The mud of the auction floor coats Matthew’s feet, dirtying his bare legs up to the knees. Drips and splotches of mud cover his gray velvet fur. He is naked but for a collar of thick iron around his narrow throat. It’s so cold in the little arena that Matthew’s teeth chatter, the collar like a lump of ice. A long, thick chain trials from the back of his collar to a post in the wooden wall behind him, jingling with every shiver that wracks his slight frame. 

Prospective buyers pace the compound, examining the boys for sale. A few give him a cursory glance, but most pay him no mind, leaving Matthew to his own mounting anxiety. If he’s not bought at this auction the masters will sell him off for pennies to the kennels to be fodder for the dogs. 

The lower the sun gets, the more desperately his heart pounds in his chest. The pink has nearly vanished from the sky when the minotaur arrives, greeting the flea-bitten coyote master like an old friend. Snivelling and groveling, the coyote guides his guest to where Matthew stands alone in the mud. 

The minotaur stands nearly eight feet tall, the enormous span of his shoulders barely contained in a short leather coat. His powerful furred legs give way to cloven hooves. He regards Matthew coldly with a yellow gaze. 

“Hello, sir,” Matthew says politely. Please buy me. Don’t leave me here.

The minotaur grunts, jamming a thumb through the boy’s parted lips. He pulls down the mouse’s gums, inspecting his small white teeth and clean tongue. 

With the faintest nod of approval, the minotaur circles around behind him. Unceremoniously, he shoves one huge hand between Matthew’s shoulder-blades. “Grab your ankles,” he grunts. 

Matthew hurries to comply, his paws gripping the back of his ankles, ass in the air. His tight tailhole twitches faintly. The minotaur pulls one asscheek to the side to widen his hole further. He puts a single dry finger against Matthew’s hole, forcing it inside in one hard press. Matthew chokes on a cry at the pain of it. 

“I told you he was tight,” the coyote yips, obviously pleased with himself. The minotaur gives a low snort in response, yanking his finger free. Matthew whimpers, his hole fluttering. He keeps his gaze locked on the muddy earth, but he can hear coin being exchanged, his chain clinking behind him. 

Cautiously, Matthew looks up through his lashes, head still demurely bowed. The minotaur holds his chain in one large fist. It pulls taut between them as the minotaur gives it a tug, guiding the slave out of the arena. Matthew doesn’t look back. 
____________________________________________________________________________

The ranch is a modest, two story home ringed with golden fields and a flawless split-rail fence. Matthew sees a dark cluster of shapes moving in the far field, some sort of livestock. An enormous barn dominates the landscape, the russet clapboards well worn with time. 

Matthew feels a million questions burning through his mind--what will be his duties, where will he be living, where is everyone--but the minotaur does not offer any advice, just tugs him along by the collar, leading him down a footpath through the fields to the barn. 

They stop just outside the large building, and the minotaur kneels to collect a hose from the ground. He twists the squeaky knob at its end, sending an icy jet of water gushing free. He turns the freezing stream on Matthew, the mud running from the mouse’s fur to collect in the damp grass. Matthew flinches at the cold, curling in on himself as the water sluices over him. 

“That’s the only bath you’re getting,” the minotaur says, turning off the stream. He drops the hose back to the ground. 

Matthew shivers with the cold, rubbing his palms over the gooseflesh of his skinny arms. The minotaur ignores his chattering teeth, hauling the boy through a side entrance of the barn which opens into a small, dusty room. 

The first thing Matthew notices is the heat, the warmth of the barn flooding over him. His shaking subsides in the warm, dusty heat of the building. As his breathing regulates, he becomes aware of a sharp, pervasive smell, bitter and musky and distinctly masculine. Distant interest flickers at the edges of his belly. 

The minotaur gives him a light push between the shoulderblades, urging the mouse forward. “This farm is for the production of milk and cattle,” he explains. “You’ll be helping to milk the cows.” 

“Yes sir,” Matthew says distractedly. He can hear the shifting and lowing of the distant cattle, the footfalls of what sounds like dozens of people moving about in the main body of the barn. 

