Minotaur transformation story, I story up boy that minotaurs flirtbook
Always forward, never left or right, Theseus remembered. The tear on his left side continued stretched against his increased bulk, ripping up to his armpit.
This is an experimental story.
||I'm 42 years old
|I like: ||Fishkeeping|
|My tattoo: ||None|
Gulping it down I d my scavenging. That, then, was the boundary of my world. As I waited, I brooded. I squinted at them, inching closer. Hunger wracked my body. The scent was unfamiliar. The guards returned, with another corpse and another skin of water. What was this? Cloaked, hooded, always shadowed by a handful of carefully picked guards, I had freedom of a kind.
He regained his senses first, scrambling for his sword as I turned to flee. There they left me. Why had it taken her so long to hunt me down? Why was she here? I was hit with a sickening realisation and chased after the light. When I calmed, I saw I was alone. His frank gaze stripped away my monstrous shell, so carefully constructed; he saw the freak as something else. The sharp tang of blood filled my nostrils.
He also carried a sword. I was terrified it would go out and plunge me into permanent night. Please leave me a torch!
I knew only one purpose: to kill. As she turned to leave I jumped up. What had I done to deserve this?
3 replies to “the labyrinth ch. 02 [tf / tg / cow woman]”
At the touch of his skin on mine I recoiled, but he slithered against me with a single-minded passion. A dark shadow crossed my mind, erasing all thought, save the one that mattered. Again they left. I frowned at Leonidas and forced myself to speak. Eventually I heard welcome sounds. The strange dreams grew more bizarre. Wary, I slipped into the shadows and waited. For some reason, I did.
I am scared of the dark. How do I mark the passage of time in that place? This one was alive, yet smelled of death. A search of the body revealed a skin of water. The panic I felt as I searched for something to sacrifice to the dying embers was greater than my need for modesty. I snatched up the torch and crept back to the dead man. Midnight hair crowned ivory face, and deep dark eyes pierced my soul.
I tried to speak but the words turned to inarticulate nonsense.
The minotaur’s tale
The ranking guardsman, Leonidas, shook his head, gesturing to a pile of rags before him. She smiled—a scornful twist that shut my mouth and burned me with shame. My mind was frozen, unable to comprehend the situation. I sat beside the rotting man and dreamed strange dreams. As I rounded the last corner I was blinded by the light after hours of unrelenting darkness.
Jacob becomes a minotaur boy
Close up I saw his regal face, with its strong nose and proud eyes. The sword clattered to the ground.
There was an acrid edge to the aroma. I grew, and became adept at devouring the dead. The men departed with haste, the heavy door clanging behind them. I was blindfolded and taken into a dark world, the labyrinth that was to become my home. Shying away I emerged from the shadows into the muted light. I pondered her strange visit until the guards arrived with a man.
My focus narrowed; time seemed to slow. I embraced him, that puny man, and squeezed. Time passed, but the darkness was timeless. I ran frantically through the darkness, stumbling into walls and tripping over uneven stones, until I collapsed in a sobbing huddle. Afraid of the sharp steel, I fell back; he sensed his advantage and pressed forward.
Naked, the man clutched at me. I sat near my fire and waited, sure she would search me out. Soon she stood before me, small and lithe, dark and fair. I glanced down at my body, all muscles and sweat and shame, and peered back at him, suspicious.
This was to be the new routine. The ringing of steel on stone created a barrier between us—we froze. Whether the guards had remained to witness I do not know. The blood, no longer warm, filled my mouth; I gagged and spat. I was shocked, as no one save my guards ever entered my domain armed.
I watched, uneasy, as he explored my little home, tripping over my bone pile. I sat beside my little fire, entranced by the flames. My nails grew longer, my body grew dirtier. I faced him, and we studied each other.
You choose to become a minotaur
The rabid man—yes, rabid—giggled and slunk forward, shedding his clothes as he moved. The torch flickered, fitful. Weak and shattered, I ate. What was I to do? Aware of his scrutiny I hunched a little, trying to cover my nakedness with my hands. Bile rose in my throat and I scrabbled at his sweaty arms twined around my waist, his body writhing.
One day, or night—I never could tell in that place—I smelled a familiar scent: my sister. Their familiar footfalls and the glow of torches drew me close; a moth to a flame. What little I swallowed stoked the embers of my hunger and I forgot my squeamishness. He broke in my arms.
Write a new chapter
There was no food. I soon learned the drill. At first I wore the clothes, but after almost running out of fuel for my fire I decided it was better to be naked than risk losing my only source of light. Evil despair engulfed me.
He carried himself like a king. The approach of a solitary stranger startled me out of my reverie. Soon enough a man emerged from the labyrinth. I advanced and he spun toward me, sword outstretched. Insane, I pawed at the fresh corpse. They stood silent and still, waiting.
The prisoner had a wild grin on his face, and Leonidas observed with an expression I could only interpret as pity. Would she recoil from me in horror? He prodded the man with his spear and the prisoner stumbled forward. One night that changed.