Page 4 of Bred By the Minotaur (DreamTogether Breeding Program #3)

Four

Phoebe

Oh, he feels even better than before.

Since my first time at DreamTogether, I’ve learned to use the dilator for two weeks as suggested, and I made sure to be prepared for today.

So when the flared edge of the minotaur’s cock works its way into me, I’m ready for its size—but not at all for how wonderful, how thick and heavy and yet giving it is inside me.

He huffs against the back of my head. “You feel incredible,” he groans, stopping himself before he goes too deep. He learned.

Then he pulls back, gripping my ass with one hand. When he shoves himself in again, it lights up every last one of my nerve endings like a Christmas tree. “I missed you.”

I wonder if he intended to say those words as he pumps again, pushing deeper, asking for even more of me to open for him. I collapse forward against the bench, gripping the padding under my hands tightly as he rocks into me, sliding in farther before pulling out.

Saying I missed you, too doesn’t quite encompass how I feel about hearing his voice again.

For the nearly eleven months I carried his baby, I thought of him.

Fantasized about him. Eleven months I grew it inside me, wondering where he was, what he was doing, what he would think.

When I went into the delivery room with my sister holding my hand, I had wished it was him there with me, making sure the baby came out safely.

Today, he confirmed for me that I have a son out there. I was always aware of it in the back of my mind; I carried it, after all. But after the baby was taken away and returned to their father, I tried never to think about them. That wasn’t a good path to go down.

But now the minotaur is back. For me.

“I’m glad you’re here,” is finally what I say. I’m glad it’s him , that I could have him one more time.

His exploration of my body slows. Remaining sheathed in me, he leans down, trailing his hands over my bare hips, up under my shirt. A wide nose whiffs at my hair, and then those hands slide loosely back down to my ass.

“Did you know,” he says quietly, right behind my ear, “that he likes broccoli?”

He pushes his cock into me slowly, tantalizingly slow.

Does he mean... our kid?

“Our calf’s name is Milo,” he whispers, plunging into me again, pressing that blunt head deeper. I gasp and fall forward as he fills me, stopping just before he would bottom out.

We still hadn’t worked up to his full length last time. Maybe this time will be different.

“Milo,” I repeat, keeping the words tight against me so the overlords at DreamTogether can’t overhear us. “That’s—” I moan as he speeds up his thrusts, remaining at the same depth that’s sending shockwaves all across my central nervous system. “—a wonderful name.”

And it is. Adorable, perfect.

“I always hoped you’d like it,” he murmurs, settling deep inside me. There he rocks his hips, just sampling me, testing me. “I’ve thought about you a lot as he grows up. Wondering what parts of him are me, and what parts... are you.”

I cry out as he pushes into me again, and then even more of him fills me up, stretching me, demanding that I widen and lengthen. I wish I could reach out and touch him.

As if he can read my mind, a hand drifts up my back, down my shoulder, to my knuckles. There, I look down to find his massive fingers wrapped around the back of my hand as he crouches over me. They’re brown splotched with white.

“He’s so rambunctious,” he says, just for me, “getting into all sorts of trouble, like calves do.” He’s so calm, so quiet as he thrusts in and out, his hooves dragging on the tile as he pumps into me.

I’m flying higher and higher, and somehow his words are twisting up my emotions into pure pleasure.

We have a child. His name is Milo. He’s rambunctious .

I wonder what he looks like. What are his other favorite foods?

As my minotaur wraps his body around mine, he slams in, burying an obscene amount of that seemingly endless length inside me so I cry out.

Each thrust is stimulating everything, his furry balls brushing over my clit each time he pounds into me—I’m vibrating, tense all over with my desperate need to orgasm.

“Come for me,” he murmurs, and I do. I do, completely, utterly, my whole body clamping down tight around him and the bench and everything, and I don’t even realize I’m screaming until I hear the echo of my voice around the room. The minotaur grunts against my neck and jams himself in one more time.