“Uniform,” the minotaur continues, opening a high cupboard to withdraw a heavily-starched pinafore apron. He tosses it into Matthew’s waiting paws. “Don’t get it dirty,” he adds as Matthew pulls the apron on, smoothing it over his chest. The apron comes to his mid-thigh and has two rows of ruffles across its edges. The mouse is faintly aware of the press of the stiff fabric against his nipples. 

As he ties the apron behind him, the minotaur unhooks the chain dangling from his collar, coiling it and leaving it hanging on a peg by the door to the barn. Several other loops of chain dangle beside it. 

The minotaur pushes the door to the barn open. The musky scent is overwhelming, thick and cloying in the mouse’s throat. The sounds of cattle fill the air, mooing and snuffling, hooves clopping over the wooden floors. Matthew peers around the minotaur’s powerful thigh, looking out into the barn.

Matthew stumbles into the minotaur’s side in shock. What he thought were cows are actually dozens of boys around his age: mice, rabbits, squirrels, the errant deer and fox. They stand in docile rows, standing on all fours like feral beasts. Their eyes are glazed over, their expressions slack with pleasure.

A half-dozen minotaurs hustle between them, carting glass bottles filled with what appears to be creamy milk. 

Matthew watches with rapt attention as one of the minotaurs strides up to a fox, a large glass bottle in his off hand. With bored efficiency, the minotaur reaches between the fox’s spread legs, taking the boy’s half-hard prick into his hand. It only takes him a few harsh pulls before the fox’s dick is hard. The fox gives a long moan of pleasure, the sound crescendoing into a moo. 

Oh.

Matthew continues to watch at the minotaur jacks the fox off in short, twisting motions. The cow-boy whimpers and moos with pleasure, digging his footpaws against the floor. As the fox bucks and squirms towards orgasm, the minotaur squeezes the glass bottle’s rim over the boy’s glans. The fox jerks with one last cry, the bottle spattered with his cum. 

Arousal whispers through Matthew’s body, hot little claws in his gut and groin. His nipples stiffen against the starched cloth of his pinafore. The minotaur gives him another nudge, and Matthew jumps, his pattering heart leaping into his throat. “Keep moving,” the minotaur says, leading the mouse to the end of the barn. 

They pass dozens of boy-cows being milked, the bottles of their cum rattling on carts and trolleys. Matthew stops to watch in aroused fascination as a minotaur rabbit-fucks a deer boy in his swollen red tailhole. The deer wails, his moaning moos cracking with ecstasy as he shoots jet after jet of cum into the waiting bottles. Matthew feels his hole twitch with want. 

The minotaur swings his huge, open hand down, smacking Matthew hard on the ass. The mouse yelps, tail quivering as he walks faster, his ass burning with shame and desire. His tailhole pounds with heat. 

As they reach the end of the barn, Matthew becomes aware of a different sound--not mooing, but choked groans and whimpers. He turns the corner, eyes wide with curiosity.

A steely-blue rabbit dangles from the ceiling. His paws are held high above his head by strong chains. The chains are mirrored on his large footpaws, holding his legs apart, his toes several inches above the floor. A tall minotaur holds the bunny-boy by his skinny hips, pistoning his cock up into the boy’s fucked-sloppy hole. Cum trails between the bunny’s legs, dripping to the floor as the minotaur slams against the boy’s ass, his long, tapered cock driving up through his guts. 

The bunny’s eyes are rolled-back, his tongue hanging from his mouth as he pants with pleasure. His cum-splattered chest heaves, nipples swollen and glistening from abuse. The bunny gives another cry, twisting in his chains as one of the minotaur’s thrusts drives particularly deep, his own small red cock standing hard and wanting against his belly. 

Matthew can feel his apron tenting around his stirring cock, and pulls the skirt up, keeping the silky-wet strand of pre from staining the white fabric. 

The minotaur’s huge, brawny hips slap against the bunny’s ass in quick, brutal jerks as the boy thrashes and yelps. The chains clang and ring from his squirming. The boy’s eyes are near-black, his pupils blown wide. Matthew gives a short squeal as the minotaur at his back gives his shoulder a squeeze. 

