could easily carve away. He could bring this beast down. He could. He wouldn't let this journey be for nothing.
The more he thought about it, the harder his heart pounded in his chest and the louder the rush of blood in his ears became. His dagger was discarded somewhere on the ground. He could see it! It was tossed away from him when the beast liberated his trousers from his body. It was right there in the grass, just over the log.
He doubted he could run. This thing would chase. The chains on the creature's throat and wrists weren't connected to anything. It was strong and pissed off and it would HUNT Philip if he didn't take it down NOW.
And, a part of Philip, the really hateful, vengeful part of him, didn't want this creature to live another day after trying to drag a Witch Hunter into sin.
His body moved before his brain even finished that thought. His knife was easy enough to retrieve from the ground, and, in full naked glory, Philip poised the blade out in front of him, roaring a battle cry of his very own, and plunged the dagger dead center between the beast's pecs.
Philip rolls (2d4) to stab the minotaur with his dagger (2d4. 1, 1)
Minotaur takes 2 damage, putting him at 20/27 HP.
Minotaur rolls to grapple (60+ DC) (1d100. 66. pass.)
Minotaur rolls to figure position (1d4. 3. Grounded/Facing)
Minotaur rolls for sexual intensity (1d100. 69. Critical Success, “roll dice Three times, add +5 to each roll, and the character getting f*cked must roll a 69+ to resist gaining a negative trait. Further, if this results in a Climax for the character, then the Corruption gained from the Climax is +10.”)
Oh, okay, wow… It was nice knowing you, Philip. I really was rooting for you. Jesus f*ck, this is gonna be brutal.
Okay…now for pleasure dice. We’re already doing (3d10) because of the crit, but “bitch breaker” trait says we also roll for double pleasure per dice roll… Which puts us at (6d10 +15) damage. And then another +10 added to pleasure/corruption.
(6d10. 7, 3, 10, 7, 3, 9) + 15 +10 = 64
64 f*cking damage. Christ almighty.
141% pleasure for Philip. Philip org*sms
Gonna go ahead and get the minotaur climax roll out of the way before I calculate anything else, just to make sure nothing else needs to be added
Minotaur rolls for Climax (95+ DC) (1d100. 50. Fail.)
First, let’s roll for Philip to avoid gaining a negative trait. (69+ DC) (1d100. 49. fail.)
Despite his absolute fury, the human's comparatively weaker cry did not strike fear in his target's heart. In fact, it merely drew the bull's attention away from his aching nether region.
Unfortunately for the desperate adventure, the twitch of the bull towards the sound of his mate's call meant the dagger simply grazed along the tough hide, barely leaving a shallow scratch in its wake.
Fully distracted from the fading ache in his loins, the bull snorted as he glared down at his feisty little cow. This little game had gone on long enough.
With another impatient snort, he hefted the lithe creature into his arms and stomped several paces away from the offending branch. Every cry or wiggle was met with an abrupt huff or harsh squeeze.
When they were finally an acceptable distance away from any protruding twigs and branches, the bull abruptly dropped his cow in a patch of grass and moss.
Before the little thing could scramble away again, the demon fell forward, its enormous hands thundering down on either side of his heifer's head.
A low growl of warning was all the cheeky thing got before the bull's hips snapped forward, his co*ck burying to the hilt once more. With all the wriggling and running his cow had done, a large bit of his seed had been wasted. But, there was still more than enough left to let him sliiide back into his heifers waiting passage.
A deep groan, accompanied by a full-body shudder saw the buzz of list rising in the back of his skull once more. From this angle, he could see every subtle shift of his mate's face.
In fact, the way his wet lips parted in the deep nest of fur hiding the lower half of his flat face was positively alluring. That board, wet tongue parted the beast's maw as he lowered the enormous crowned head. As his moist nose pressed against his cow's face, the probing muscle forced its way between those small, plush lips.