Then he roars. It’s a powerful, rumbling sound, and immediately I feel his hot seed surge inside me, so much that it’s spilling in a torrent down my legs. His roar morphs into a bovine low as he pumps again, releasing even more.

“Hank,” he whispers in my ear as he remains lodged inside me, his heartbeat thrumming in time with mine. “My name is Hank Pittsfield.”

Hank

I need her to know who I am. I need her to... what? To want to find me? To seek me out, beyond this room, and meet our calf?

Yes. That’s what I want. Now I’m going to put the ball in her court.

Slowly I pull out of her, and my cock falls thick and wet between my legs. Her sweet pussy is gaping, spilling over with my seed. I wonder if I’ll have to visit a few times.

That would help me convince her.

I rise to my full height, dragging my fingertips down her back so she shudders. Rapunzel is spent, lying limp on the bench, and I’m gratified I could please her so well.

Someday I’ll train that pussy to take all of me.

I cup my hand under her and catch my spend as it dribbles out, then I use two fingers to spoon it back into her, her battered pussy squeezing around me again. She moans, wriggling against my hand, and already my blood is flowing south again.

A speaker crackles. “You’re almost out of time,” a voice says, as if they know I was about to fuck her yet again.

I sigh and reach for the towel to clean up both of us, being gentle with her reddened sex. She took so much of me, I’m proud of her.

Then I tuck myself back into my jeans, and slowly my cock retreats into its furred sheath. All I want is to walk around this table and look into her eyes, to finally see her face, but I don’t want to push her. Not yet.

I position myself behind her again, as if I’m about to take her a second time, and lean forward so I’m speaking behind her ear.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

She turns her head slightly. “Hank,” she repeats quietly, so the mics can’t pick us up. “I’m... I’m Phoebe.”

I nod gratefully, then pull away. “I’ll see you again soon.”

“I hope so,” she answers.

Me, too.

When I get home and step in the front door, I’m immediately tackled by a moving ball of fur and stubby horns. Milo wraps his arms tight around my legs, squeezing me for all I’m worth.

“Dad!” He disengages, peering up at me through his shaggy hair. I really need to cut it soon. “Where did you go?”

“I told you,” I say, stooping down to scratch behind his ear. “I went shopping.”

“Oh, right! Did you buy anything for me?”

I shake my head. “No, sorry. But I’ll find the right thing to get for you soon.”

He doesn’t need to know yet about the breeding bench. I’ll cross that bridge when I introduce them.

When . It’s an if , really, whether or not she’ll take my offer. I should be easy enough to find now that she has my full name, thanks to the internet.

Phoebe . What a lovely sound it makes.

My mother is in the kitchen, cleaning up the lunch she made for herself and Milo.

“Leftovers are in the oven. Just turn it on for ten minutes.” She closes the dishwasher and dries her hands. “How did it go?”

Milo has already sprinted off into the other room to find Darla, our cat. They’re connected at the hip.

“Like I said, I just went shopping. No big deal.”

“Hmm.” She sniffs the air. “Do you have a secret girlfriend, Hank?”

I blanch. “What? No. You’d be the first to know if I did.”

She surveys me with narrowed eyes. I hate how moms can do that—see right into your soul. It sure helps when I haven’t gotten a chance to take a shower yet.

“Then who did you just have sex with?”

I fist a hand in my hair and stumble back against the counter. “Ugh, gross. None of your business.”

“If it’s not a girlfriend,” she begins as she starts the wash cycle going, “then did you go back to DreamTogether?”

I should have known it was foolish even to try to hide it. My shoulders sag.

“Yes. I did.”

Mom turns to face me, her arms crossing. “Why didn’t you just tell me that?”

I fumble for the right words. “I didn’t know what you’d think. I just... I had to do it, and I didn’t want anyone to try to stop me.”

She tilts her head. “Why would I stop you?”

I hate when she forces things out of me like this, just asking innocent questions. It’s a tactic that works every time.

“Because I know Milo is a lot, and I’m not married, so I’m doing this by myself, which means you have to step in and pick up the slack all the time. But I’m going to hire a nanny for them this time around, so?—”

“I don’t have to do anything,” my mother says with infinite patience in her tone. “I like spending time with my grandson. Just like I’ll enjoy spending time with my other future grandchild.”