“Watch.”

Matthew stares as the minotaur fucks the bunny with a hot, snapping fury, slamming into him so hard that the chains rattle. With a final, savage thrust, the minotaur growls through the surge of his orgasm. The bunny cries out at the force of it, drawing his knees up to his chest. His cock flexes, untouched, as he comes across his own chest, toes curled. Matthew gives a little gasp, his cock stiffening between his legs. 

The minotaur in the stall pulls free, his flaccid cock hanging wetly between his legs. With a bored stretch, he unhooks the boy’s chains from the wall, lowering him to the floor. The bunny lays there limply for only a moment before looking up with big, placid eyes. Slowly, he stands up on all fours, raising his cottonball tail. His prick is already half-hard again, and the minotaur picks up a fresh bottle, taking a knee at the bunny’s side. 

As he puts his hand against the boy’s cock, he moans aloud, his voice breaking into a full-throated moo. Matthew watches as he lets himself be milked, his eyes soft with drunken pleasure. God, he wants that. 

Matthew turns hopefully to the minotaur at his side, his tailhole quivering in anticipation, but the minotaur wheels around, giving the mouse a shove towards the nearest stall. Empty bottles line its walls in metal racks.

“Get to work, milk-slut.”

Matthew gives an eager nod, moving to the stall beside the transformed bunny, ready to work. He doesn’t notice the empty stall across the hall.

The cow-boy before him is a slim red squirrel, his large, fluffy tail dusty as it switches over the floor with anticipation. His cock is already pink and swelling with interest. Matthew can feel the arousal building in his own groin, intensified by the sight of the cow-boy tethered and vulnerable and wanting.   

Matthew selects a bottle from the rack, holding it loosely in his off-hand as he approaches the squirrel. The cow-boy gives a soft moo, shifting his back legs to give the mouse better access to his twitching cock. Matthew eyes the soft shine of pre over the cow-boy’s glans with hunger. It drools from his slit to muddy the earth beneath him. 

Cautiously, Matthew unlaces his apron, draping the starched fabric over the rack of empty milk bottles. The fabric flutters slightly, the pristine white a surrender-glow. 

Stripped bare, Matthew reaches out for the squirrel, his paw stroking over the cow-boy’s shaft. It’s hot and heavy with arousal and velvet-soft. Matthew works his fingertips over it, gathering the pre in his paw to stroke over the squirrel’s cock. He twists his wrist with gentle care, rubbing his thumb over the boy’s leaking slit. The cow-boy is deliciously reactive, stamping and mooing with each movement of Matthew’s paw. He can feel the boy’s cock growing stiff against him. 

“Hurry up,” one of the minotaurs grunts. Matthew looks over his shoulder to see the minotaur standing on the other side of the stall, his long fingers tapping the stall door impatiently. 

“Yes sir.” Matthew turns back to his charge, working his paw faster over the squirrel’s cock. He sets the glass bottle on the dirty floor, wetting two fingers of his free paw in the cow-boy’s pre. The mouse slips his hand beneath the squirrel’s tail, his dripping fingers tapping against the boy’s swollen hole. He slips his fingertips inside with one long press, the squirrel’s hole tightening around the intrusion. 

The squirrel gives a wanton moo as Matthew works his fingers, scissoring the squirrel’s hole wide as he jacks the boy off. With a crook of his fingers, Matthew finds the squirrel’s prostate, pressing hard against it. The squirrel bucks, back arching, and his cock jerks in Matthew’s paw.

Matthew pulls his paw free of the squirrel’s ass, fumbling for the bottle as the boy moos and bucks, cum shooting out in a hot, sticky jet. 

“Don’t spill a drop,” the minotaur warns, his arms crossed impassively over his broad chest. 

Matthew moves quickly, pushing the open neck of the bottle against the squirrel’s glans. Cum fills the bottle nearly to the top, a few errant splatters painting the floor and the squirrel’s stomach. 

“Lick it up,” the minotaur orders. 

