The Lust of the Cerberus Woman Pt. 01

This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.

Please note that all characters are clearly over eighteen and written as such in all stories.

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Cyril hitched his pack a little higher, though his light clothing was more to ease him through the heat of the day as coolly as possible than to protect him. Lines of dirt tracked the straps of the pack over his shoulders, sweat trickling down his back, though nothing was more uncomfortable for the Greek man than what was hidden away in his pants.

It could not be helped, not as he grunted, following the path before him through the olive grove, seeking out the temple that he had been tasked to "cleanse". He had long ago learned to move as anyone else did, though that was more than a little difficult considering how much he was hiding in his pants, the three cocks that he had been cursed with that had rendered him terrifying (from his experience) to all women.

It was not his fault, not truly, for it was his father who had slept with Zeus' daughter -- well, he had married her too. There seemed to be no better way to piss off a god, however, than doing just that and, well, Zeus' revenge had been to curse him, the son who had very much not had anything to do with any of it. But Cyril had still had to live his life and get on with it, even as rumours and gossip about him spread through his childhood, his adolescence and beyond. With more between his legs, however, he had to make the necessary adjustments, his clothes naturally chosen to be a little looser around the front of his crotch and between his legs too. It meant that a lot had to be tailored perfectly for him, but he didn't mind that. It was why he had learned to repair his own clothes and, of course, took good care of all he owned.

The temple rose in white columns, a typical temple that could be found in Greece, yet an air of dark energy twisted and curled within the pillars, the dangerous walls screaming for something that not even Cyril could name to be unleashed. Surrounded by the grove, it was nestled away in the foothills of the mountains and there would not be a soul for leagues upon leagues to hear his screams if nothing came right in the end. And yet he was drawn to it, step by step, as if something was calling him. So eerie was the sensation that he actually looked around and checked the nearby river too, flowing serenely between the trees, to reassure himself that there was no siren there, singing sweetly and luring him to his end.

A roar bellowed from between the pillars, though they were cracked and broken as if a beast had been raging, smashing everything around it in a blind fury. He readied his short sword, a shield buckled onto his opposite arm, though it was small and intended only for blocking blows, for letting them glance off him while he was moving, always fighting. It would not protect him if he stood his ground to weather the storm.

Dark energy snarled between the pillars, crude and insidious, yet he had to enter, his head held high, more than willing to meet his fate, however it came about. Yet what he did not expect was a raging fury of a three-headed dog-woman to lunge at him, slamming him back and onto the steps in a single blow.

"Begone, human! You have no place here!"

She was wild, furious, speaking with a woman's tones, though the blistering of her snarls dampened the femininity at least somewhat. Cyril gasped and fought back, throwing himself into the fray against a larger shape, though even he was surprised to find that she was humanoid. When he'd seen the three heads, the dog-like shape, he'd thought that it would be another of Cerberus' offspring, or those breeding demon dogs from the Underworld itself, guarding the temple, what he had been tasked to evict. Yet the Cerberus-woman was so much more than that, standing easily at seven feet tall, a raging ball of fur in a long dress, heaving and panting, claws and teeth flying and battering him. The fight was all she knew, after all, though he would later come to know that her name was Jacinta.

"Humans have no place here! This is my temple -- all mine!"

Her teeth gnashed his sword, clinging, biting, striving to tear it from his grip, but Cyril's training kicked in, locking his stance to spin away, slipping the blade between her teeth. To his chagrin, he did accidentally nick the corner of her lips and perhaps her tongue too, leaving one of the three heads spitting blood, trickling down their muzzle.

"Filthy human!"

He had to move, had to go! He had to do something, anything at all, all to avoid her frenzied teeth, her gnashing jaws, how they sought to clamp down, to rip, to tear, to end his life. Oh, he knew what she thought and yet Cyril still could not tear his eyes from her, no more than he could back down the open-aired temple steps and retreat, coming back when he'd regrouped. Oh, no... No, now that he had found her, all Cyril could do was block and go on the defensive, not finding it in his heart to fight back and harm her.