I huff and glare down at the floor. She’s really trying hard to make me feel guilty about lying to her now.

“Did you see her again?” Mom asks, more gently this time.

My head shoots up at the question, and a little smile crosses her face.

“Thought so,” she says. “Milo’s mother.”

“How did you know?”

“I remember what you were like back then,” she says, reaching into a cupboard to pull out a tin of shortbread cookies. I’m surprised when she opens it and there isn’t a sewing kit inside, but actual cookies. “After your first visit with her.”

Was I that obvious? I try to think back to it, but all I can remember from that time is Rapunzel.

No, Phoebe . My hormones went wild after mating with her, and I had to jerk off twice, sometimes three times a day for a few weeks just so I wasn’t hard all the time.

It’s rather awkward when you spend twelve hours per shift with three other people, trying to be normal.

“Afterward,” Mom clarifies. “I remember afterward .”

“Oh.” Now I understand. When I got the call that my surrogate was pregnant, and I wouldn’t need to visit again...

I hadn’t been in the best place, that’s true.

But I thought I put on a better face. I didn’t know Mom even sensed anything was wrong.

The understanding that I’d succeeded in impregnating Rapunzel but not seeing her, not smelling her, not burying myself in her while she carried my calf?

That had sent me sinking like a lead weight.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” I finally ask, snatching one of the cookies out of the tin and breaking it between my wide teeth. “If you knew all this.”

Mom reaches out and brushes a crumb off my chin, even though I’m not five, like Milo. “I didn’t think it would help. You wanted to suffer alone. I thought it would pass, but then it never did. Even when Milo came, you weren’t the same.”

I go to wipe my hands on my pant leg, but she holds out a napkin I didn’t realize she had. I grunt as I take it, then lean back against the counter.

Thinking back on it, maybe she’s right, and I haven’t really been myself since the last time I walked away from Phoebe. Not until today.

“I gave her my name,” I finally admit. “I put it all out there.”

Even though it’s risky with all my funds invested in DreamTogether, I had to do it. Phoebe is special—I know it.

A pleased, warm smile crosses my mother’s face. “Good. I’m sure that if she feels the same connection you do, you’ll hear from her.” She pats my shoulder. “And I’m excited for a new baby. Don’t get a nanny.”

Then she leaves the kitchen and starts tidying up Milo’s scattered toys. I don’t know how I got so lucky as to have her for my mother.

It’s almost time for my shift, so I go looking for my little bull calf.

He’s up in his room, gently petting Darla on the head while she soaks up the attention.

Ever since he was little and I told him to “be gentle” with her, he’s always petted the cat like this, just gently running the palm of his furry hand over her head.

She purrs, tilting her face so his hand is rubbing over her cheek instead.

“Darla told me today that she doesn’t actually like eating mice all that much,” Milo says when I sit down next to him on the bed.

I raise my brows. “Oh? But she sure likes to catch them and drag them in through the cat door.”

“Yeah, but she just does it because mice are bad. She thinks they taste gross.”

Hmm. It does rather sound like something a cat would say.

“I have to go to work, buddy,” I tell him, scratching between his knobby horns. They’ve been growing in slowly but surely, though they won’t start to really take off until he’s in his teens, when the hormones hit like a tornado. “I’ll be here in the morning, though.”

He frowns. “We haven’t gotten to play Monster Masher at all lately.”

“I know. I’m sorry. But Larry’s taking one of my shifts next week, so we can play Monster Masher all day if you want. All right?”

Easily swayed by promises, Milo grins up at me. “Okay, Daddy.”

Fuck. It still hits me right in the gut when he calls me that. I reach down and pull him against me, wrapping him up in my arms as tight as I can. I will protect him from everything in this entire world.

Milo squeaks, then laughs and returns my hug, not realizing there are tears in the corners of my eyes.

Phoebe . I can’t wait for you to meet him.