Philip gagged when he felt the slimy muscle push between his lips and began rubbing the roof of his mouth with its rough texture. He didn't have much time to protest, though, because not a second later, the sensation of being made into a sheath once again, this time on both ends, made his body shudder and spasm until his traitorous co*ck sent another few pitiful spurts of sem*n onto both his and the demon's chest. He let out an ashamed moan, his lips and rim both fluttering around their respective intrusions. His eyes rolled back in his head as he felt his sanity take another massive hit.
Ohhh, how delightful this disgusting creature felt. He had never once looked at anything large and thought about how it would feel inside him. But now, when something the width of a decently-sized sapling was pounding into his ass and flattening him into a flapjack, he couldn't imagine anything else—
Philip's eyes snapped back open, a muffled anguish-filled cry leaving his lips at the realization that he may never look at a large, phallic object again without imagining what it may feel like inside him.
Philip gains the negative trait: Size Queen: “If an enemy is classified as a "large" monster or bigger, this character must roll with an additional +10 to any willpower DC to escape grapples.”
Because of his org*sm, Philip takes another (1d10) pleasure damage
(1d10. 9.)
Philip is at 150% pleasure, which means another org*sm. Damn, boy gets back-to-back org*sms…fun…
First, we’re going to calculate corruption damage for both org*sms. (2d20) (+10 because of the crit.)
(2d20. 2, 9.) +10 = 21%
Philip’s MF drops to 66%
Mindbreak check (10+ DC) (1d100. 9. Are you f*cking kidding me, Philip? Okay, so Philip is now level 1 mindbroken. “ gain +15 to all checks’ difficulty classes, and must roll 40+ to avoid gaining a new Negative Trait.”
Roll to avoid negative trait (40+ DC) (1d100. 83. success)
Pleasure dice. (1d10. 6.)
Philip’s pleasure is at 156%
Philip’s org*sm triggers another climax roll for the minotaur.
Minotaur rolls for Climax (90+ DC) (1d100. 96. Never seen a creature with balls so full.)
Philip rolls for pleasure damage. (5d10. 3, 3, 2, 3, 4.) 15 +10
Philip is at 181% Pleasure
Philip rolls for Addiction. (DC 40+) (1d100. 20. Fail.)
The bull's nostrils flared at the sweet aroma of his tiny mate's release. The warm liquid weakly splatting across the shallow scrape on his chest sent a surge of heat straight to his aching groin. Squatting lower on those enormous hooves, the monster shifted his grip until he pinned his cow's arm to either side of his narrow waist.
With several rough thrusts, he alternated slamming the soft body down on his co*ck and plunging his tongue well into a struggling throat. It was one of his mate's aftershocks, a particularly harsh twitch of that tight ring of muscle on his shaft, that tipped him over the edge.
With a snarl muffled by both their mouths, the beast drew his prize down to meet his hips once, twice, three times before holding him flush to his form once more. His tail twitched in time with his tight sac as a second load rushed into his waiting mate.
While not as large as the first, this cum was hotter, thicker, and more potent than his earlier release. Surely this would be the one that guaranteed their first of many calves. As the stream began to taper off, the bull finally pulled his tongue free of his heifer's mouth to drag it gently across his tear-streaked face. A rumble of pride broke through their heavy pants as crimson eyes locked onto the much more prominent swell of his mate's belly. Surely, he could take one more load? Just one more, to make sure they would have a calf this season.
Upon feeling the second stream of cum come pouring into him, Philip yelled out a string of curses from between blocked lips, mucus-like spittle sputtering out from the corners of his mouth where the tongue would allow. He continued to yell until his curses turned to moans. This time, he could feel it. Something filled his brain with nonsense and babbles. His mind felt like it had a layer of fuzz over it, like a peach fresh off a tree. It made his stomach feel warm, genuinely warm. The sem*n inside him, both the old load and the new, suddenly sparked in his belly and lit him aflame.