Why would he? She was no more at fault for who she was than he was. And that was something that only two like souls would ever understand.

"No... I want..."

The jaws of the right-sided head snapped closed an inch from his throat, so close that he could feel the delectable heat of her body, his heart pounding, blood pumping. Cyril didn't have to question why it made him so hot, as if another being was crawling through his skin, showing him the mind and the body that he should have been in all along.

The Cerberus-woman was exactly who and what had been missing from his life.

As she lunged for him, dress whipping around her, he held up his hand, sword splayed out, exposing himself, his chest, his vulnerability, the nuances of the flesh that would not stand up to her teeth and claws.

"Stop! I beg of you! There is no need for this!"

She could have ignored it, barrelled right through him and, for some reason that Cyril would never be able to fathom (and would forever be thankful for) she did not. She skidded to a halt with one head snapping more than the others (maybe it had a mind of its own?) her claws unsheathed, blood speckling the front of her dress.

"Who are you?" She demanded, a tail lashing the air under her dress, shifting the sweeping fabric back and forth. "Why have you come here? Answer me!"

But he could not, not while he took her in fully, in all her ugly fury, for the very first time.

Wearing a long, flowing dress that came down to her ankles, what the Cerberus-woman wore could have been demure, if not for the scandalous slit up each side. It afforded her ease of movement and agility in the dress, however, her three heads snarling, lips peeling back dangerously from her teeth, saliva glistening, dripping. The dress cut down daringly low over her chest too, though there were another two pairs of breasts below the first that had most of the cleavage exposed, her fur thick and ragged, designed for purpose and not beauty.

For there was nothing beautiful at all about the Cerberus-woman, not in human eyes, even though Cyril took a sharp breath, eyes ravaging her form. She was tall, taller than him, her eyes narrowed and wild, untamed in the best of ways. Her hair framed her head in a tangled halo, as if she had never used a comb or a brush in her lifetime, though it was a darker shade of brown than her fur. Each head, of course, had a full head of hair, spittle flying from her jaws as she roared.

The Cerberus-woman stomped and snarled, shaking her heads furiously.

"Who dares disturb me? You do not give a name! Why will you not leave, runt?"

The Cerberus-woman thundered, but he was not dissuaded, spellbound, holding up his hands. Oh, but her might! He'd never seen anything like it, like her, not ever before, his heart pounding furiously, aching for the beast, the woman who was so much greater than every woman who had ever turned him down.

She's like me too.

Well, at least in some ways, he reminded himself. Regardless of what he could not see or the reason behind her condition, she had her own version of tripling going on, her breasts obviously so, though the dress was not fitted for multiple breasts as it was. That was a shame. Cyril could only imagine how much more glorious she would be if she was naked, or even in clothes that fitted her divine assets in the way that the heavens had intended.

"I..." He started, fumbling with his words as she seethed, coming for him with ruthless intent. "I...am Cyril. Please, I mean you no harm."

He might have meant her harm if he was only there to chase her from the temple, to perform his ritual of cleansing, as he had been tasked. Yet all the money that he had been set to earn from the mission would have to fall by the wayside for there was no feasible way that he could slay her or chase her off now that he had seen her.

In the back of his mind, a traitorous little voice whispered that she was his perfect match, that maybe it had been meant to be so.

She didn't think so, haughty and aloof, expecting something that he could not blame her for. He had come in, obviously, with a sword and a shield and there was no going back from that first impression, even though she towered and bellowed at him.

"Forgive me..." He said, taking a chance, sweeping his body down into a deep bow. "For I was spellbound by you... It's not often one that I come into the presence of one as glorious as you."

She reeled, taken aback by his words. For a moment, the Cerberus-woman didn't seem as if she knew what to say, though he spread his hands, uncurling his fingers as much from the sword as he could without dropping it. Some habits died hard.

"Is this a ploy?" She demanded, a snap behind her words. "You would be a fool to test me, human... You're all the same. But no one has tried to fight with sweet words before."