Matthew takes a knee, dipping his head beneath the squirrel’s belly. He leans in close, his tongue flicking out over the speckles of cum that dot the boy’s fur. It’s sweeter than he expects, covering his tongue. He presses his face harder into the squirrel’s belly, lapping greedily at the cum gathered there. Instinctively, he tries to swallow. 

The minotaur slams an open palm against the gate of the stall, making him freeze. 

“That’s not for you. Every bit goes into the bottle, slut.”

Matthew nods quickly, pursing his lips over the rim of the bottle, the cum dribbling from his open mouth. He looks up beseechingly. 

“From the floor too.”

The squirrel’s cum has splattered in the dirt, the wooden floor muddy. Matthew gives a short whine of protest at the mess before him. “Please, sir, I don’t want to,” he complains. 

The minotaur growls, pushing through the stall door. He reaches out to grab something from the shadows of the wall--it takes Matthew a heart-pounding moment to identify the bullwhip in the minotaur’s grasp. 

The braid of leather whips out with a snap, making contact with Matthew’s bare ass. It slaps a red line across the curve of one cheek. Matthew yelps sharply at the pain, squealing as the whip crosses a welt over the small of his back and cracks again against his innermost thigh. Matthew doubles over defensively, his palms slapping the floor. “I’m sorry!” he gasps. “Please, don’t hit me again!”

With a loud, leathery swish, the minotaur coils the whip back into his hand, hanging it from a thong on his belt. Matthew drags in a shuddering breath, bowing his head until he is an inch from the floor. Shakily, he extends his small pink tongue, flicking it out over the gathered cum and sawdust. He gags slightly on the gritty texture, his short, blunt fingernails digging into the floorboards. One hot tear rolls down his nose; Matthew instinctively catches is on his tongue. He brings the bottle to his lips, letting the cum roll freely into the bottle. 

The minotaur steps behind him, one enormous hand falling to the back of the mouse’s neck. Matthew tenses at the touch.

“Good work,” the minotaur says gruffly. “You’re learning.”

Matthew gives a shaky nod, chest heaving as he attempts to catch his breath. His back burns from the strikes of the whip. Despite the pain, his tailhole gives a hot little throb at the sight of the blissed-out squirrel before him, the pleasured moos in the barn, the close heat of the minotaur. He reaches back with one paw, placing it on the minotaur’s powerful thigh. He looks up with longing, his paw inching higher. 

The minotaur backhands him across the face. 

Matthew falls to one side, clutching at his cheek. He gives a short whimper, his legs pulled in towards his chest. The room spins violently; he can feel his mouth bleeding. 

“Get back to work, whore.” 

The mouse scrambles to his feet, clutching his mercifully-clean apron to his chest. “Yes sir,” he chokes out, his voice thick with pain. He spares a needy glance to the minotaur’s sheathe, an unquenchable flicker of arousal burning sharp and hot in his belly. The minotaur smacks his ass as passes; Matthew jumps with a yelp, hurrying to the next stall. 

A docile skunk waits for him, his broad, fluffy tail curled up over his back, exposing his tailhole. It’s bright, pretty pink, winking with the low, constant arousal of the cow-boys’ moos of pleasure around him. His short, plump cock stands at attention, the soft flesh almost purple with untouched need. 

Matthew bites his lip at the sight of it, his own hole quivering with unguarded want. A deep pang of longing shoots through him at the skunk’s pleasure-addled countenance. God, how he wishes their positions were reversed, that he could be nothing more than an instrument of pleasure, tied up hard and wanting and fucked deep by a dozen thick cocks. He wants his hole stretched wide, his throat abused, his own cock hard against his belly. 

With a soft whimper of want, Matthew pulls himself from his fantasy. His cock is drooling, his hole clenching so tight that it hurts. 

The skunk shifts in his chains, his tail and ears flicking with interest. Matthew swallows thickly, draping his apron over the hook on the stall. 

He takes a deep, trembling breath, crouching onto his hands and knees. His tail trails through the sawdust as he crawls under the skunk’s belly, his ass brushing the skunk’s tensed thighs. The rim of his tailhole kisses over the very tip of the skunk’s fat cock. He mewls softly at the contact, paws clutching at fistfuls of sawdust.  