And it felt so good.
Another shuddering gasp ripped through Philip as his co*ck released another last squirt of cum. He didn't even feel a transition period from one org*sm to the next, it was just back-to-back, and his mouth watered at the thought of being filled once again.
There was a pang of something akin to hunger. The same way he felt when he had gone without a palisman in a while...
Philip is now addicted to minotaur cum. Will start rolling for MF damage if the minotaur is still f*cking him on its next turn.
CHRIST, this round took FOREVER. Oh yeah, that was all ONE TURN.
—————————————————————————————
Checkup on our “hero.”
Philip Wittebane, Human Cleric
Weapon: Dagger, (1d4) damage (Melee)
Pleasure: 181%
Mental Fortitude: 66%
State: Stage 1 “Mindbroken”
Clothing/Armour: 0/2 (Adventurer Shirt and Trousers)
Traits: Hair Trigger (for first encounter only). “This character has never had sex before. c*ms at every 50% pleasure instead of the typical 100%.”
Size Queen: “If an enemy is classified as a "large" monster or bigger, this character must roll with an additional +10 to any willpower DC to escape grapples.”
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Minotaur: 20/27 HP
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Round 9
Philip rolls to convince the beast to let him go. I’ll treat it like he’s trying to escape a grapple because I suppose he technically is, but Minotaur will have to fail a willpower check for it to work since Philip is trying to persuade. (60+ DC) (1d100. 60. Success.)
Finally, Philip wises up and realizes he can’t brute force his way out of this.
Minotaur rolls to refuse (45+ DC) (1d100. 44. Fail.)
The minotaur stops f*cking Philip! Buuuut, because it was SO close on both accounts, I’ll say that the minotaur stops f*cking Philip, but doesn’t let him go quite yet.
Philip gasped and sputtered as his mouth was freed from the creature's invading tongue. His face rolled to the side as the bull-like thing above him blew warm, humid air on his face and licked up what tears had managed to slip out from his eyes.
Philip first tried to push himself up and off of the creature again, but before he could even manage the attempt, his legs wobbled horribly and refused to support any of his weight. He would need to get his bearings first.
When the demon attempted to shunt him again, Philip let out a worrying yelp. He could feel the sem*n inside him being churned and shoved deeper with that small movement, and it made his body ache and yearn for more.
Oh, oh no . That fuzzy feeling wasn't going away. The haze overtaking his mind felt overwhelming.
Wouldn't it feel so good to have more? NO! No, it wouldn't! but... NO!
He and his brain had that back and forth for a good couple of seconds before he realized it was a losing battle. The allure put there by whatever magic was lingering in the monster's sem*n was simply too strong.
He had no choice but to try to reason with the bovine-like creature in front of him.
"No more." He spoke. He tried to sound calm, but he couldn't hold a steady note to save his life at the moment. His voice was littered with cracks and octave spikes as he tried to talk sense into the beast. "You can't expect me to be able to keep going..."
The bull paused mid-lick, his heavy tongue pressed flat against his cow's cheek and his hips angled for another shallow thrust. With a soft, almost tender chuff, he slowly raised his head just enough to catch his mate's exhausted expression.
The tiny thing did look just about ready to pass out. But oh, Titan, how amazing would that belly look with just one more load? He could take it; his cow was small and soft but tough all the same. The thought was enough to have his co*ck twitching deep inside those warm, flooded walls.
No. There would be time later. A good herd leader takes care of his cow's needs first. Besides, a break would give them plenty of time to solidify their bond.
With a quiet, soft moo, the bull carefully lowered itself onto one side, mindful not to let his co*ck slip free and waste any more seed. The arm underneath his bulking body shifted to support his torso while the other gently shifted the trembling man until he laid snuggly against his heated bulk, his hand coming down to proudly rest on the distended belly.