His heart lifted, allowing him to hope, just a little bit.

"Yes... But they should have," he confessed, flirtation toying with his tongue as the tension around them, the twisting energy of their fight, slowly dissipated, just a little bit. "You are wonderful... I was wondering..." Did he dare? "I was wondering if you would like to share a meal together?"

It was so far out of what was expected that she couldn't do anything but stand there, staring at him, one head with their eyes narrower than the others, shifting her weight. When the head snarled, her hand raised automatically to quiet it, smoothing over the fluffed up, ragged fur there again and again until the growls quietened. Even then, her body fought her and Cyril's heart tugged for her, wanting to be the one to soothe and caress her, to show her that there was nothing to fear. There would never again be anything to fear.

He would see to it himself.

"I..." Her eyes focused on the sword as he dropped it at his feet, moving slowly, unbuckling the shield. "You have food with you?"

Hunger won out over anger, though Cyril was acutely aware of the fact that she could have beaten him up and taken what food was in his pack anyway. But travelling as much as he did gave him the chance to sample so many new foods along the way that he at least had a variety with him, even if he had been advised to eat the wrapped cheeses quickly.

He laid out the spread on a wooden board that looked like it had been used for meals, once upon a time, by the original keeper of the temple, though that would have been long before the Cerberus-woman had taken up residence there. It was clean enough for them as he laid out a spread of cured meats, cheeses, olives and fresh fruits too. They'd been growing oranges locally and some of the lesser quality grapes from a vineyard had been offered to him too, though those that gave him food so freely did not know of his condition as he made his way across the land.

She took it hesitantly, though she lunged and chewed and slurped as soon as she realised how good the food was. Enraptured by her, Cyril hardly ate at all, playing with an olive pit between his fingers, resisting the temptation to feed her.

Why was she so beautiful? And so shut away?

"Who are you?" He breathed, afraid to break the tentative peace between them. "I wish I had seen you many years ago..."

She shot him a look, but clearly decided that he was afforded a name at the bare minimum. Cyril wasn't so sure what more than that he would get out of her, however.

"Jacinta." She snorted, tossing cured ham in the air, where it disappeared down one of her three throats. "Beauty. Apparently. A cruel joke from the mother that never wanted me."

He reached for her, brushing his fingers across the back of her furred hand, one of her claws chipped and broken, though he could not be put off either when she retreated from him with a warning growl.

"But you are beautiful," Cyril said, hoping that his sincerity rang through his tone. "I've never seen... I mean, there are so many women in the world. But not a single one of them could compare to you, not even Aphrodite. Not that I've seen Aphrodite, but, this...you..."

He struggled with his words, a telling blush rising to his cheeks, colouring them a fetching shade of pink as the heat of it crept down his neck too. Her ears, folded over so that the tips did not point up, twitched, a little more curiosity in Jacinta's eyes than had been there before.

"There is nothing to me," she said blandly. "That's why you came to kill me, isn't it?"

He shrugged.

"I wouldn't lie to you... But I did not know who was here either and I hope you will forgive me for that. I have lain down my sword and shield for you and...well...I'd lay them down forever if it made you happy."

Jacinta snorted.

"You lie."

"But I do not!" He spread his hands, torso tipping towards her from where he sat cross-legged, with her, at the side of the temple, on a step. "If they told of your beauty, who you were... I would never have come here like this. I would have come with the finest flowers in Greece for you and sung songs of your beauty, though I'm afraid that is all I could sing songs for yet."

He swallowed hard, eyes dropping, heat spreading more deeply across his cheeks. He didn't have fur, not like her, to hide it.

"I...want to know more about you though. Will you sit and talk with me? I promise you no harm and I want to prove that to you."

For whatever reason, Jacinta agreed. Maybe she had been lonely there for too long, but she sat and talked and even found some wine for them to share, though they did not have cups so they had to drink it from the bottle. They laughed and pretended they were philosophers, the Cerberus-woman warming up a little more to him, though he was in a vulnerable position there, not her, when his weapons had been kicked outside the temple.