Matthew leans back, lining his winking tailhole up with the tip of the skunk’s dick. Instinctively, the skunk jerks his hips, driving his prick towards Matthew’s needy hole. 

“Good boy, just like that--nnn!” The skunk’s cock presses up against Matthew’s virgin-tight hole, the fat head of his dick stretching his hole achingly wide. Matthew whimpers at the strain, his tight, dry hole resisting the intrusion. He forces himself to bear down, shivering at the hot spikes of pain radiating from his abused hole. 

With another harsh buck of his hips, the skunk breaches Matthew’s hole, his cockhead entering him with a lighting-strike of pleasured agony. He cries out as his passage fills with the skunk’s cock, the tight ring of muscle fluttering and flexing at the abuse. He digs his knees against the floor, pushing himself back against the skunk’s cock. 

The skunk gives another snap of his hips, his own footpaws digging into the sawdusts for purchase. With one long push, he forces himself in to the hilt. 

Matthew wails at the stretch, his ass burning as the skunk digs in, jerking his hips in fast, desperate thrusts. Matthew twists and writhes beneath him, trying to force the skunk’s cock to butt up against his prostate. Instead, the skunk simply continues to slap against him, ignorant of Matthew’s desire. 

The mouse whimpers, his own half-hard cock bobbing with every snap of the skunk’s hips. He wants so badly to be touched, to feel a hand or a hole or a mouth around his cock. He tenses his hole with every piercing thrust, his sensitive rim swelling at the sudden stretch. 

The skunk’s hips begin to buck faster, his thrusts short and fast, only the last inch of his cock pistoning in and own of Matthew’s aching hole. The mouse is shoved forward with every thrust, his ass in the air, nose scraping the floor. 

The skunk gives a long, loud moo, slamming his cock into Matthew’s hot, clutching hole. His hips still against Matthew’s as he orgasms, his balls slapping against Matthew’s trembling ass. His cock spasms deep inside the mouse’s hole; Matthew wails at the sensation of the hot ropes of cum shooting into his tight, abused passage. 

Exhausted, the skunk pulls out, his spent, swollen cock slipping out of Matthew’s stretched hole. Matthew clenches tight around the load inside him, his ass quivering with the effort of keeping his hole from leaking. Breathing hard through his nose, he crawls out from under the skunk, his ass held high to keep the skunk’s cum inside. 

He takes the bottle in hand, moving it between his cheeks. With a harsh cry of pain, he pushes the lip of the bottle against his own swollen rim. The smooth, dry glass resists for a moment, and Matthew winces, squatting so the bottom of the bottle rests on the dirt floor. He sits down hard on the bottle; it pushes up into him, spreading his puffy hole wide. Matthew whimpers as his rim stretches around the neck of the bottle. As he bears down on it, the rim breaches his hole, shoving an inch inside of him.

Matthew clenches around the bottle instinctively, the unyielding hardness of the glass a cold ache in his passage. It seals him perfectly, the cum beginning to slide from his ass into the bottle, not a single drop lost. 

Grunting faintly with effort, Matthew bears down again, his stomach cramping as he forces out the cum filling the base of his guts. Sweat beads on his brow, his knees shaking as he tries to keep himself from falling onto the bottle. 

With another agonizing push, the last of the cum slips into the bottle, filling it to the top. Matthew takes hold of the bottle, trying to pull it free. 

His hole refuses to unclench, the bottle’s rim caught on his own. With a high, harsh cry, Matthew pulls it free, his hole pouting and puffy. Paws shaking, he caps it, stumbling back into the barn. 

He doesn’t even have time to catch his breath. 

“Top up these bottles,” the minotaur orders, pressing two half-full bottles into Matthew’s dusty paws. “No spilling.”

Matthew nods weakly, turning to the next stall. The minotaur pinches his ass, making the boy jump, his hole twitching. The minotaur laughs at the flicker of his swollen hole, giving his ass a swat. “Get going, whelp.”