Satisfied with their relaxed position, the demon resumed its leisurely tongue bath. It was difficult to bend the thick neck low enough to reach beyond his mate's neck without accidentally bumping him with one of his massive horns, but he made do. Each stroke of that sticky muscle gathered stray flecks of their spent seed tangled in the comparatively sparse chest hair. A soft, low moo vibrated in the back of his throat as he savored the unique flavor of his mate's essence. Perhaps, after resting, he would coax another sample.
While technically not “f*cking” Philip, the minotaur still has his co*ck inside of him and is still stimulating him. We don’t want to afford Philip too much of a break, gotta keep the stakes there!
For every turn that the Minotaur remains inside of Philip without f*cking him, Philip will take (1d4) pleasure damage.
Philip rolls for pleasure damage when the minotaur’s co*ck twitches(1d4. 3)
Philip’s Pleasure reaches 184%
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Round 10
Philip rolls to convince Minotaur to pull out. Another “grapple” escape check (60+ DC) (1d20. 89. success!)
Another willpower check for the Minotaur! (45+ DC) (1d100. 32. Fail.)
Philip felt that long tongue roam over his chest, catching on his nipples and making his stomach drop in a strange mix of disgust and arousal. Then, the beast's co*ck twitched in its place inside of him, and he let out another humiliating moan as his hole clenched around the beast again, and he realized, shaking away any thoughts about how ' wonderful ' it would be to have his insides rearranged again, that the fuzz was fighting to overtake his thoughts once more.
So, he placed his hands on either side of the humanoid bull's head and pushed it away from him, groaning from exertion.
"NO. I need a proper break from you! Before you "break" ME ." He demanded, huffing as he managed to get the creature's tongue off of him. His mind FINALLY quieted.
The warble that left the bull's maw was damn near pitiful as he let his irritated heifer force his head up and away. He had already stopped breeding, despite every nerve screaming at him to keep going, to fill his precious cow until he couldn't get his legs under his enormous belly.
Surely grooming counted as taking things easy. His head dipped down once more, the tongue darting out to work on the next bare patch of skin.
As his cow shoved his head back up with another sharp refusal, the dejected creature let out a long, overly dramatic groan as he pulled his prize firmly against his chest; sausage fingers leaving imprints in the ballooned belly.
With a final, dramatic sigh, he released his annoyed mate and rolled onto his back, his now slowly softening member sliding free with no resistance. As the first glob of seed seeped from his cow, he briefly considered plugging the puckered hole with a finger.
However, a quick glance at his mate's scowl stopped his movement before it could start. There would be time to breed again later... although he would need to teach his tiny heifer not to be so wasteful.
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ROUND 11
Having a moment to himself, Philip finally allowed himself to breathe a deep sigh of relief. His mind was quiet. He could think.
He had exhausted every avenue. He had tried to run. He had failed. He had tried to fight. He had failed. He could try to hide, but where would he run towards so that the beast would not catch him and drag him back before he got far enough?
No matter what, it seemed like a dead end...
Then that nose, that wide, snorting snout, pressed against his shoulder again. That tongue licked up his arm again, and suddenly he had an idea.
He had always been good at playing the cards he was dealt, even when he absolutely despised the hand given...
Philip rolls to attempt to convince the Minotaur to fight for him. (60+ DC) (1d100. 77. Success!)
This thing, for whatever reason, was absolutely smitten with him… and had proved itself to be more than strong enough to be useful. If he could point the behemoth's destructive power toward his enemies, he could get SO much done...
And, when the day comes that he absolutely NEEDS what he came to get from the beast if the beast hadn't already died at that point, he could orchestrate a scenario that would let him dispose of the horned creature accordingly.
So, with a high-pitched, sharp whistle and a few well-timed clicks of his teeth, Philip called for the beast, pushing himself up onto shaky, unsteady legs, and beginning to make his way towards the thick line of flora surrounding the glen.