He had never been good at flirted, though the hour grew late, allowing them to watch the sunset together, night falling, a twinkling of stars bearing witness to their laughter. A lantern -- several, in fact -- was lit to illuminate the space that they occupied, sitting on woven blankets, a stool brought out but not needed by them. Jacinta did not have many belongings there.

"I did not mean to cause such unrest here," she said at last, revealing what about herself he had wondered from the start. "It's... I was looking for someone. Maybe it was canine...monster...instinct. Maybe it was something else. But I'm driven. I want someone too, someone in my life. I don't know how to go about it. I don't think it's meant for me."

She paused, glancing at him, as if she was imploring him to see something, to come to something that she could not put into words. And he thought he knew, though he locked his gaze with hers, not moving, hardly breathing.

"Many come by here," she breathed, muzzles wrinkling. "But...none stayed. None stayed longer than to scream. So, I started chasing them away."

"You want someone to be with...for life?"

He took his chance, bridged the gap, ignoring the searing heat clawing at his throat, taking her hand in his own.

And it was that moment that she had needed all along as the Cerberus-woman closed the gap between them (though she did have to think about, for a moment, which of her three heads to use) to kiss him. It was awkward and it was furry and her lips didn't quite match up with Cyril's, though her heart sung as if the heavens had opened for a chorus of nymphs to serenade them with Elysium harps.

He moaned into the kiss, hands coming up to touch her, caressing her heads, her hair, down across her necks and her shoulders. The man quivered, heart pounding, wanting to touch more, though there was little else his hands could reach when she had three pairs of breasts, taking up a lot of her torso while she tipped in towards him. Cyril could not help the back of his hand brushing one accidentally, but he distracted himself by leaning even more passionately into the kiss than before, grunting and groaning.

It felt right, more so than anything in his life had so far. There were no words to be shared, not as they hastily pressed closer and closer, hands fumbling for one another. He didn't want to press on too far and he most certainly did not want to rush things, but his heart pounded so defiantly that he thrust all of that aside.

He...hadn't been with anyone in his life, not like that, not yet. Every woman had run screaming the moment they'd seen his three cocks, branding him a freak -- though there was a part of Cyril that did not blame them either. He thought he was a freak a lot of the time too, someone that didn't deserve at all to have a place of any kind in civilised society. What right did he even have to have his hands all over Jacinta?

He tried to think like that, he really did, yet her body was so warm as she pulled him down to the blankets with her. Cyril groaned, swapping between her heads, her long tongues slobbering over him, lapping wetly, the kind of kisses that no human would ever be able to match up to. He was already head over heels for her and there was no going back from that, not as he grunted into her kisses, running his hands down the sides of her dress, seeking where it unlaced.

"Yes... Oh, Jacinta..." He moaned, tugging at the laces hard enough to get the dress to slip down over her first two pairs of breasts. "I want... But there's something... Oh... Oh, Elysium..."

He moaned, struggling with words, as much as he wanted to spend them in more than a moan.

"Mmmmnnnn... Jacinta..."

She tore through his clothes with raw hunger, as if she could not bear to see him before her clothed for a single moment more. The lantern flames leapt and danced, casting erotic shadows on the walls, though it looked, for a moment, as if she was a beast towering over him, about to devour him, all three heads with their fangs bared. It was hotter than even what was going down as she stripped him down to his light undergarments, what he only wore so that he could prolong the life of his outer clothes.

It was moving too quickly, far, far, too quickly, yet Cyril's head spun with the kind of passion that could not so easily be taken back. He had to have her, had to be with her, though she revealed his crotch and what had been the subject of so much shame for him for so many years.

Time slowed. Her eyes widened. The Cerberus-woman's tongues lolled out, panting heavily.

"Oh... Oh, gods..."

But she did not reel from him as he had expected but dove onto his shaft, half her tits exposed, moaning, taking his cocks sloppily into three muzzles at once. And it was in that moment that it truly was shown how perfect they were for one another, pleasure exploding through him like it never had before.