Matthew has to hold onto the wall as he enters the next stall, his legs trembling with exhaustion. The tawny coyote before him pants open-mouthed, his hips already twitching in useless little thrusts. His long, mauve cock is fully free of its sheathe, his knot half-swollen with want. Matthew’s own untouched cock gives a twitch of interest at the sight. 

The coyote looks up at him, his bright golden eyes hooded with need. Matthew actually hesitates at the intensity in the boy’s stare, the brilliance of his gaze like a livewire straight to his balls. His breath hitches with want as he drops to his knees, crawling to the coyote, the bottles scraping along the ground. 

He slides eagerly beneath the canine, his back pressed flush against the coyote’s stomach. His stretched tailhole finds the tip of the cow-boy’s cock. Matthew winks his hole, the flutter of his rim brushing up against the coyote’s tip. 

The coyote bucks in surprise, the tip of his cock pushing against Matthew’s rim. There’s a momentary press of resistance as Matthew tries to clench down on the thick cock breaching him. Undeterred, the coyote pushes through the mouse’s tightening passage, the fat length of his prick spreading the boy wide. Matthew shudders at the press, panting hard.  

Desperate for contact, the coyote forces himself in to bottom out against the growing lobes of his knot. Matthew mewls at the dick shoving into him, his hole winking and fluttering at the push of the knot against him. 

The coyote’s claws dig into the wooden floorboards as he rocks into Matthew with all his weight. His knot strains against the limits of Matthew’s hole, threatening to stretch it to tearing. Matthew gives a pained whine, teeth clenched around his lip as the coyote pushes and bucks insistently against him. Matthew feels the coyote growl deep in his chest, the reverberations buzzing against his back. 

With a final, vicious thrust, the coyote slams his knot deep into the boy’s hole. 

Matthew shrieks as the knot stretches his hole wide, the rush of hot seed filling him to breaking. His paws lose their grip on the sawdust below; his face smacks against the floor. Desperately, he tries to pull himself away from the enormous knot filling his hole. It refuses to give, pulling at his rim and sending a piercing lance of pleasured pain through him. 

The mouse whimpers, fumbling for the bottles. They’re just out of reach, the tips of his fingers barely scraping the glass. Shaking with the effort, he pulls himself forward, the knot straining in the clenched space of his hole. 

At the added pressure on his knot, the coyote bucks, sending Matthew to the floor. His arm casts out to catch himself, smacking into the pair of bottles. Their necks smash together, glass shattering as they break, the cum flowing into the sawdust. 

“Hey! You better clean that up!” Matthew jerks his head around as the minotaur calls out to him. His gaze is dark with barely-restrained anger. 

Uselessly, Matthew pulls at the knot, his rim straining and fluttering with the effort. The knot is so swollen that his hole can’t fully close against the base of it, his pucker gaping and reddened. “I...I can’t,” he whines. “I’m stuck, I can’t pull off him.”

The minotaur slams the stall door open, striding up to the locked pair. The coyote jumps with fear, his knot raising Matthew’s backside nearly a foot in the air. The boy cries out at the pressure on his hole.  

“I should have known you’d be too much of a slut to work here long,” the minotaur snarls. “Taking those boys up your ass just as fast as you could. Fucking whore, you may as well be one of them.”

“Please...” Matthew whimpers, though he doesn’t know whether he’s begging to be set free, or to be turned into one of the herd. 

“Useless slut,” the minotaur growls, kneeling down to grab Matthew by the scruff. With his other hand, he takes ahold of the coyote, wrenching the two boys apart. Matthew screams at the pain of the stretch as the enormous knot is pulled free, his tailhole gaping wide and swollen. His rim flutters uselessly in its absence. 

He dangles in the minotaur’s grip, his tail and footpaws skimming the ground as the minotaur carries him across the barn. There’s an empty stall waiting, chains dangling from the ceiling. Matthew can hear dozens of hoof-falls behind him as the minotaurs pause in their work to watch. 

Matthew’s wrists are fastened into the thick cuffs, his arms spread apart. He can feel eager, grasping hands grabbing for his ankles, hoisting him up so he is horizontal, looking up at the ceiling. The musk of the half-dozen minotaurs crowding around him is overwhelming, his cock can’t help but give a twitch, his aching, empty hole trying to squeeze tight. Chains fasten around his ankles, his legs held wide as he’s jerked into the air, rocking faintly in the chains.