Minotaur is convinced by Philip to leave. Willpower check to see if the beast remains determined to breed Philip even when he becomes a companion. (45+ DC )(1d100. 70. Success!)
The bull snorted in alarm as he scrambled to gather his hooves beneath him, his head tossing in indignation. Just where did his cow, his only cow, think he was going? The grove, his territory he spent moons carving trees from and chasing off predators was a perfect location! Not to mention it already had expertly spaced scent markers.
He had already taken a couple large steps and reached for his mate's arm when a memory sprang to the forefront of his mind. His dam had moved the herd several times. His strong sire, in the years between his birth and being chased out, had perfected each territory they came across but it was always the cows that chose where they grazed and reared the calves. Alright. If his heifer knew of a better place to bear his calves, he would follow.
Falling into step directly behind the much smaller man, the bull shoved each small boulder and snapped intruding branches in his precious mate's path. Several times during the trek, he lowered that enormous head to lick at his darling mate's neck and shoulder, only to snort and stop impatiently each time he was shoved off.
Finally, the smell of the woods gave way to an overpowering aroma of his mate as they arrived at a decently sized cave. The ceiling was just high enough for the bull to enter without stooping, and the space went back far enough for five or six little ones to run, wrestle, and lock horns in play. This was a fine substitute for his grove. As good a place as any to start their herd properly.
Speaking of which, far too much of his seed had been spilled during their trek back. With another snort, this one softer yet deeper in tone, the bull deftly set his enormous hands on those already familiar hips. Dragging his little darling back until they were flush once more, his blunted teeth grazed against his bruised shoulder while his co*ck began to stiffen and lengthen anew. There would be a calf growing inside his cow by sunrise. He would make sure of it.
And there it is! Philip managed to make it out with his mind intact and a temporary party member in toe!
Because Philip managed to slither his way out of this situation, he deserves a trait!
New trait: Animal Handler: “When fighting against a monster classified as a ‘beast,’ roll with -20 DC to grapple checks.” (Only exists for as long as Minotaur remains in the party)
Removed trait: Hair Trigger: “This character has never had sex before. c*ms at every 50% pleasure instead of the typical 100%. Mind break checks occur when mental fortitude is at 66%, 33%, and 0%-onward instead of only occurring when Mental Fortitude reaches 0%. ”
New Party Companion!
Minotaur:
- 27/27 HP
- Weapon: Horns (2d8) Damage (melee)
- Traits:
- (Anorg*smia. This enemy has a harder time finishing the job. Must start org*sm Checks with +5 DC to base)
- (Reckless. If this Enemy is Grappling its target at the beginning of its turn, it can roll a 65+ DC to activate this trait. If successful, this Enemy will roll with a -10 to DC on Sexual Attacks, Climax Rolls, and Willpower checks for the rest of the round. Can only be activated 2 times)
- (Charge. If the Enemy moves at least 20 feet straight toward a target and then attempts a Grapple Attack on the same turn, the enemy rolls for Grapple with a -20 to DC base)
- (Bitchbreaker. Any successful Sexual Combat rolls made by this creature have an extra 1d10 added to the outcome (d20 instead of d10, d30 instead of d20, etc.), Mindbreak rolls are made with +5 to the base DC. Any Sexual Attack roll above 70 adds a flat +10 to Pleasure and Corruption)
- (Addictive Load. When this Enemy succeeds at an org*sm Check, the target must roll a 35+ base DC Willpower Check to avoid becoming Addicted. Every subsequent successful Enemy org*sm on the same target will increase the Willpower Check difficulty by +5 to DC. When the target becomes addicted, they must roll for Mental Fortitude damage for every turn that the character is still being f*cked after being creampied.)
As a companion, this monster has the potential to be an incredible ally or a horrid hindrance in battle. It will attack foes as normal, knocking them off party members if necessary, but with the added risk of potentially rolling to attempt to f*ck party members in the middle of battle, which can result in the party mind-breaking.