“Look at his hole. The little slut actually wants this,” one of the minotaurs murmurs, his cock already standing hard against his belly. At the whispers of attention, Matthew feels his hole flex. The minotaur’s cock is longer than his forearm, thicker than the knot that’s already stretched him to his limit. 

Another minotaur jostles for a space by Matthew’s head. “His throat’s tighter,” he points out, giving his longer, thinner cock a stroke. 

“Just hurry up and fuck him already. We’ve got two to butcher this afternoon, and we’re behind on milking.”

Matthew barely notices the word “butcher,” focused instead on the minotaur that’s pressing the glans of his enormous cock against his gaping hole. 

The minotaur at his ass laughs. “Don’t gotta tell me twice.” With a grunt of effort, he slams into the mouse, splitting his hole open on the fat head of his dick. Matthew gives a yowl like a cat in heat as his hole is rent wide, his prostate squeezed against the unbearable pressure of the minotaur’s cock. 

The minotaur keeps pushing into the unstretched depths of Matthew’s passage, the boy squealing in want as he’s forced wide. His legs kick uselessly against the chains binding him, only serving to rock harder against the minotaur’s cock. 

“Look at how bad he wants my cock. I think he needs it even deeper.” The minotaurs around murmur their assent. One reaches out with his thumb and forefinger to give Matthew’s nipple a hard pinch. 

The boy gasps at the flash of pleasure, his ruined hole tightening impossibly around the minotaur’s dick. The slave-master groans at the sensation, grabbing ahold of Matthew’s hips, thrusting into him as hard as he can. His dick drives up into Matthew’s intestines, distending his belly in a bulge. 

Finally, the minotaur bottoms out, Matthew writhing in the chains at the stretch, his whole body wracked with trembling spasms. He opens his mouth to cry out at the pleasure, at the pain, but the minotaur at his head stuffs his cock into the mouse’s open mouth. 

Matthew gags around the enormous intrusion, his jaw forced open as the minotaur rams his cock down the boy’s throat. His eyes widen in shock as the minotaur’s cock reaches all the way down his gullet, the intimate press of the cock against the inside of his throat making him whimper and squirm. 

And then, all at once, the two minotaurs begin to thrust.  

Their movements are graceless, hard, wet slaps against his holes that leave him twitching and gasping for breath. Pleasure thrills through him as his prostate is slammed again and again, his hole so swollen that even the air makes it tremble and twitch. 

With a roar, the minotaurs orgasm together, the combined loads of their cum filling Matthew’s body. The heat of their seed is unbearable, his mind whiting out with pleasure as his own cock flexes and spurts uselessly against his belly. 

He comes for an age, and when he finally comes back down, a second pair of minotaurs is already pumping into him, their cocks stirring the cum inside of him into a frothing mess, spilling onto the floor from his ruined holes. Whimpering at the sensations, he tries to speak around the cock in his mouth. 

The minotaur pulls out so he can speak, the cum drooling from Matthew’s lips. “M-more,” he whispers hoarsely, his ruined hole gaped and twitching. The minotaurs drive into him, the tight, mind-numbing pain turning to raw pleasure in its intensity. Without warning, Matthew’s cock flexes again, the boy wailing around the cock in his mouth as he comes. 

When he comes to again, he’s only faintly aware of the cum painting his chest, the exhausted, over-sensitized pain in his cock. All he can feel is the minotaurs ravaging his holes, the new cocks ruining the wet, cum-drenched space of his hole. His vision is star-speckled with the intensity of his orgasms, his body electric-hot with pleasure.  

Despite the pain, despite the exhaustion, the need burns hot in his belly. He moans against the cock in his throat, trying to speak. Reluctantly, the minotaur fucking his gullet pulls out, his cock wet with the other minotaurs’ cum. 

Matthew drags in a breath to beg for more, but the only sound that escapes his broken, fucked-sloppy lips is a long, wanton moo.